The trend in Adana is sushi rolls. Sushi restaurants are everywhere. Metro, the Costco-like store that supplies restaurants, carries everything you need to run a sushi roll, maki, restaurant. There is a popular chain of eateries called Maki. They serve everything but sushi rolls are a big part of the menu.
An assortment of sushi rolls including with fries on them…
I can’t figure it out, but I also saw it in Italy.
Korean rice rolls called kimbap.
The other thing, and sort of connected, is the rise of Korean places. Maybe it’s the rise of the “cute” culture? Kawaii is the Japanese word for “cutsie culture” and this infantilization is popular in many places. So far I have only seen one person dressed sort of in this way. But, Flying Tiger arrived in Adana. Flying Tiger is a Danish “dollar store” chain that sells many cute, and sometimes practical, things. (Flying Tiger is derived from the sound of a “tenner” in Danish sounding like the word for tiger).
Recently a Korean store opened up. Also filled with cutsie things.
Sushi with mayo…
Maybe the sushi roll is not so strange. Adana has rolls made with meat and flat bread.
Turkish flatbread rolls.
I predict that the next trend is tacos. You read it here!
When a cup of tea costs $20, then you might as well get as many brews out of it as possible. The tea tasting I did in New York seems a world away from Adana, and centuries ago.
One of the pours.
When I went to Chinatown Flushing in New York, I went on a tea tasting at Fang Gourmet Tea. After selecting two teas (at $20 each), the tea connoisseur explained the tea, washed the miniature cups in hot water, and brewed the tea. Five times for each tea. After each brew, we tasted the tea again.
The tea changed color with every brew.
I’ll admit that this may be too subtle for me. After a while, it just tasted like ‘tea’ to me. I could see the change in color, but I started to hallucinate that I was making up flavors and aromas just because I was supposed to be able to detect them… actually, what I found most interesting was the tea person. She had worked there for decades. She was calm and deliberate with all her movements. She really sensed every nuance in each brew… and I think she found our obtuseness a bit amusing.
The skein of a filter.
After the tasting, we could buy the teas. These are not cheap. Nothing below $45. The shop was filled with tea paraphernalia that we could buy.
Fast forward a few centuries and I live in Adana where tea is offered at every meal. And in between. But here the tea is the color of mahogany. (Turkiye has the highest per capita of tea drinking at three kilos per person, per year.)
One should only expect that every pilaf eatery is host to its own Turkish drama.
As I mentioned in another article about the meat market, I was actually on my way to a famous pilaf restaurant. After the meat market, I found my way back to the rice eatery. This type of rice restaurant is most common in Istanbul but there are some in Adana. This particular one has been open for 60 years. Now the grandson runs it on a daily basis although the grandfather does show up to keep the wait staff in order (like to tell them to get to work instead of talking to me… oops, sorry)
Like in most local places, or so it seems, the young teen touts are the ones that get you into the shop. Here there were two of them. One was wheeling a scratched blue wheelbarrow containing a large tinfoil covered cauldron. I followed him in. He proudly lifted the cauldron onto the counter and lifted the foil to reveal the steaming broad beans simmering in tomatoes. I did not order that. I was here for the rice pilaf with chickpeas (garbanzo beans) with shredded chicken breast meat on top. And the potato vegetable sauce. Oh, and the yogurt dressing not to be called tzatziki. It is called cacik (jaw-jik) here. But that is also another story.
I ordered and was guided to a table near the action. Once I sat down, the teen waiter sat down across from me with his lunch. The other teen waiter chatted to me from the next table as he used his Google translate to find questions for me. As I tried to eat without spilling (almost impossible when being watched and filmed?), the 20-something manager and the teen waiters asked me questions… Are you married? Where is your family? Where are you from? Are you here alone? Why? What do you do for work? Is America beautiful? Why are you not married? Take me with you. Mostly the teen waiters asked me these questions. I tried to deflect them as vaguely as possible and with my own questions. How old are you? Why aren’t they in school? They leave school at 12? The other waiter, a man who looked familiar in that way that he looked very Turkish, stood quietly and said nothing. I am sure I have seen his face somewhere. Maybe on the eatery’s social media.
Salt and spicy pickled chilis to taste.
Then, a man entered. He had a strong jaw and longish locks of hair curling over his thick brows. Omar worked there as well. The other boys and men in the pilaf shop extolled Omar’s English skills. Omar (I don’t recall his real name so I’ve named him after the main character in Black Love Money, a Turkish drama) had worked in Istanbul for six years at a deluxe hotel and that was why his English was as good as it was. Omar took a plate of food and sat on the tiny stool next to me. He had a moody sort of attractiveness about him that I could see the ladies might like. He looked to be about 38 so he was probably 22. Life can age one here, especially for those working since the age of 13, and smoking from before then.
Omar had recently returned to Adana. To fight with his family. He has ten brothers and sisters. He fights with his mother, his father, his brothers, and his sisters. The teen waiters and the grandson manager told me this. The silent one, who looks so familiar, nodded in concurrence. Omar fights with his family. Yes. It is so.
I asked why.
It seems that Omar lives, lived, his life as he wants and is not married with children, like he is supposed to be. Omar then said that life is bad here. He wants to go to America. The teen waiters chimed in at this point. One told me that he wants to go to Germany. Omar, and the teen waiters, wanted me to take them to America. (This reminds me of a taxi ride I had a month or so ago when the driver, through my friend’s translation skills, at first suggested that I marry him and take him to America… but then, when I told him that he was too young, offered to be adopted by me. As a joke, I said that I would have to give him a new name as well. He spent the next ten minutes laughing and saying, “Give me a name! Adopt me!” which made my Turkish friends laugh so that the taxi was rocking with our collective merriment.) At the rice shop, the question was, “When do you go? I go with you.” As if life were so simple.
Rice pilaf with chicken and meat gravy, yogurt sauce, and bread.
Speaking of proposals, this is when the drama gets Turkish. And romantic. And tragic.
Omar told me that he had met a Lithuanian girl. They fell in love. She went back home. He was going to move to be with her. Then, he found out that she had died in a car accident. As he told me this, Omar quickly wiped the corner of his eye and said, “I am not going to cry. My heart is broken.”
What a sad story.
Always tea.
At that moment, the grandfather gave a command and Omar got up. There were tables to clean. Customers to serve. Not.
I got up and paid. I had places to be. One of the teen waiters told me to give them a five star rating.
If you are wondering, the rice pilaf with chick peas was good. My meal cost 130 Turkish Lira ($3). I left a 200 note. One of the teen waiters said, “Ah, the tip” which I am sure they got from the YouTubers who made this place famous. I am not sure that the Turkish drama is told every time.
The lunar, Chinese, new year is February 17 to March 3 this year. Here is a memory of eating Chinese hotpot last year.
The OG (original gangster — a name from the 1970s for the “original”) of hot pot is a place called Hai Di Lao.
We ordered too much.
The first Hai Di Lao restaurant was opened in Sichuan, China, in 1994. Now it is a global chain with over 1,000 locations. When in Flushing, New York, we had to go.
Selection of meats.
First, even if you think you can hack spicy, go lower. We got the spiciest and the pain for the next, sleepless, 12 hours was not worth it. Never again (I hope I remember this next time!).
More stuff, from lotus root, tofu skin, dumplings, etc.
Second, make a reservation. The location in Flushing is massive. We were at table 89. The place is fun for families and there are treats in the waiting room (fresh soy milk! wowza).
Multi level swinging shelves.
Third, remember that you can order more… don’t go all out first time round. Remember to order the hand pulled noodles so that you get some good video of the guy spinning around and flipping noodles at you like a lasso.
Chicken skin.
Fourth, enjoy the aprons. It helps with the mess (and drooling?).
My dipping sauce bowl.
As you may know, sichuan peppercorns and other chiles are addictive. So while I enjoyed the spicy hot pot, I could not sleep that night and the pain in my tummy was too much.
A final note on OG. I always thinks it stands for original goat.
