Wednesday, January 25, 2012

à la coque or a-la-Mo-euf?





This holiday season my “fave-fab” gift came from my friend Peter…
He is a friend first, but also my neighbor in Fairfield, as well as my final touch master of our most beautiful events produced…(with his genius floral creations…)
We know each other for 16 years or so! It took him few years to size up this (then...) new kid on the block… yet I was able to earn his trust, and creative respect… Thus the rest is history…
Our process before, during and after the events is one that is be-fitting to be a reality show in Bravo!
A face to face in his Fairfield farm house or my cottage, few manic phone calls on the run to the market, but mostly a banter that is cheek and tongue the rest of the time…(one that most can not follow a single word of… including his partner dear Chris.)
Our shared laughter is our tool to survive the pressure cooker that we daily sit in, called the “Special Events Industry”.
So enough about us!..
The Gift was a dozen organic home-grown eggs…from his chicken coop in the back of the house…
(His gardens, and multiple mini barns… are a magical oasis, sanctuary & a kind of a charming ZOO!)
And today, as I opened the egg carton box; I had 2 eggs… they were exactly like the ones I remember from my childhood…
Small, soft, tender, orange in the center…with a fragrance that was full on nostalgia.
I remember egg shopping with mom in the back streets of Sisli- Markets (Istanbul)… There was a basement store we used to step down to…where there used to be hundreds of dozens of eggs…a nasty smell of chicken poop…flying feathers …and a deafening sound:
“buck,buck,,,,, buck,,, buckAHHHH”
Little that I knew that was a gourmet experience to become uber-chic 42 years later…
Talk about farm to table…
As a young child I love “à la coque yumurta”, soft boiled eggs…seasoned with salt, and had best time dipping my crusty bread with each morsel.
Also I loved to call on my mother or my baby-sitter (who was awake!!!), to run and see that I had not touched my breakfast at all.
You see what I loved to do was to turn the empty hallowed up egg shell upside down in the coquotier (special egg dish)…clean out my plate… and pretend I was not hungry!
My poor older baby-sitter “Habibe Teyze” always humored me by over reacting in the most dramatic ways possible…morning after morning!
Once I would confess…we would laugh & laugh & laugh!
She will say “You tricked me again my baby”…
Here I am 40 plus years later…
Blending it all: the streets of Istanbul, a kitchen of a posh 70’s apartment, my humble peasant “Habibe Teyze”, Peter with his Coque & Oeufs, and my seldom playful childhood…

Hope you try this at home:


{Soft Boiled Eggs}

4 large eggs
1 teaspoon salt
6 cups water
Directions:
1
Bring the water to a rapid boil.
2
add salt and keep it at a rapid boil.
3
Prick the bottom (wider end) of the egg with an egg pricker
4
Immerse in the boiling water and boil for exactly 5 minutes.
5
Dash in cold water, crack & enjoy.

PS: Good news for those of you that are scared of your stove tops…
Le Pain Quotidien serves Organic Soft Boiled Eggs with crusty breads for breakfast…exactly how I love it…

Monday, January 23, 2012

Old & New...


Well I am 47 now…
It seems like certain things are a bit more in focus…
Beautiful days, dark hours, magical moments or ugly moments…
Are all more meaningful once one shares them…
I was born with the "creative" genes…
I have to be honest, becoming an expert in one area never occurred to me…
It seems like tough I know little bit of this and that…
Trust me that is a problem too…
“What do I want to become when I grow up?” is a question etched in my brain…
What is really the description of success?
Yet it seems like I have done somethings since graduation…
Tons of applause, many compliments… and few failures along the way…
My cup is full, sometimes overflew, at times it seemed empty…
In my quietest moments…
When I did not have to prove anything to anybody…
I now have to ask,  “What do I enjoy the most?”
My fatherhood, my ever studentship, my desire to solve the human condition, my cooking, and the ritual of sharing what I cook with others?…
But I love mostly the conversations that happen around the dinner table…
It is time now for me to take these pleasures and collect my thoughts…
Not call them a project or job, and start my journey…
Where will I sleep, where will I anchor my boat?… 
I do not know at the moment…
Yet I feel it is time to do this for me & for me only…
I do not fit any formulas… not for the longest time now…
I want to document my journey
Old friends and new, old and new dishes, my motherland and my habitat, old and new conversations…
Will I be able to catch up with my-self?
This is not a departure yet more of an arrival.
I am excited….

MO-XO

PS: It's soup weather!