A Turkish kitchen is a spacious building, roughly constructed, and, in the dwellings of the rich, generally detached from the rest of the house. A deep arched opening made in the wall facing the door forms the foundation of the cooking-range, which is raised about three feet from the ground and consists of a row of Ogaks—holes with grates in them over a sort of ash-bed, where the Kebab, or roast, is cooked and the smaller dishes kept warm. A sink of a primitive description occupies one side of the kitchen, and a plate-rack, containing the cooking utensils, another. The side facing the house is of open lattice-work; the floor is invariably of stone. Great attention is paid to keeping the culinary utensils, which are all of copper, clean and bright; but order and neatness in other respects are entirely disregarded, and there are few of those arrangements that render an English kitchen such a pleasant and interesting apartment. A tin lamp, such as has been used from time immemorial, is hung at one side of the chimney, and gives but a very dim light.
The kitchen is generally included in the department of the Haremlik, and is presided over by one or two negresses, who make very good cooks. The fresh provisions are purchased daily by the Ayvas, or purveyor, generally an Armenian, and passed in through the Dulap, a revolving cupboard in the wall between the Haremlik and Selamlik, used for most communications between the two departments; a loud knock on either side being answered by a servant who comes to hear what is wanted.
The Turks have two meals a day; one, kahvalto, between ten and eleven, and the other, yemek, at sunset. One or two cups of black coffee is all they lake in the early morning. The dinner is brought into the dining-room of the Haremlik on a large circular copper tray, and deposited on the floor; a similar tray is placed on a stool and covered with a common calico cloth. On this are placed a number of saucers containing hors d’œuvres, a salt-cellar, a pepper-box, and a portion of bread for each person. A leather pad occupies the centre, on which the dishes are placed in succession, and the company sit cross-legged round the tray. Dinner is announced by a slave—the hostess leads the way into the Yemek oda, or dining-room. Servants approach and pour water over the hands from Ibriks, or curious ewers, holding Leyens, or basins, to catch it as it falls; others offer towels as napkins to use during the meal. As many as eight or ten persons can sit round these trays. The hostess, if she be of higher rank than her guests, is the first to dip her spoon into the soup-tureen, politely inviting them to do the same; if her rank be inferior to that of any one of her guests, they are invited to take precedence.
Turkish soups resemble very thick broth, and are altogether unlike those found on European tables. After the soup has been sparingly partaken of, it is removed on a sign from the hostess and replaced by the other dishes in succession. The sweets are eaten between the courses. The left hand is used to convey the food to the mouth, the thumb and two first fingers doing the duty of forks.
It is considered a mark of great attention on the part of the hostess to pick up the daintiest bit of food, and place it in the mouth of any of her guests. Pilaf, the national dish, composed principally of rice, and Hochaf (stewed fruits, iced), are the last dishes placed on the table. Pure water is the only drink allowed in the Haremlik, and is handed, when required, in tumblers held by slaves standing behind the company. Before leaving the Yemek oda, the Ibriks and Leyens are again resorted to. On re-entering the drawing-room, coffee and cigarettes are immediately handed round. The way in which coffee is served is one of the prettiest of the old Turkish customs. All the slaves and attendants enter the rooms and stand at the lower end with folded arms. The coffee-pot and cup-stands of gold or silver are placed on a tray held by the Kalfa, or head-servant; attached to the tray is an oval crimson cloth, richly worked with gold. The coffee is poured out, and the cups offered separately by the other servants, who again retire to the lower end of the room till they are required to take the empty cups.
On my last visit to the capital I found many changes, and noticed that many European customs had been adopted in some of the principal houses, tables and chairs having replaced the dinner-trays in most of them, and even a complete European dinner-service might in some houses be found in use. I happened to visit a Pasha’s harem, and was invited to stay to luncheon; on being ushered into the dining room, I was agreeably surprised to find myself in a spacious apartment, furnished in the European style, and surrounded on three sides by a lovely garden where the rose, the jasmine, and the orange blossomed in profusion, breathing their delicious perfume into the room through the open windows. Three tables, richly laid, stood in the room; a large one, occupying the centre, and two smaller ones in corners. The centre one was reserved for the Hanoum and such of her guests as were entitled by their rank to be admitted to her table, the second for her daughter and her young companions, and the third for guests of an inferior degree. The luncheon went off very well, although one or two of the company appeared little accustomed to the use of knives and forks, which they held, indeed, in their hands, but, forgetful of the fact, conveyed the food to their mouths with their fingers, and consequently made a few scratches on their noses. This maladresse occasioning some merriment to the others, these offenders against European customs laid down the dangerous implements and took to their own method of eating, a very good one of its kind and demanding much more skill than the European manner. There is a neatness in the Turkish way of manipulating the food that can only be acquired by care and long practice; the thumb and two fingers alone must touch the meat, the rest of the hand remaining perfectly clean and free from contact with it.
Another incident of an amusing nature would have tended to increase our merriment had not Turkish equanimity imposed upon us the necessity of ignoring it. Mustard, an unusual condiment on a Turkish table, was handed round, perhaps in honor of my presence. An old lady, not knowing what it was, took a spoonful, and before any one had time to interfere, had swallowed it. Her face became crimson, tears ran down her cheeks, she sneezed and appeared choking; but at last, with a supreme effort, she regained her composure, and looked as pleasant as circumstances would allow.
The use of knives and forks, though fast becoming general among the higher classes at Stamboul, is not yet much introduced into the interior. During my residence in one of the provincial towns of European Turkey, these articles were occasionally borrowed from me by a rich bey for his grand entertainments. The forks I lent were electro-plate; but when they were returned I found silver ones among them, and discovered that, some of mine having been stolen or lost, the bey had them copied by native workmen.
The most refined Turkish cookery is not costly; the materials consist of mutton, fowl, fish, flour, rice, milk, honey, sugar, vegetables, and fruit. All the dishes are cooked in clarified butter in a simple manner, and fat or oil is seldom used. The average number of dishes sent to table in a wealthy house is nine at each meal. The meat is always over-cooked and badly served, except the lamb roasted whole, stuffed with rice and pistachios, and the Kebab. The latter consists of small pieces of meat cooked on skewers, and served on a Peta, a species of batter pudding. Another favorite dish is the Imam Baildi, or “The Imam fainted;” it is composed of aubergines and onions cooked in oil, and has the following rather vapid little history attached to it. An Imam stole some oil from the mosque in his care, the whole of which his ingenious wife used in cooking a dish she had just invented. This was being partaken of with much relish by the Imam till he was informed that all the oil had been consumed in its preparation, when he immediately fainted. Some of these dishes are excellent, and are relished even by Europeans.
Two Sofras, or tables, are furnished by the cook at each meal; one for the Haremlik and the other for the Selamlik. After the master and mistress have left the tables the servants take the vacant seats. The supply is unlimited, and much waste and extravagance ensue, owing to the number of guests of high and low degree that are always expected to drop in to dinner.