New York to Istanbul - Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Summertime

As it turned out, I had managed to arrive in Istanbul for the hottest summer in thirty years. After only two days in  the brick oven-like construction of the Uçaksavar dormitory, I was feeling like a tandoori chicken. I had to get out of there before I marinaded myself in yogurt.

Thus, the weekend found me on a bus with a my new friends: Stephanie and Rachel, and they expect me to show them around. This unexpected position of leadership would have been less stressful if Rachel didn't keep referring to me as "Oh Captain, My Captain."

By way of bus, foot and some blurry memories, we navigated the winding streets of Istanbul to the Beyoğlu, a neighborhood known for its fish market and its many meyhanes, small tavern-style restaurants.  Somehow, we had acquired a sizeable following from among the good students attending the Boğaziçi University Turkish Language and Culture program along the way.  I picked a meyhane as I usually do, based on the good humor of the proprietor, who motioned to a long table with 12 chairs and joked that they had been waiting for us all day.

Mezzes are the Turkish version of a Pan-Mediterranean tradition of meals consisting of many small dishes, baskets full of bread and the local Anise liquor, rakı. Most of the offerings are simple, fresh fare: a crumbly white cheese with olives and fresh melon, a spicy red pepper paste, seaweed salad with olive oil and lemon juice.  But, it was something else offered at this establishment that caught Stephanie's eye.

"Ooo, they have lamb brains!" Stephanie said excitedly.  "Do you want to split an order?"

I raised an eyebrow at the veined blobs sitting in the glass refrigerator case like props from a B-grade science fiction feature.  I shrugged.

"Sure, why the hell not?"

The brains were prepared with a minimum of fuss, simply chopped and sauteed in olive oil, brought out with a couple of lemon wedges.  After knocking back a glass of strong anise liquor, I dug in, surprised by the brain's  mild flavor and custard-like consistency.  Not exactly chicken wings, but an excellent drinking food anyway.

Eventually, we ended up at my second favorite bar in Istanbul, a stone-hewn rock 'n roll establishment a short walk from Beyoğlu called “The 45.” The good students didn't last ten minutes before leaving, complaining that the jukebox was too loud. Which is kind of like getting out of the swimming pool because the water is too wet, if you ask me.

Turkish beer tastes much better in a loud, cheap dive anyway. Even if it does occasionally cause me to spray lamb brains all over the wall of a bar...