A New York moment in a Turkish home kitchen

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A seafood bibimbap at Miss Korea BBQ on 32nd St. A hand-pounded guacamole at Rosa Mexicano at Union Square. The simplest and best pork taco I've ever had from a Mexican cart near the steps of the National Museum of the American Indian. A Brazilian family selling home-made relish, and two gruff Italian brothers selling arancinis and gnocchis at a bi-weekly street market in Jersey City. A chicken-rice plate from a halal cart on Broadway, run by an Egyptian, who was thrilled to bits because I bid him farewell with, 'Shukran Habibi."
A seafood bibimbap at Miss Korea BBQ on 32nd St. A hand-pounded guacamole at Rosa Mexicano at Union Square. The simplest and best pork taco I've ever had from a Mexican cart near the steps of the National Museum of the American Indian. A Brazilian family selling home-made relish, and two gruff Italian brothers selling arancinis and gnocchis at a bi-weekly street market in Jersey City. A chicken-rice plate from a halal cart on Broadway, run by an Egyptian, who was thrilled to bits because I bid him farewell with, 'Shukran Habibi."
The big news of the fortnight in The New York Times' storied food section was that its secretive food critics would now identify themselves—before writing reviews that could make or break a restaurant's fortunes—and that New Yorkers were no longer running open tabs at bars, preferring instead to pay per drink and leave.
Food was the great thread that held together the tapestry of my experiences in New York during an alternately warm and chilly June. I could not escape it in a city with possibly the most diverse communities and cuisines in the world. The variety and quality of the food was mind-boggling even to me from Bengaluru East and Kamanahattan, the informal moniker for humble Kamanahalli, a nearby suburb famed for its diversity. But, one visit to the original Manhattan, and the boroughs of the great city was a reminder that it was but an inferior desi copy. Also Read | The Turkish baklava has as many varieties as the Indian curry
My dear cousin, my home away from home, had stocked her kitchen and fridge with a variety of meats, cheeses, spices and eggs with shells of a blue hue and iridescent yellow yolks. Every morning in her flat in Jersey City, she squeezed the freshest orange juice for me before I set out on my daily run and walk along the seemingly endless Hudson river promenade—once a lush marshland teeming with marine life, then a bustling dockyard, and now a corridor of office and apartment towers. Across, I could see the legendary towers, including the World Trade Center and the Empire State Building. An Indian-Turkish cook-off in New York City.
It was the season of grandparents. The promenade teemed with Indian and Chinese professionals and their parents, performing child-care duties for their grandchildren in the months before the great winter freeze set in. There was no shortage of Indian food, but if there is one thing I do when I leave the country, it is to shun everything I eat at home. Otherwise, what is the point of travelling to distant shores?
It is easy to never cook in New York. But eating out isn't exactly cheap—not for Indian tourists like myself who must keep an eye on the exchange rate, nor for many New Yorkers themselves. The promise to make food more affordable for working-class residents is a cornerstone of 33-year-old mayoral hopeful Zohran Mamdani's electrifying campaign. Still, no matter how good or plentiful the city's restaurants may be, nothing quite compares to a home-cooked meal.
I was reminded of this when my cousin told me one day that she had volunteered my cooking abilities for a quiet evening at home with one of her best friends, Selva, an effervescent Turkish woman with a reputation in our family for some of the best Turkish food this side of the Western Taurus mountains and the Atlantic.
Selva showed up one balmy Jersey City evening with a beef stew, dolmas (vine leaves stuffed with minced meat, the leaves foraged from a nearby park) and a tzatziki dip. I contributed prawn masala, a Goan prawn curry and—at Selva's request—made dosas from batter procured from a local Indian store and fresh chutney.
It was quite the evening and quite the dinner, washed down with some fine Merlot.
Right after, I made a quick trip upcountry to Minneapolis to meet friends from university. We drove up to the forests along the banks of Lake Superior—the world's largest freshwater lake with legendary, ship-swallowing storms—hiked in a chilly rain, picnicked in the woods, talked about ageing, the traumas inflicted by Donald Trump and other autocrats, and menopause (they were women). I made a shakshuka one morning, but that was the last of my cooking for the trip.
We met again at Selva's place a couple of weeks later, and this time she said no contributions were needed. That evening, in her pretty apartment overlooking a quiet bay full of leisure craft and watched over by an elegant black-and-white cat, we were treated to a couscous with herb and tomato, a meat loaf, sauteed beans in olive oil, a cold zucchini salad and an eggplant entree called imam bayildi—literally, the imam fainted—served at room temperature.
We were made familiar with Turkish dinner requirements: no meat on the table when vegetables are served, and nothing reheated. At the end of that evening, I could safely say that despite my stimulating culinary adventures, nothing I had eaten on New York's heaving streets matched Selva's talents. She was kind enough to share her recipes with me. Here's my version of her zucchini salad. SELVA'S ZUCCHINI SALAD
Serves 4 Ingredients
2 zucchinis, shredded with skin
Half-a-cup fresh dill, chopped
3 dried red chillies, chopped
Half-cup walnuts, roughly crushed and sauteed Method
Saute garlic on medium flame in 2 tbsp of olive oil. Add the zucchini, and saute but take off the stove before water starts to run. Let it cool and arrange in a serving dish. Add salt and mix only before serving.
Whip yogurt with the rest of the olive oil until creamy. Add dill, half the walnuts and red chillies. Pour over the zucchini, garnish with the remaining walnuts. Also Read | Savouring the multi-cultural food pie of New York
Our Daily Bread is a column on easy, inventive cooking. Samar Halarnkar is the author of The Married Man's Guide to Creative Cooking—And other Dubious Adventures. He posts @samar11 on X Topics You May Be Interested In