Food Porn
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I just finished reading The Janissary Tree, a mystery by Jason Goodwin set in 1836 Istanbul. I loved this description of the main character, Yashim, preparing his evening meal in the coal fireplace in his home. It starts with Yashim at the market, buying fish and getting a sauce from the Greek vendor George:
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Over his shoulder [George] said, "Go, buy some fish. I will give you a sauce. You kebabs the fish, some Spanish onions, peppers. You puts on the sauce. You puts him in the fire. You eats. Go."
Yashim went. When he had the fish, he came back and George was crushing walnuts open with his hands and peeling cloves of garlic, which he put together in a twist of paper.
"Now you, efendi, go home and cook. The pepper. The onion. No, I don't take money from crazy mans. Tomorrow you comes, you pays me double."
When Yashim got home, he laid the fish and vegetables on the block and sliced them with a thin knife. The onions were sharp and stung his eyes. He riddled up the stove and chucked in another handful of charcoal. When he had threaded the pieces onto skewers, he smashed the walnuts and the garlic with the flat of a big knife and chopped, drawing together the ever-dwindling heap with the flat of his hand until the hash was so sticky he had to use the blade to scrape it off his skin. He anointed the fish with the sauce and let it lie while he washed his hands in the bowl his housekeeper set out for him every morning and afternoon.
He laid the skewers over the dull embers and drizzled them with a string of oil. When the oil hissed on the fire, he waved the smoke with a cloth and turned the skewers, mechanically.
Shortly before the fish was ready to flake from the stick, he sliced a loaf of white bread and laid it on a plate with a small bowl of oil, some sesame seeds, and a few olives. He stuffed a tiny enamel teapot with springs of mint, a piece of white sugar, and a pinch of Chinese tea leaves rolled like gunshot, poured in water from the ewer, and crunched it down into the charcoal until its base bit into the glow.
Finally he ate, sitting in the alcove, wiping the peppers and the fish from the skewer with a round of bread.
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I just finished reading The Janissary Tree, a mystery by Jason Goodwin set in 1836 Istanbul. I loved this description of the main character, Yashim, preparing his evening meal in the coal fireplace in his home. It starts with Yashim at the market, buying fish and getting a sauce from the Greek vendor George:
*
Over his shoulder [George] said, "Go, buy some fish. I will give you a sauce. You kebabs the fish, some Spanish onions, peppers. You puts on the sauce. You puts him in the fire. You eats. Go."
Yashim went. When he had the fish, he came back and George was crushing walnuts open with his hands and peeling cloves of garlic, which he put together in a twist of paper.
"Now you, efendi, go home and cook. The pepper. The onion. No, I don't take money from crazy mans. Tomorrow you comes, you pays me double."
When Yashim got home, he laid the fish and vegetables on the block and sliced them with a thin knife. The onions were sharp and stung his eyes. He riddled up the stove and chucked in another handful of charcoal. When he had threaded the pieces onto skewers, he smashed the walnuts and the garlic with the flat of a big knife and chopped, drawing together the ever-dwindling heap with the flat of his hand until the hash was so sticky he had to use the blade to scrape it off his skin. He anointed the fish with the sauce and let it lie while he washed his hands in the bowl his housekeeper set out for him every morning and afternoon.
He laid the skewers over the dull embers and drizzled them with a string of oil. When the oil hissed on the fire, he waved the smoke with a cloth and turned the skewers, mechanically.
Shortly before the fish was ready to flake from the stick, he sliced a loaf of white bread and laid it on a plate with a small bowl of oil, some sesame seeds, and a few olives. He stuffed a tiny enamel teapot with springs of mint, a piece of white sugar, and a pinch of Chinese tea leaves rolled like gunshot, poured in water from the ewer, and crunched it down into the charcoal until its base bit into the glow.
Finally he ate, sitting in the alcove, wiping the peppers and the fish from the skewer with a round of bread.
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posted by Anonymous at
12:03 PM
2 Comments:
Now I want to eat souvlaki. . . .
I'm hungry, too! Susan e.
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