Sunday
Has this ever happened to you?
You had meal, or some food item, and it was so delicious, so unique and perfect, that you thought about it for weeks afterwards. Months, maybe. You plotted about how to have it again. You dreamed about it. You planned journeys around it. And then, one day, you returned to it, with lust in your eyes and hope in your heart.
During my December trip to Istanbul, we had breakfast at a restaurant called Namli Gurume.
Content-wise, it was more or less standard, although you can’t really use the word “standard” to describe a Turkish breakfast. Consisting of at least 8 plates of food, often upwards of 15, breakfast is an experience in this country.
But at Namli, everything was that much better. Fresher, tastier, more thoughtfully created. It was like they sprinkled it with pixie dust. There in December, surrounded by friends and travellers, in the heart of Istanbul after almost 2 years of pandemic, I blinked back tears of gratitude. And that was before dessert.
I keep trying to find the correct name of this dish, because I don’t think what I have is right. And if I describe it, it won’t sound right either. It’s a whole walnut, shell and everything, soaked in syrup. On top of it, a dollop of super fatty cream. Sounds odd, right? But that dessert is, in all seriousness, a reason to move to Istanbul.
Emily and I met at Namli this morning. I walked there, soaking up the quiet of a Sunday morning in Istanbul.
There was a lineup outside the restaurant, Montreal-style, except without it being 400 degrees below.
Emily arrived, straight from Endor.
At Namli you order breakfast at a counter, which means that no matter how much Turkish I learn, I will never be able to eat there alone. There are so many varieties of cheeses, meats, cheese-and-meats on sticks, fried breads, braided breads, random breakfast desserts… And the incredible, legendary “walnut jam”, which it really can’t be called but apparently is. (That’s it on the bottom left.)
We were so busy talking that we almost didn’t notice when we started on dessert.
Emily was mid-sentence and then just stopped dead.
We drank endless cups of tea and talked about endless things. Then I dragged myself back up the steep hills and staircases, home.
Later, I turned on the news.
I know you’re thinking this right now, too. How do we experience joy when there’s so much fear and suffering around us? How can we just go out for breakfast? I try to rationalize it, or be extra grateful, or tell myself I can’t feel happy until everyone is happy, which is never going to happen so what’s the point? Then the whole circle starts again.
I don’t have an answer. One of my teachers used to say that when you experience something beautiful—a taste or a sight or a feeling—to share the happiness, like you’re sending it out in your mind waves. To those you love, to those you know are suffering, even to those you dislike.
So I’m trying to do that today. None of us knows WTF is going on. But if you can find a tiny slice of joy or love today, I hope you savour it.
The food looks fabulous.