TURK GÖBEGI

I find food to be a very intimidating in Turkey. Don’t get me wrong, the cuisine here includes some of the best I’ve had anywhere in the world. Food is taken very seriously and plays an important role in Turkish culture and it is something of which they are exceptionally proud. In addition, the frequency and quantity consumed is greater than I’ve encountered anywhere else in the world. All of this adds to the intimidation factor. 

Last weekend Akin, his uncle Hakan and I visited a couple of different relatives. First on the list was another uncle who lives on a quiet plot of land on the Anatolian side of Istanbul away from the hustle of the city center. I was very excited to spend some time around so much green and animals. I was told early in the morning that we would be going there for BBQ.

On our way to see Amca (Uncle) we stopped at a grocery store to pick up a few items for the evening. I was confused when Hakan also went into a restaurant across the street and beckoned us to follow. I figured he was a bit peckish and couldn’t wait until we got there to eat as it was quite some distance and it was getting on dinner time. When Akin asked if wanted something to eat, I grinned and reminded him that we were going to eat BBQ and that I was fine to wait until then. 

Akin understood the grin that went along with my answer. When I was here for three weeks last summer, I was constantly confiding privately in him, that I was having a difficult time dealing with the eating culture. Everywhere you go, people want to feed you and literally will not take no for an answer. This became wearing both psychologically and physiologically. I certainly was not going to start myself from behind by indulging in this superfluous food stop. 

As it turned out, Hakan was actually picking up the food that we would be eating at the farm. Fortunately he didn’t ask either I or Akin whether or not I’d like to eat and went ahead and picked up more than enough for all of us. As usual, it was çok güzel (lovely).

Our next stop was at a cousin of Akin’s home. We did not arrive here until somewhere around 9:00 and were only planning to have a few drinks with them, but I was not at all surprised to when I saw one of our hosts grilling on the porch. Shortly after our arrival Hakan yelled, “Wynter, Senin tabak!”. 

While I was busy trying to figure out what a tabak was, one of the hosts, Didem, came in and asked me, if I had eaten. I replied that I had eaten and wasn’t very hungry, but that it smelled very nice and I would love to try a small bit. Hakan had followed her into the room and upon hearing my reply he retorted, “You did not eat. When did you eat?” He was waving a plate in his hands, which I then learned was a tabak. 

I was very confused by Hakan’s accusation. At first I thought he was kidding and sort of coyly played along, but I soon figured out that it wasn’t a joke. My next guess was that it was somehow rude of us to have eaten before we came and that I should not have revealed this information to and simply ought to have shut up and eat eaten so as not to offend the hosts. Fortunately this was not the case and the truth was far more entertaining. 

It was Hakan who came to my rescue and inadvertently clarified both the current situation an important element of Turkish culture. He continued his address, “I was with you today. You ate six hours ago. You never ate supper. What did you eat?” Well, it had actually only been about two hours since we had eaten, somewhere around 6:00 pm, and he knew full well what I had eaten as he was the one who ordered it. This had seemed like perfectly logical supper time to me and what we had consumed was certainly enough for me to consider it a legitimate meal though it was not extravagant. 

At this point, I timidly replied that I had eaten three times that day including the kebab at the farm and that I felt that this was a sufficient amount. Didem then began to laugh and said, “That’s not enough. Its Saturday.” "Of course." I thought to myself, "How could I have forgotten this crucial piece of information. Its Saturday. What? What the hell does that matter.” Now I was really confused. “You have to eat at least four times on a Saturday,” Didem continued. 

At this point, a very important cultural lesson had been reaffirmed and I was left without a leg on which to stand. I appreciatively took my plate and headed into the dining room for one of the most delicious meals I have had since arriving here.