A few days of wistful, with weather to match-grey and foggy. Our internal clocks have adjusted, as have our appetites. Regular routines, like laundry and shopping, and work have assumed their place.
The other day, however, I opened the spice bags, added a touch of Aleppo pepper to the lamb/rice meatballs, and then I removed the skins from the cooked garbanzos, to make a velvety humus. All this while I was listening to a randomized mix of the CDs from Turkey, some of which Dore bought for us, all of it great.
I finally finished Birds without wings by Louis de Bernieres, which left me with an ache in my heart for the tragedy of the “population exchange”, and the inevitability of suffering by the many at the hands of the few stupid architects of war.
Now I am reading Barbara Nadel’s River of the dead, a mystery that takes place in Istanbul and Mardin. Not the best read, but I’m hooked.
Next on the list: Istanbul passage by Joseph Kano, and reread Istanbul noir, a collection of modern short stories edited by Mustafa Ziyalan and Amy Spangler.
In the garden: 5 huge cucumbers (3.5 inches in diameter), and a zucchini easily three feet long. The peppers are ripe and delicious. The eggplant has no fruit but insists on producing big beautiful purple flowers.
I opened a 3-lira box of Turkish delight, and got what I paid for: 6 small pieces!