Istanbul, once known as Constantinople, the heart of ancient Byzantium, and headquarters of the Ottoman Empire. I had the opportunity to spend a delightful two days there back in early 2002, not nearly enough time to experience the myriad sights and sounds. But it's better than not going there at all.
Some of the memorable things? Topkapi Palace (the official residence of Ottoman Sultans), The Hagia Sofia, my visit to a real Turkish hammam, and of course, the food. All of these are located in the neighborhood known as Sultanahmet, a promontory that separates the Golden Horn and the Sea of Marmara. While my visit to Topkapi and the Hagia Sofia were memorable experiences, the hour I spent at the Cemberlitas Hammam left the most lasting impression on me. Click here to visit their website.
The Cemberlitas Hammam is located within walking distance of most of the attractions of the district, and guide books will tell you that after (or before, depending on your disposition) a grueling day of sightseeing, there is nothing better than a nice shvitz and massage at a traditional Turkish bath.
Here's what happened when I went there. After undressing and wrapping myself in a towel, sarong style, I was led into the "warm room," which is heated by hot, dry air, not unlike the familiar Scandinavian sauna. It's here that you work up a good sweat, rinse off, then move on to the main event. I was brought in to a huge domed room, in the center of which is a large stone slab, heated by wood fires underneath. It is really humid in here. After relaxing on the slab for a while, a bath attendant came and scrubbed me from head to toe, lathering me with soapsuds so thich and dense that I've heard of people actually going missing for several days in these huge, billowy clouds. If you're looking for a good exfoliation, look no further. The attendant then rinsed me off with buckets of warm water, using a technique that may well have been the original inspiration for waterboarding.
Next, the massage. I quickly came to realize that that the hammam experience is really just a beating that you receive in a large, insanely hot and humid room. A beating administered by a large, insanely strong Turkish man. First, the deep muscle massage. When I say deep, I mean that while massaging my back muscles, my masseur was able to simultaneously massage both my left and right ventricles. He then proceeded to bend me into shapes that I never thought the human body could be bent into. I vaguely recall contemplating the details of the soles of my feet and silently praying for the sweet release of death. CIA take note; I would have confessed to anything at that point.
Lest you start snickering about hot, sweaty, half-naked men together in one room (women have their own facilities), conjuring up images of New York's infamous turkish baths, let me assure you that there is no funny stuff going on in these places. Although that wasn't always the case.
According to our old friend Wikipedia, "Traditionally, the masseurs in the baths, tellak in Turkish, who were young boys who helped wash clients by soaping and scrubbing their bodies. They also worked as sex workers. We know today, by texts left by Ottoman authors, who they were, their prices, how many times they could bring their customers to orgasm, and the details of their sexual practices... After the defeat and dismemberment of the Ottoman empire, in the quickly westernizing Turkish republic the tellak boys lost their sexual aspect, and now the tellak's role is filled by adult attendants who specialize in more prosaic forms of scrubbing and massage."
After my relaxing massage, I was led into the cold room to drink some tea, cool down and try to regain some of the feeling in my extremities. All this for about 28,000,000 Turkish liras (about $20.00). After all was said and done, I actualy did feel relaxed, and when I was dressed and back out on the street, I was ready to find a restaurant for some good Turkish fare.
And find it I did. Here are a couple of dishes I had that are easy to make and very easy to enjoy. The first is called pilaki, a stewed bean dish that is traditionally made with a bean called barbunya, difficult to obtain here in the U.S. I've substitued white beans for this recipe. Most turkish restaurants over here do the same. The second dish is called coban salatsi, shepherd's salad, which contains cucumber, tomatoes, and (hence the name) feta cheese. Pease try and enjoy.
Some of the memorable things? Topkapi Palace (the official residence of Ottoman Sultans), The Hagia Sofia, my visit to a real Turkish hammam, and of course, the food. All of these are located in the neighborhood known as Sultanahmet, a promontory that separates the Golden Horn and the Sea of Marmara. While my visit to Topkapi and the Hagia Sofia were memorable experiences, the hour I spent at the Cemberlitas Hammam left the most lasting impression on me. Click here to visit their website.
The Cemberlitas Hammam is located within walking distance of most of the attractions of the district, and guide books will tell you that after (or before, depending on your disposition) a grueling day of sightseeing, there is nothing better than a nice shvitz and massage at a traditional Turkish bath.
Here's what happened when I went there. After undressing and wrapping myself in a towel, sarong style, I was led into the "warm room," which is heated by hot, dry air, not unlike the familiar Scandinavian sauna. It's here that you work up a good sweat, rinse off, then move on to the main event. I was brought in to a huge domed room, in the center of which is a large stone slab, heated by wood fires underneath. It is really humid in here. After relaxing on the slab for a while, a bath attendant came and scrubbed me from head to toe, lathering me with soapsuds so thich and dense that I've heard of people actually going missing for several days in these huge, billowy clouds. If you're looking for a good exfoliation, look no further. The attendant then rinsed me off with buckets of warm water, using a technique that may well have been the original inspiration for waterboarding.
Next, the massage. I quickly came to realize that that the hammam experience is really just a beating that you receive in a large, insanely hot and humid room. A beating administered by a large, insanely strong Turkish man. First, the deep muscle massage. When I say deep, I mean that while massaging my back muscles, my masseur was able to simultaneously massage both my left and right ventricles. He then proceeded to bend me into shapes that I never thought the human body could be bent into. I vaguely recall contemplating the details of the soles of my feet and silently praying for the sweet release of death. CIA take note; I would have confessed to anything at that point.
Lest you start snickering about hot, sweaty, half-naked men together in one room (women have their own facilities), conjuring up images of New York's infamous turkish baths, let me assure you that there is no funny stuff going on in these places. Although that wasn't always the case.
According to our old friend Wikipedia, "Traditionally, the masseurs in the baths, tellak in Turkish, who were young boys who helped wash clients by soaping and scrubbing their bodies. They also worked as sex workers. We know today, by texts left by Ottoman authors, who they were, their prices, how many times they could bring their customers to orgasm, and the details of their sexual practices... After the defeat and dismemberment of the Ottoman empire, in the quickly westernizing Turkish republic the tellak boys lost their sexual aspect, and now the tellak's role is filled by adult attendants who specialize in more prosaic forms of scrubbing and massage."
After my relaxing massage, I was led into the cold room to drink some tea, cool down and try to regain some of the feeling in my extremities. All this for about 28,000,000 Turkish liras (about $20.00). After all was said and done, I actualy did feel relaxed, and when I was dressed and back out on the street, I was ready to find a restaurant for some good Turkish fare.
And find it I did. Here are a couple of dishes I had that are easy to make and very easy to enjoy. The first is called pilaki, a stewed bean dish that is traditionally made with a bean called barbunya, difficult to obtain here in the U.S. I've substitued white beans for this recipe. Most turkish restaurants over here do the same. The second dish is called coban salatsi, shepherd's salad, which contains cucumber, tomatoes, and (hence the name) feta cheese. Pease try and enjoy.
WHITE BEAN PILAKI
INGREDIENTS
1 can small white beans, drained and rinsed
1 small onion, diced
1 clove garlic, sliced thinly
1/2 carrot, peeled and diced
1/2 celery stalk, diced
1 small potato, peeled and diced
1 large tomato, seeded and diced
2/3 cup olive oil
water
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp sugar
COOKING
- Heat the oil and add garlic and onion. Sautee for 2 - 3 minutes
- Add carrots and continue to sautee for 2 minutes
- Add celery and potato and sautee and additional 2 minutes
- Add beans and tomato, and enough water to just submerge all the vegetables.
- Add salt and sugar, and simmer on low heat for 1 hour.
- Cool to room temperature and serve with elmek (turkish bread) or greek style pita. For a recipe for elmek, click here. I have not tried this recipe yet, but I'll reports the results when I do.
COBAN SALATSI - SHEPHERD'S SALAD
INGREDIENTS
1/2 cup cucumber, diced
2 tomatoes, diced
1 cubanelle pepper
1/2 red onion, sliced
1/4 cup fresh mint
2 tsp lemon juice
2-3 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
20 ounces feta cheese, crumbled
Salt
Pepper
DIRECTIONS
Place all the vegetables in a medium size salad bowl. Add salt and pepper to taste. Add the feta, lemon juice and olive oil and toss together. Serve along with pilaki for a light summer lunch.
