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Turkish Delight On A Moonlit Night |
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Page 3 of 4
I noticed at once that many of the vendors seemed to be catering to loyal customers who knew exactly what they wanted. The sheer quantity and variety on offer were enough to make heads spin faster than a Whirling Dervish, and all the usual staples were there: coriander, cinnamon, allspice, ginger, crimson paprikas, golden turmeric and saffron, cumin, ground coconut, black, red, green and grey peppercorns, curry blends, licorice, henna, dangling strings of dried eggplants, peppers, fruits, dates, chilies and okra; pastries galore, boxes, bags, tins and bins of rose waters, rose buds, oils, natural sponges, herbs, seeds, beans and nuts of every persuasion and hue, including Turkey’s famously flavorful pistachios.
There were spices destined for recipes handed down from grandmother to granddaughter, generation to generation. There were spices for dishes yet to be conceived, and spices whose odors triggered memories buried for years, every one of them exquisitely arranged. And no matter that they were pre-ground and exposed to the open air: these shoppers knew that a high turnover of these multi-colored cones guaranteed flavors as intense as if they had personally pounded them in their own mortars that morning. In just one hour, one of the stalls to which I returned was barely recognizable, its mounds reduced to volcano-like caverns whose calderas stood precariously upright, awaiting that one next scoop that would make them topple.
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