Some fourteen years ago between September and October I spent six weeks alone near the healing sea in south west Turkey.
Armed with the most simple version of a PC given by a friend,
I was inspired to write poetry linking me to Turkey and the culture.

Not a lot has changed in fourteen years. At my mountain retreat, I still hear, feel and see the heady anticipation of the tradition of harvesting, drying, preparing, marinating and storing food for the winter months.

Last Sunday, I observed how my clever Selma makes black grape syrup. ((Üzüm Pekmezi).
Over a few months, she lets this liquid ferment in ten-kilo plastic containers. Thick and dark like sticky treacle, Selma relays how it is ‘packed with’ vitamins and iron and the best cure for those with chesty coughs.
‘Take a spoonful a day or spread it on toast with pureed sesame seeds’, she suggests.

I use it when baking bread or cakes as a replacement for sugar.

Selma’s family also make a balsamic/ tamari type vinegar. It is delicious once mixed with olive oil to use as a dressing on salads or steamed veggie. It is one of my go-to marinade ingredients, along with pomegranate vinegar adding a rich flavour to slow-cooked meat dishes in winter.
The extract below is from a poem I wrote, during my first experience of spending real time in what has now become my second home:-

It’s The Season

It’s the season, to marinate
the cheese, beans
and the aubergines,

It’s time to put the chillies
on string, hang them
in the sun,

along with bulgar,
and tomatoes for they must dry,
Later to puree some.

It’s time to top, to tail,
hollow and chop,
courgettes and peppers,
crush, pound, grind
the fragrant and spicy seeds,
everywhere the sound,
of tap tapping as
the heady, pungent
aromas fill the air.

Figs and walnuts, ready for eating,
picked and dried in the sun,
used all winter long.

The honey gathered
filtered, potted,
the grapefruits,
the lemons, the oranges,
changing colour,
Soon it will be time to harvest some.