Soup and Ethnography

Soup and ethnography may seem like a strange combination but read on. On Saturday morning one of my fellow teachers and I went around the corner to a pastry shop to get something to eat. Actually, most of the pastries are savory, even the ones that don’t look like it. Last week I ordered something that looked like it was filled with nuts and it turned out to be ground meat of some sort. Oh well, it was good.

After our little pastry feed, we went across to Oli’s, a smallish supermarket which is part of a local chain. What did I see in the produce section but fresh leeks. Since it’s been raining and a bit chilly, I immediately thought of leek and potato soup. I have a great recipe at home, which I remember called for cream. But I couldn’t remember much else. I thought I’d better go home first and find a recipe I liked on-line and then return and buy the leeks. You can imagine what happened. I went back and all the leeks were gone. I “asked” the produce man if he had any more (by asking I mean I looked up the word for leek in the dictionary and pronounced it while I pointed to the empty box.) He responded with a flurry of Turkish and energetic gestures which I understood to mean “no” but he’d get getting more. I couldn’t tell whether he meant that afternoon or the next day. But I was hopeful enough that I bought the other ingredients, except bay leaves, which they didn’t carry.

When I returned to the apartment complex, I ran into our super on the terrace. I showed him my paper on which I had written the Turkish for laurel tree; I hadn’t been able to find anything for bay leaf or bay tree in my dictionary. With my thumb and forefinger showed him the shape of the leaf. He wrote something else on the paper, which I think might have been “leaves.” He told me Oli’s wouldn’t have it and gestured in the direction of downtown. He talked for quite a while and I didn’t know exactly what he was saying except I got the feeling he said he’d take care of it.

I was a beautiful afternoon – high clouds that often broke for sun. Familiar Seattle sunbreaks. I decided to walk up to the big Migros at the top of our hill, a trek of about 45 minutes. It was worth it. The view was wonderful and you could see so much sky. I did find leeks but no bay leaves. I was certain I would because they carry so many spices – in fact, they even have soy sauce. And didn’t the Greeks make wreaths out of laurel leaves? However, an English-speaking employee said they didn’t carry bay leaves and the only place I would find them would be in the spice market downtown. Sigh. No soup that day.

True to our pledge to do at least one “cultural” thing on the weekend, this same colleague and I took off Sunday morning to visit the ethnography museum. She had heard it was very small but worth the trip. We armed ourselves with her guidebook and a rather large map of Gaziantep. We’d located the museum on the map in her book and on my map and rode the bus until we were fairly close. As we stood on a corner under our umbrellas – it was raining steadily by then – trying to figure out where we were on the map, a gentleman came up and asked if he could help. He told us the museum was rather far from there. After trying a couple of times to explain how we’d get there, he said he’d simply walk there with us. It turns out English is his hobby and he welcomed the chance to speak with us. (I’ll write about the museum later as this posting is getting way too long.) After the visit I pulled out my little “laurel tree leaf” paper and asked him if he knew where the spice market was. In fact, we weren’t too far. He took my little paper to a couple of vendors – the third one actually had bay leaves. He asked how much I wanted and I said just a little bit. A “little bit” turned out to be 100 grams, which cost 2 lira, about $1.25. You know how much 100 grams of bay leaves is? A lifetime supply!

Well, the soup got made and was enjoyed by all. Here’s the clincher. When I arrived home from work on Monday, the super came striding across the terrace with a small bag for me. He’d brought me bay leaves – a second lifetime supply! And he’d only paid 1 lira. I think I’ll be making a lot of leek and potato soup – and anything else I can put bay leaves in.