The delights of Turkish markets

When I'm travelling and arrive somewhere new, my first excursion is usually to check out the local food market, even if it means getting up unfeasibly early. I love a good market. I always think you can get under the skin of a place by seeing the fresh food on display, what's in season here, what breads do they have, what local cheeses? Abroad, even the most provincial market tends to put anything in the UK to shame. 

I was lucky enough to be in Turkey last week, in that in-between time when the last of the summer sun is still strong, but it can also pour down with rain. In Istanbul, the tourist crowds were still out in force in the Grand Bazaar and Spice Markets, drinking in the colours, sounds and sweet-spicy aromas from the produce on display.

The temptation to buy up bags of differently coloured spices, from coriander, cumin, Turkish saffron (dried marigold flowers), jasmine tea, or an aphrodisiac mixture - plenty of herb blends labelled 'viagra' - or to bring home a string of aubergine shells or dried okra was overwhelming.

We ate well in Istanbul, picnicking on mackerel sandwiches beside the Galata Bridge, where the fish are caught, filleted and grilled on the boats bobbing alongside the quay, before the fillets are stuffed into baps with salad for you. Trays of lemon juice, jars of pickles, and seasonings are brought round the tables to accompany this freshest of fast food snacks.

The best restaurant was easily the Lokanta Maya, just on the north side of the Galata Bridge, and serving modern Mediterranean/Aegean food, with an emphasis on fresh seasonal produce. Zucchini fritters, deep-fried anchovies, and smoked sea bream set exactly the right note, and dinner ended on a high note with the sublime chocolate and bergamot ice-cream.

At Lokanta Maya we also picked up a copy of Aegean Flavours, the cookbook by the restaurant's New York-trained chef Didem Şenol, which also concentrates on just-out-of-the-ground, or just-off-the-tree, produce, giving many recipes a modern Aegean twist. 

At the end of the summer season, a trip out to the provinces means you can browse happily through the local markets with room to move. The market at Yalikavak, on the Bodrum peninsula, has always been a delight – fresh seasonal produce piled high and beautifully presented. It’s not just me who thinks so: I was delighted to see that the market at Yalikavak gets its own chapter in Aegean Flavours.

By October, the Yalikavak market takes on an autumnal air, with apples, pears, pumpkins, alongside the courgette flowers. The sheer variety of produce is stunning, with aubergines, say, in pink, mauve, deep purple, short, round, or long. Or a stall devoted entirely to different kinds of grapes.

We were looking for bergamots, to recreate Didem Şenol’s chocolate and bergamot pairing. But while there were plenty of citrus, with lemons, limes, and mandalins [sic], bergamots won’t come until nearer the end of the year. 

We did come away with a good haul of fat aubergines, Turkish radishes, greens and local cheeses, ready to be mixed and dressed into mezes and salads.

Babaganoush

2 good-sized aubergines

1 clove garlic

Olive oil

Salt

Pepper

Tahini (optional)

Sit one of the aubergines on its bottom so that it fits snugly on a gas ring. Turn the gas on medium-high and let the aubergine skin char. It will turn papery and brown or back. Turn the aubergine carefully over the flame until it’s charred all over, then place in a bowl. Do the same for the second aubergine.

Once the aubergines are cool enough to handle, strip or rub off the burnt skin and discard, leaving just the flesh in the bowl. This is a messy business, so you might want to wear Marigolds.

Mash the aubergine flesh thoroughly with a fork.

Heat a little olive oil in a pan. Crush the garlic and add to the pan, keeping the heat very low so that the garlic doesn’t catch or brown. As soon as it starts a gentle sizzle, remove from the heat and add to the aubergine flesh. Mix in well, adding a little more olive oil to get a soft and silky texture. Add salt and pepper to taste, then you can also add a level tablespoonful of tahini. This will give the babaganoush a bit more depth and a softer flavour. Leave it out if you want the smoky notes of the aubergine to come through more strongly.

Pomegranate, melon and tulum peyniri

Half a pomegranate

Quarter melon

200g tulum peyniri (Turkish goat's cheese), or a reasonably hard goat's cheese, or feta

Olive oil

Pomegranate molasses

Mint leaves (optional)

Salt (maybe)

Pick out the seeds and juice from the pomegranate into a bowl. Cut both the melon and the cheese into 1cm cubes. Add to the pomegranate seeds, and toss together. Dress with the pomegranate molasses and olive oil, and taste to see if any salt is needed to bring out the flavours. The cheese may make it salty enough already. Garnish with mint leaves to serve.

Ready for picking: from the tree to the plate in approximately one minute.

Salad of Turkish radishes

Gherkin-sized cucumbers and beetroot-sized radishes.

I make this at home with my long purple winter radishes from the allotment, but it tastes perfectly summery with these crisp crimson Turkish radishes, so big they are doppelgangers for beetroot.

3 beetroot-sized radishes

Extra virgin olive oil

Pomegranate molasses

1 teasp coarse sea salt

A handful of fresh dill

Wash and scrub the radishes, and peel them if you'd rather. They look more attractive on the plate with the pink skin on, but it can be a bit tough. Slice the radishes as finely as possible into almost transparent discs and arrange on a large plate. Sprinkle with the salt, and leave for 5-10 minutes.

Drizzle with olive oil and pomegranate molasses. Just before serving, finely chop the dill leaves, discarding the stalks, and scatter over the radishes.

Which seeds for 2014?

It's seed catalogue season once again and the hefty tomes are thudding on to the mat at the Zia Maison. In previous years the cover pictures were getting glossier and glossier, rather like highly groomed supermodels. This year I notice both Kings Seeds and Suttons have gone retro with a hark back to the catalogues of a more monochrome age.

I'm thumbing through them looking for some new varieties to grow in 2014. This year's newbies have done well. The long purple radishes were fantastic, whether sliced in salads, added to stir-fries, or cooked like any other root vegetable. The mouse melons were great fun and much more prolific than I expected. The puntarelle is shaping up nicely for winter. So, what to try next season?

I'm starting a new asparagus bed next spring, and my son has requested colourful carrots. Can anyone recommend any particular varieties for either of these?

The great tomato taste test

Once every seven years or so there comes a good year for UK tomatoes. 2013 is definitely a Good Tomato Year and we only need a little more September or even October sunshine to keep the season going throughout the autumn. The last properly good year was 2006 and before that 2002 (and before that I wasn't obsessive enough to keep records).

This year, I grew eight different varieties: Black cherry, Black Russian, Pink Brandywine, Super Marmande, Red Alert, Tigerella, Sungold and Wineberry. They were all raised the same way: sown indoors in February, moved outside into pots in May. Fed once a week (ish). Actually, the Sungolds were sown later, in April, for reasons of space more than anything else. They soon caught up with the others. I also grafted some Brandywine seedlings so that I have fruit from both grafted and non-grafted. I have to say the jury is out on home grafting for the moment - the non-grafted plants are yielding just as many tomatoes as the grafted specimens.

Black cherry
Type: cherry tomato, cordon
Supplier: Nicky's Seeds
Many of  the 'Black' varieties of tomato were originally cultivated in areas around the Black Sea, including Ukraine and the Crimea, hence the names of many of these - Black Russian, see below, Black Krim, etc. There are also tomatoes available from Siberia, and all these tend to be better at withstanding our cooler temperatures than those that have been cultivated for generations in the Mediterranean, for example.
The Black Cherries were voted the best of the small tomatoes, albeit by a very small margin. With a mellow, almost smoky sweet taste and very soft flesh, they don't have that sunburst explosion that you get with Sungold. It's a much gentler sweet taste.
It's also been the tomato variety I liked growing the least. The Black Cherry plants were straggly and untidy, needing constant tying in and the yields are not particularly high.

Sungold F1
Type: cherry tomato, cordon

Supplier: most seed suppliers stock Sungold. This year's batch came from Kings Seeds.
Familiar and much loved fruits for their sweet zingy fresh flavour. Bite into a Sungold tomato and you get a burst of sweet-sharp, honeyed flavour. These are always hugely popular with children - we have converted many a tomato-hater using Sungold as bait.
I grow Sungold every year for its reliability as well as for the taste: it will grow long trusses of regular, uniformly coloured fruit as befits its F1 status. They are extremely attractive plants once staked and trimmed, with bright green leaves and cascades of trusses heavy with golden fruit.The ripe fruits do split very easily though, even if you are careful not to over-water, which is probably why you don't see them on sale in the shops.
I often sow Sungold slightly later than other varieties, not getting the seeds in until April. They catch up fast and I find the green fruits relatively quick to ripen and turn colour.
The plants invariably need stopping, ie, the tops need to be pinched out after the fourth truss has been set, or else the plants would get very tall - they reach around 2m as it is - and too much of the energy would go into producing more leafy growth and less fruity growth.

Red Alert
Type: small plum, bush

Supplier: Kings Seeds, Suttons
These are some of the easiest tomatoes to grow. The plants grow as a bush rather than in cordons and so don't need to have side shoots regularly removed, or as much tying in, although they will appreciate some support as the plants grow to maturity. Secondly - and the main reason for growing Red Alert - it is a reliably early fruiting tomato even when grown outside. Given a warm spring (so, not this year) you be eating the first Red Alerts by the end of June. And if high summer doesn't live up to expectations (think 2012, 2011, 2010), you'll have had a fair crop of Red Alerts by the time disappointment sets in.
Sadly, though, they don't compare well with any of the other varieties for taste. The tomatoes are fleshy enough, but the flavour is very bland and nondescript.

Tigerella
Type: conventional, cordon
Supplier: Organic Gardening Catalogue, Thompson & Morgan

A conventional round tomato with distinctive vertical stripes on the fruit. This scored well for taste: when fully ripe, the fruits have a piquant, concentrated edge to the sweetness. Good - and decorative - in salads as well as sauces.
I've grown Tigerella off and on for a number of years and have found that in a poor year without a good warm spell in summer that flavour often doesn;t get a chance to develop. This variety is also very susceptible to blight (see also Black Russian, Pink Brandywine, below). This year, they've been wonderful.

Black Russian
Type: multi-locular, cordon
Supplier: Fothergills and many others
Another of the 'Black' types which were developed in the Crimea/Ukraine in the 18th and 19th centuries.
This has long been our favourite tomato for cooking: whether grilling or roasting, or to go into a sauce. The tomatoes are such a good size and very fleshy, so one Black Russian tom will go a long way. It was a surprise how much less pronounced the flavour was when raw. We concluded that if they are to be eaten raw, they should be left until very ripe.
Often susceptible to blight, this year all the tomato plants have been unaffected so far and the Black Russians were the earliest to ripen of the large, 'beefsteak' varieties.

Pink Brandywine
Type: multi-locular, cordon

Supplier: Heirloom Tomatoes, Nicky's Seeds
The Brandywine tomatoes (there are Red, Purple and Yellow, as well as Pink Brandywines) were cultivated as a separate variety in the 1880s in the USA. The picture here doesn't bring out the unusual pink tinge to the colour of the fruit as it ripens. The individual tomatoes can grow very big, this one left, weighs over 350g and is just over 10cm at the widest point: great for shows so long as the judges aren't looking for regularity of shape. Like the fruits themselves, the plants, which have leaves like those on potato plants, can grow very tall.
The fruits have a softer, mellower flavour than the Marmandes, below, the sweetness coming through without much of a sharp front note. In general, the Black Russians are tastier and the Marmandes more reliably productive. Pink Brandywines are one of my lower yielding tomatoes, so it's been pleasing to get so many fruits this year. If the pinkish colour and size of the fruit isn't enough of  a talking point, I suspect I also grow these at least partly for the name - who could resist a tomato called Pink Brandywine?

Marmande
Type: multi-locular, cordon
Supplier: Franchi Seeds of Italy
When your Marmandes only start ripening in December in London you know you're not going to get much of the flavour of Provence out of them, but picked in sunshine in a warm British August, they come somewhere close.
I grow Marmandes because of all the beefsteak style tomatoes I've tried these are the most reliable. Even though they can be very slow to ripen in an indifferent summer. They also have a tendency to split as the fruits swell to ripeness, as you can see from the picture.
This year, the fruits have a lovely sweet-sharp combination, with plenty of rich flesh and juice in each tomato. These have been equally good in sauces and sliced into salads. They've contributed to some beautifully juicy panzanellas (tomato and bread salad) this summer, and on the same principle, my husband has also taken to making tomato sandwiches using thinly sliced and lightly salted Marmandes.

Vintage Wine
Type: multi-locular, cordon

Supplier: Heirloom Tomatoes, Victoriana Nursery Gardens
I've never tried these before and they were something of an impulse buy. Advertised as having the flavour of amontillado sherry, they have grown into attractive, reasonably compact plants with these very distinctive fruits: sharply defined locules and an unusual burnt orange, auburn colour. According to the catalogues, there should be red/yellow striping on the fruits - mine have tended to lose the stripes as they ripen.
So far, though, the flavour has been slightly disappointing. Not so much amontillado as watered-down cooking sherry. The fruits have a generally sweet flavour, but it's undistinguished by any extra notes.

Marmandes ripening outdoors.

Pink Brandywines, normally a poor yielder, have done well this year.

Playing Russian Roulette with peppers

Back in the 16th century, Franciscan monks brought chilli pepper seeds from the recently discovered Americas back to Galicia on the north-west tip of Spain. Back to the town Herbon in the municipal area of Padron, to be precise. Grown over generations in the green Galician valleys, the descendents of those American peppers adapted to the warm but rainy climate. Today the area grows about 15,000kg annually of the renowned pimientos de Padron, picked when green and about an inch or two long, and fried in olive oil before being sprinkled with salt and eaten with the finger as a tapas dish.

The peppers are delicious - but come with a twist. Most of them are mild and sweet, even fruity tasting. But a few in each batch - maybe one in five, one in ten - will be hot. Not as fiery as a bird's eye or Scotch bonnet - but definitely mouth-fizzingly hot. The hot peppers look no different to the mild ones - it is, indeed like playing Russian roulette, if with rather less drastic consequences.

Perversely perhaps, this characteristic of pimientos de Padron makes them popular with children - so long as it's someone else who gets the hot one.

Padron peppers grow easily enough in the south of England, where the weather can also be mild but rainy. Seeds are available from Nicky's Nursery, and Franchi Seeds of Italy, among others. Sow seeds in small pots in February and place the pots indoors on a sunny windowsill. Padron pepper seeds shouldn't need any additional heat and are reliable germinators. Grow on until after the last frost, usually the beginning of May, but this year I waited until the start of June, then transplant either into large pots for the patio, or into the open ground. I usually put three Padron seedlings into a 30cm pot filled with multipurpose compost and water them well in. Here in the UK, the small white flowers should come out in June/July and the first peppers be ready to eat at the start of August.

Pick the peppers young, or at least if you don't and leave them until they grow bigger and glossier, the proportion of hot ones will increase to one in two or three. They will eventually ripen to a deep red colour.

Preparing the peppers to eat the traditional way is simplicity itself. Choose a frying pan that will just hold your peppers in a single layer. Pour in extra virgin olive oil to cover the bottom and place over a medium heat. Add the peppers all at once:they should be clean and dry, but they should be whole with the stalks left on. Toss them in the pan to coat with oil and fry for 5-8 minutes or so, until the peppers have wilted and the skin blistered in places. Turn out into a bowl, which you can line with kitchen towel to drain off the excess oil. Remove the towel, sprinkle the peppers with coarse salt, and serve - preferably with a Galician beer or an Asturian cider.

Beanz meanz trouble

I’ve heard a mass of anecdotal evidence that this year was particularly bad for germinating French and runner beans. Even taking into account my usual method of getting enough seedlings for a crop, it was a struggle. My tried and tested procedure goes like this:

1. Sow beans in pots

2. A fortnight later, when they haven’t germinated and I am conscious that time is getting on, buy plants from local garden centre and plant out at allotment.

3. Check pots the next day to find seedlings have now germinated.

This 3-step process also works if you sow direct into the ground to start with. These beans will not germinate until you have either sown some more in pots or bought some plants from the Garden Centre. Then they will sprout.

A peck of peppers

While researching plants for the Secret Garden Club’s GrowYour Own Curry workshop last year, I found few plants that couldn’t be raised in the UK, indoors and with a little environmental control. Many spice plants grow in jungle areas, or are forest floor plants, so like a warm, humid climate and perhaps surprisingly not too much sunshine. I found myself advising placing plants in bathrooms quite often.

Since the first Grow Your Own Curry I've discovered a couple of other spice plants which will grow happily in the UK given the right conditions.

Out in the open ground, I’ve transplanted a Szechuan pepper tree (Zanthoxylum bungeanum), bought from Crug Farm in Wales. Szechuan pepper seedpods have the distinctive peppery heat of conventional peppercorns, with a hint of citrus. The plants themselves are very attractive with dark glossy leaves – and also some vicious spines, both on the main stems and along the leaf stems as well.

These should survive the British winter outside – my plant originated in Korea where winters can be harsh - but I will give it some protection if the temperature drops much below freezing. It spent last winter in the greenhouse where it succumbed to red spider mite, and so it is still catching up after quite a severe check in growth.

I’m also growing a pandan plant (Pandanus amarylifolius), pictured top, which has blade-like leaves with a sweet, aromatic flavour, ideal for infusions, for scenting rice puddings and cakes. It's often compared to vanilla - indeed the site in the last link calls it 'Asian vanilla', but it's not a direct substitute.

I've placed the plant in a north-facing bay window –so light, but not direct sunlight and in group with the cardamom plant (not in its third year), and the ginger plant grown from root. This group of potted plants stands in a very large saucer with a layer of gravel which I keep moist to keep the humidity levels up.

Leaves we like

While I like growing lettuces - I love the way they go from being a small floppy collection of leaves to big-hearted and ready for picking in the space of a week and the fresh crunchiness of a homegrown lettuce cannot be replicated in anything you buy in a shop – I’m increasingly drawn to new tastes in leaves.

Pea shoots are irresistible, although I’ve learned the hard way not to pinch out the growing shoots of the plants I’m growing for their pea pods. These days I’ll grow pea shoots as microleaves, using up the remains of a packet and scattering them over vermiculite in a shallow tray (a supermarket veg tray is ideal and usually comes complete with drainage holes in the bottom). Put the tray on a shallow bowl – or deep plate and pour water onto the plate - not the tray. Water will be drawn up through the drainage holes into the vermiculite without drowning it or displacing it. The peas should germinate in 2-3 days and shoots will be ready for eating within a week.

This same microleaf technique works with lots of different leaves and it’s well worth experimenting. Basil, rocket, radish, coriander will add flavour to salads and garnishes – and use up any dusty remains of a seed packet when there isn’t really enough to sow outside.

Oriental leaves like mizuna and mustard are good for giving salads a peppery punch. Mizuna is probably the easiest leaf in the world to grow, although I personally think a little goes a long way. It’s not the most exciting taste in the world.

For a leaf with a nutty bite to it, rocket is hard to beat. It grows readily in a pot or in the open ground and will readily self-sow as well so you can have rocket growing throughout the season for very little effort. Like mizuna and mustard it’s quick to bolt if there’s any check in its growth such as a dry spell, but the flowers are good to eat as well and the creamy yellow petals are delicately decorative.

For a long-lasting salad plant, corn salad or lamb’s lettuce is my favourite. I grow this in a long trough on a windowsill, starting it off early in the season (Jan-Feb) indoors and moving outdoors when the weather warms up. Great for cut and come again leaves. A heavy layer of vermiculite over the compost in the trough will keep the soil from splashing the leaves when you water, but be gentle with the watering can anyway – don’t blast it.

One of my favourite salad leaves is the French frisee: crunchy-stemmed and blanched in the middle. Some varieties are self-blanching but for those that are not, growing the plants to maturity without blanching will give you tough, bitter leaves. The blanching process tenderises both the texture and flavour of the leaves. I’ve had very variable results with trying to blanch my own, and must give this a go again next year. To blanch the frisee, choose a plant with plenty of healthy green leaves, and either tie up the central leaves with garden twine, or place an upturned bucket over the centre of the plant - the idea is to exclude light (as you do when forcing rhubarb). Make sure the plant is completely dry before you cover it. On several occasions I’ve uncovered my frisee to find a soggy mess.

Lettuces just beginning to develop plump, firm hearts.

Troughs of mixed leaves just outside the back door mean you can throw together a salad at short notice.