One of the first places I started speaking Turkish was with my local butcher. While neatly packaged and branded meat is widely available in Turkey as well, most still prefer their local butcher, who prepares the meat exactly as they want it. My small neighbourhood of Balat still has five butchers within a minute’s walk of each other at our main street.

At first, I had no idea which of them to go to. Was there a big difference? Did they have different specialities? Did they each have a distinct clientele, so I’d be expected to shop at one but not another?

In the end, I realised I just had to set my own criteria and then try them out in turn. I sensed that hygiene standards were perhaps not on the level I’d come to expect in London, which I’d just come from, so I decided to do my first shopping at what looked like the busiest one. That’s generally a good starting point when doing food shopping. Not only for the old school social proof, but even more because it’s a sign of high turnover. You can expect the goods on offer to be reasonably fresh.

At this point, my Turkish was so basic I’d spend the whole walk to the butcher preparing my request in my head, hoping it was clear enough that I wouldn’t get any questions back (I’d almost certainly not understand them). I ended up with a lot of köftelik kıyma (minced meat prepared for making meatballs) and tavuk göğüs (chicken breast), which didn’t really require much of a follow-up question. Cuts of beef were rather more difficult. Not only because there are so many of them, but because every food culture seems to have its very own way of dividing up the animal. Very confusing.

Everyone is welcome at the local butcher’s in Balat – even (or perhaps particularly) the street cats.

My Turkish soon improved and before long I was having small conversations with the butchers. As did my understanding of Turkish cuisine and cuts. Suddenly I wasn’t just asking for minced meat, but specified how much fat I wanted or whether it should be churned through the grinder twice, as is usual, or just once, if a coarser grind was more desirable for what I was making. If I was making something Turkish, I’d just tell them I was making karnıyarık (stuffed aubergines) or şiş kebab, and they’d prepare it accordingly for me.

The butchers seemed to take a liking to this curious foreigner who became a regular as well. One of them, a plump and friendly grandpa looking figure who masterfully sliced up a whole leg of lamb (both legs attached) in front of me when I was expecting guests and asked for a deboned leg of lamb. Another, a tall figure of similar age with a deep voice and large hands that were missing several fingers, but still quartered a chicken in a flash. A third kept a television in the corner above the entrance, always keeping at least half an eye on the football channel while preparing my order. When I asked for cuts unusual to Turkish cuisine, they started asking me what I was going to make with it. They also started volunteering suggestions about Turkish dishes they enjoyed and suggested I try out. My favourite form of cultural exchange!

I was rarely the only customer, and at times this regular ritual felt like being at the set of a movie. Especially on Tuesdays, which is market day and therefore far busier than any other day of the week. I’d see other figures come and go while waiting. Local aunties gossiping the latest neighbourhood news, children sent out by their parents to get a small amount of minced meat, the dramatic young lady that seemed to turn the shop upside down before abruptly exiting, deciding to come back later instead of waiting for her turn. Meanwhile, street cats waited patiently at the door or, sometimes, in front of the counter, for the undesirable offcuts no customer would buy.

Needless to say, while my questions regarding hygiene lingered, the thought of going back to non-customisable cuts stacked in plastic boxes on brighly lit supermarket shelves quickly started feeling like an alien concept. In fact, I started looking forward to my little trips to the butcher’s and our occasional little chats. I eventually settled for alternating between two of them through a method of elimination. One was a little too far away anyway, another too small. Rumours of questionable links surrounded a third. But mostly, I ended up with my two favourites because I really liked the people there.

But I don’t go to the butcher's just for the chat and a bit of cultural exchange. Sometimes, the service they offer makes a meaningful difference to the food I make too. One of those dishes is the Antakyan speciality tepsi kebabı. Or Turkish tray kebab, if you like. Tepsi means “tray” and this dish is simply named after the vessel on which it is cooked.

At a butcher’s in Antakya. The knife I’m holding is what they use for chopping pieces of meat into mince for tepsi kebabı, the final result of which is in front of me (all their work, but they insisted I pose!). The building the butcher shop was in sadly collapsed during the earthquakes last month.

Tepsi kebabı one of my favourite dishes from Turkish cuisine, and one which really showcases the essence of the food here. Simple, yet flavoursome. Each ingredient has an important role, but none outshine the star of the show. I’m lucky enough to have eaten the dish on several occasions in Antakya, usually at restaurants, and it’s always a highlight for me. Butchers here also specialise in it, and if locals want it at home, they can simply go to their butcher who will prepare it for them, even send it to the local bakery for cooking if you like (it’ll come back with plenty of freshly baked lavash as well).

While recreating the magic of Antakya at home is all but impossible, it is possible to make a very, very good – if a little simplified – tepsi kebabı at home. It’s best if you can get your meat from a butcher (ask for a fatty cut, such as ribs, and coarse grind), but it’ll still be very tasty with minced meat from supermarket packets (in which case I’d suggest mixing up beef and lamb).

If you want to give it a go, you can find the recipe I use along with a number of tips and a little more background on the dish on my blog through the link below.

Until next time,

Vidar

The recipe: Turkish tray kebab (Tepsi kebabı)

Iconic kebab from South-Eastern Turkey that's perfect for feeding many.

Get the recipe and tips here.

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The joys of shopping food locally