Visual Iftar Prt II: Dessert

I have been very lucky. I am not fasting, but I get all the goodness of the food of this holiday. This has given me the chance to try some new and delicious food, some that are specific to the holiday. This is particularly true of sweets. Cakes and honey soaked fruits, and breads fresh from the oven. Yum.



Fresh Almonds



Strawberry Cake



Dried Apricots and Figs with Pistachios and Honey



Gullac
This is a dessert special to Ramadan. It is made with a dough made from cornstarch,and wheat flour mixed with water. The dough is the poured into special pans and left to dry. The filling is almonds, and the topping is usually pomegranate though this one has a fake cherry. It is milky and light and sweet.



Hazelnut Chocolate Cake
One of my relatives brought this over. He is fasting so it is left to Father and I to finish. The frosting is real chocolate. I love this cake.

I went to a part of Istanbul I never go to yesterday. It is called Fatih and it is very old, very poor, and very religious. Mind you we were in the car so it wasn't a problem being there. I have gotten so used to being in places where people are secular and the restaurants are open that I forgot about the communities here built on religion. Duh right? It is hard to explain this city in a way that can suffice it's insanity. Fatih is the neighborhood my father always tells me not to go to. We went because Cousin was devising a shortcut to get to a cafe called Pierre Lotti. We never actually made it there but the journey was interesting. In Istanbul on a Sunday, a typical visit to a neighborhood will reveal the true nature of it streets and its people. You will see old men sitting on the sidewalk, spilling out of the tea houses or meyhane ( depending on where you are). The smell of dolma and pilav scent the exhaust heavy air. Children play soccer in the street. In Fatih yesterday there was not a single drop of water to be seen. To be sure, men spilled out of the tea house but without the tea. I'm sure dolma was being cooked, but not to be eaten until many hours later. The children still played because they are children and have energy. All the women draped in black sheets filing out of the markets and the men with beards and robes staring heavily into the SUV my cousin plowed down the steep winding streets, was a fascinating ride. It helped remind me of those two extreme Istanbuls. It was so different then the Istanbul I know where artists fill the sidewalks of cafes chain smoking Camels, sipping beer and discussing the political state of a nation with an unknown destination. All this in one city, on the same day, no more then one mile apart. I can't get enough of this place.