On a trip a few years ago to Turkey, Pieter and I met up with a business associate who fetched us from Havalimanı International Airport, Istanbul’s main airport. We owned a travel agency in Johannesburg at the time and the trip to Turkey was primarily aimed at negotiating back-to-back tours. He dropped us at our hotel and we agreed on a pickup time the next morning after breakfast.
After a very nice typical Turkish breakfast, consisting of cheese, olives, eggs, tomatoes, cucumbers, jams, honey and sucuk.(spicy Turkish sausage), we were ready to face the day. Our colleague Hakan took us to his office where we met his team and had an introductory meeting. Thereafter he showed us a few main attractions nearby in the afternoon. We went to Haghia Sophia and the Blue Mosque, two of Istanbul’s most famous landmarks.
We were all hungry after this and Hakan said he will take us to Kebap Dűnyasi, which serves the best kebabs in town. We had lamb kofta kebabs, served with pita bread, some salads, dips, and sauces. We also had beef kebabs with more pita bread and dips. It was mid-January and very cold with fresh snow everywhere. Maybe this made us hungrier than normal, as one intends to eat more when its cold, and so we did. We finished the first plate of kebabs and then a second one arrived, we finished that and was getting a bit full when the third plate of koftas arrived with more pita bread and dips. Pieter and I were getting a bit worried. Being well brought up South African men, we knew we had to eat all our food on our plates or that which was offered. These are the good manners our parents taught us from an early age. “Eat all your food”, we were told and we did just that. We also did not want to be rude while our host so graciously ordered plate after plate, smiling at us, and by now did not partake in this feast anymore. Maybe this should have been an indication. He stopped eating, maybe we should have too, but we finished plate after plate. When a fourth beautifully prepared plate of kebabs lovingly baked by a Turkish mama back in the kitchen arrived, it was getting to a point where food wasn’t food anymore, but mere objects one just had to push down one’s throat. We eventually got the courage to inform our host we had enough and that it was a lovely meal, one we will not forget soon. It was not a minute too early as he was ready to place yet another order. We found out later that it is a Turkish custom for your host to expect you to eat a great deal and may be offended if you don’t. Surely we did not offend our host!
That night in our hotel room, warm and with snow falling outside, we reflected on the day, but before we could help ourselves the conversation went right back to our restaurant experience. It will always be the night where both of us had reached a point of fullness that will be hard to describe. I never wished for an evening to be over, exept for that evening in Istanbul, when it seemed the “Eat-as-if-there-is-no-tomorrow”, wont stop.