the power came back late in the afternoon in time for dinner, which was glitzey and prepared by our panel of judges, many of whom spoke english and french. i chewed pistaccios with a journalist from Food & Wine who through red lipstick gushed about burnt milk yoghourt -- you put milk in a pottery jug, heat up a stone in a fire, put the stone in the milk, and mix the milk down til you just get the aroma, like the when a custard goes just golden on top. there was the dean of culinary studies at an istanbul university, professors, an artist. i met mehmet's mother. someone produced a pumpkin. nicholas cartier who spoke the french of paris brought a side of beef and carved thick steaks out of it. a chef who represents the nation in competitions abroad roasted eggplant on the gas burner, noodles and olives and cream sauce. a professor made salad with pomegranites and a crisp dressing. more of the cold tapas appeared such as we had before, bright vegetables, beans with mussels. a spinach dish -- i don't like it, too salty, said one of the judges who got to talking about macramé and his two cats, and who sang to himself over dinner. everyone brought wine. mehmet brought several bottles made with his own grapes from the island of Bozcaada, north and west of here.
and as for the baklava? i saw it on the dinner table. i could almost taste it. we dined. they refilled and refilled my glass. i bided my time.
alas: i got to talking to a girl ("you can call me Zee, everybody does") who kept looking up at me from under the dark lid of her eyeshadow, but who also took a message on her blackberry beneath the table at dinner. she is from istanbul, talks english with a new england accent, never been to canada, doesn't know the word tuque, finds the sheer amount of antiquity in turkey to be distracting. wore black nail polish near perfectly applied and i told her so. it wasn't til i got home that i realized i'd forgotten to look out for number one. i'd forgotten the baklava.
as they say in french, désolé: to learn to look out for number one was half my reason for coming here. i redeemed myself at poker. i _destroyed my opponents. the final hands of the game: i was nearly out. mehmet and ruçhan were going head to head. mehmet's deal. he dealt two cards to each of us, looked at his two, and bet everything he had. ruçhan looked his opponent in the eye, and pushed all his chips in to match. i played everything i had left. mehmet dealt out the rest of the hand. we turned over our cards. mehmet was bluffing. ruçhan was bluffing. i held the high card: a six. i took it all. i would have traded it for some baklava.
