Filet-O-Fish

Tonight was my first evening dining at a “fancy” restaurant in Ankara.  When my friend and I arrived at the restaurant we approached an enclosed, wooded series of gently sloping stone steps.  Super adorable and tucked away from the traffic on the main road.  It was located just a block from my apartment and was called Dafne (aka Daphne).  It was lit with little LED lights glowing from the little snow that hadn’t yet melted. The door was left friendlily open so we randomly wandered up a set of old wooden stair linking us to the dining room…

It had pale, green tinted walls, with thick architecturally wood accents.  It looked similar to a ski cabin, as my friend pointed out, with the fire roasting across the room. 

I ate the most delicious food of my life... 

The best olives and hummus and salad: comprised of sliced onions and lettuce and the richest olive oil tomatoes and cucumbers. 

Describing it won’t do it justice.  It was Baby Jesus’ salad in a bowl, served with olive oil.  Perhaps it was the same olive oil Mary used to anoint Jesus with, or at least a distant relative…   

Speaking of Baby Jesus... I also hear this region has lots of Biblical sites to see, being part of the Fertile Crescent and such…  My friend commented on a theory that I believe I may try to observe in nature and then adapt as my own because I absolute love it and find it brilliant: 

She noted that people use name of the god in vain to whom they believe—example:  I say GD!  People here swear by hula-hula-hula, in like a really low gargly voice.  I guess it’s short for Allah, ie: their god. 

Totally love this observation and what it may say for atheists or agnostics…  Who do they curse to???

And yet I digress, but it’s my blog, so what the hell!  (Haha! I guess hell is a universal truth, because everyone swears to that!)

Anyways: (Scene change) back at restaurant pre dinner… and scene…

We drank a bottle of red wine indigenous to Turkey called Yakut.  Apparently the story goes that the Sheraton hotel is architecturally modeled after a wine bottle because it used to be a vineyard.  Yakut is supposed to be the wine from the vines that grew on that vineyard... Or so the story goes. Lol. 

The Sheraton hotel does look like a wine bottle, but I don’t read Turkish (quickly becoming a common theme in my blogs) so I couldn’t confirm or deny if these where true statements by, say, reading the back of the wine label or asking my delightful server. 

It’s possible that this is one of those fables that people try to get the newbie’s to buy into like “Elevator Passes” for a one-floor school.  I bought one K-12, so naturally I’d have my reservations. 

For dinner I ordered the fish special since I was told that was the best thing on the menu.  Naturally I have caviar taste, so I agreed the fish would be a perfect choice.

My friend prepared me before hand that the fish would be served whole—or with head and tail still on it… which meant you would have to fillet the fish yourself.  Something I have never done before. 

When the fish arrived, it looked beautiful.  Grilled, steamed and dead, but damn gorgeous.  Totally get why American’s don’t want to do that much work to eat—because we’re effing lazy! 

Making sure I wasn’t too obvious that I had no clue what I was doing and was observing my gracious opposite table counterpart, step-by-step, with her knife and fork, I gently moved my knife along the fish “filleting” him like a pro! 

I was expecting the characteristic Pretty Woman moment when I sent the head of my fish flying across the room and my waiter caught it, or worse in my case, it would end up staring in someone’s lap… regrettably, I have no embarrassing moment to confess except my successful first filleted fish!  (Of which kind of fish I don’t know, because, again, I don’t speak Turkish… But it was delicious.)

Throughout the meal, the old “Filet-O-Fish” Superbowl commercial line from several years ago, kept finding it’s way into my less than subtle banter. 

We also a traditional Turkish drink, which is good luck when eaten with fish, called Raki.  It was served in small clear glasses and the drink was clear.  When you added water, it bubbled a bit and magically became opaque!  It tastes a bit like Sambuca but not as sweet or syrupy. 

I had great conversation and it was great to meet someone else in Turkey my age.  When we left, because my friend left such a generous “American” tip, they brought us a complimentary fruit platter with pomegranates, apples, kiwi, oranges, tangerines and more… The service was amazing—side note from an over critical, previous server, and worth the money.