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From Turkish cacik cometh Bulgarian tarator, hallelujah!

In Franco Spain, Alice B. Toklas, lover of Gertrude Stein, took up a culinary mystery. After sampling glorious bowls of gazpacho and not discovering their origin, she rose to the challenge. Comparing likenesses among Spanish gazpacho, Polish chlodnik, Turkish cacik, Greek [and Bulgarian] tarata, she crowed in her 1954 cookbook “from murder to detection is not far. And here is a note on tracking a soup to its source…I came to the conclusion that recipes through conquests and occupations have travelled far.”

Her instincts were excellent; her conclusions suspect: “Had the Poles passed the recipe to their enemy the Turks at the siege of Vienna or had it been brought back to Poland much earlier than that from Turkey or Greece? Or had it been brought back by a crusader from Turkey? Had it gone to Sicily from Greece and then to Spain? It is a subject to be pursued.” Talk about being off the mark. But, hey, I also have made some really boneheaded guesses about the migration of recipes. It’s nice to be in this fine woman’s company.

But, speaking of Bulgaria, let’s talk about the magic combination of cool cucumbers and yogurt that Alice observed in cacik and tarata-that are now staples of the Turkish and Balkan peninsulas.

Okay, still a best guess, but cukes and yogurt likely found each other in ancient times in southern India, where cukes were first cultivated, milk cultured, and raita born. Ancient Greece soon cultivated both—and had lots of commerce with its sometime enemies Turkey (Troy) and Iran (Persia). However the concept spread in ancient times, it is sure that Greece has had its tzatziki; Turkey its cacik; and Persia its mast-o kheeyar literally for ages. And as noted last week with supa topcheta, Ottoman Turks carried their cuisine to the far reaches of their empire: Bulgarians, Macedonians, Albanians, Serbians all have their own versions.

Turkish cacik (for 4-6 people on a hot summer night)

Cacik (pronounced Ja-JEEK) is, in fact, a salad…a meze dip…and, with a little cold water, a soup. It means “everything green” as the basic white cucumber and yogurt combo is larded with herbs, often mint, dill, and thyme. And it’s usually served in a small cup, almost as a drink to sip, to accompany a meal (scrumptious with grilled lamb, kebabs, etc.). Here’s a good, representative recipe:

• 1 large cucumber, peeled and chopped
• 1 garlic clove, minced
• 1 Tablespoon white grape or apple vinegar
• 2 cups plain yoghurt
• 3 Tablespoons water
• ¼ teaspoon salt
• 3 Tablespoons olive oil
• 2 Tablespoons dill, chopped
• 2 Tablespoons mint, chopped

In a blender, puree the cucumber and garlic, then liquefy. Toss in the dill, mint, salt, water, oil, and yogurt and blend on high. Refrigerate until ice cold. When ready to serve, traditionally as part of the main meal, pour into very small bowls and top with a drizzle of olive oil and/or a pinch of ground sumac.

Bulgarian tarator (for 4-6 people)

So what’s all the fuss about Bulgarian tarator, if it’s just a variation of cacik? The fuss, in fact, is the amazingness of Bulgarian yogurt. On Bulgarian farms, whole milk is fermented with live Lactobacillus bulgaricus—instead of the usual Streptococcus thermophilus-and is further cultured by micro-organisms that are naturally present in the farmyard. Alas, because of these special conditions, you can’t duplicate its creamy tartness, even if you use a Lactobacillus bulgaricus culture with your processed milk. But do use the highest quality yogurt you can. Tarator is lighter, cleaner, more tart than cacik and is served in big bowls as a first course. Some will serve it as a starter to Easter dinner; most consume it, and often, during the hot summer. Maestro Kurt Mazur uses the following representative recipe for his favorite soup:

• 2 cucumbers, peeled and chopped
• 1 garlic clove, minced
• ½ cup water
• 4 cups excellent quality plain yogurt
• ½ teaspoon salt (or more-taste to season)
• 2 Tablespoons dill, chopped

Garnish: ground walnuts (these are traditional although the maestro prefers toasted almond slices)

In a blender, puree the cucumber and garlic, then liquefy. Toss in the water, yogurt, salt, and dill, and mix well. Refrigerate til ice cold. When ready to serve, ladle into bowls and sprinkle with freshly ground walnut.

Back in 2010, my son Bill moved his family to Sofia, Bulgaria, his first assignment as a foreign service officer. I was over the moon-a 3-hour direct flight from Paris to my 4 grandchildren. And there they all were, on the slopes of Mount Vitosha, just minutes in one direction to ski, in another direction to the fabulous 13th century Boyana Church, in another to a charming local restaurant for Bulgarian home cooking.

Who ever heard of Bulgarian cuisine? I hadn’t and was eager to see what a complex ancient history, 500 years of Ottoman rule, and 50 years of Soviet-led communism had done to the food.

Famous worldwide for its yogurt (kiselo miyako) and its brined white cheese (sirenye), Bulgarian dishes are curiously heavy with new world foods-tomatoes, chili peppers (and paprika, the powdered version), beans, and potatoes-reputedly because, unlike suspicious Europeans, the Turks practically grabbed them out of Colombus’ hands and lavished them throughout their their empire.

The result? Excellent and distinctive food…and, of course, soups. In the weeks ahead, as I try to figure out how to revamp soupsong.com, I like to share some recipes that I’ll be adding to the new site. First up: Supa Topcheta (Meatball Soup), a traditional family favorite and staple of school cafeterias. Adapted from “Mother Linda” Forristal’s Bulgarian Rhapsody.

SUPA TOPCHETA (for 6)

Creamy, tangy, woodsy from the parsley, and with tender meatballs and the bite of carrots-this is soup for the hungry. One of the most filling soups I’ve encountered. Many recipes add tomatoes (in brackets), and you can convert it from a meal to a substantial course by omitting or halving the pasta.

• 4 scallions, chopped far down into the green
• 1 medium carrot, diced small
• [optional 3 peeled tomatoes, diced small]
• 4 Tablespoons oil
• 2 Tablespoons salt
• 1 teaspoon Hungarian sweet paprika
• 5 cups water
• 2/3 pound ground meat
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1 teaspoon Hungarian sweet paprika
• 4 Tablespoons raw rice
• 1 egg white (reserve yolk for final assembly)
• flour for coating meatballs
• [2 or 1 or no nests of angel hair pasta]
• 1 cup yogurt
• 1 egg (plus the reserved egg yolk)
• 1 cup flat parsley, chopped
• lemon juice and black pepper, to taste

Heat the oil in a large saucepan over medium heat, stir in the scallions, carrots, and salt, then the 2 Tablespoons water. Cook until the carrots are soft, about 3 minutes. [If you use tomatoes, you do not need to add the water.] Stir in the paprika and let it release its flavor into the fat. Add 5 cups water and bring to a boil

Make the meatballs by mixing well the meat, salt, paprika, rice, and egg white. Pinch off small pieces, roll into balls, and coat with flour, lining the meatballs up on a plate. When the water is boiling, add the meatballs, one by one; bring back to a boil, then reduce heat to low, partially cover, and cook for 20 minutes. [If you using the pasta, add 5 minutes before the meatballs are done.]

At this point, you can turn off the heat, cover, and leave for final assembly later.

When ready to serve, beat the yogurt in a bowl and whisk in the eggs. Reheat the soup, if it has cooled, and stir a quarter cup of the hot liquid into the yogurt-then a half cup-then stir the yogurt mixture back into the soup. This “zastroika” method keeps the eggs from getting stringy and makes a lovely consistency. Keep the soup on low. Stir in the black pepper, salt to taste, and the chopped parsley. You may stir in the lemon juice at the end or serve a wedge of lemon with each serving. Garnish each bowl with chopped scallions.

Almost 5 years since my last post on Halloween 2009. Five years! A lot of soup under the bridge…many European, African, and Latin American adventures under my belt…relocating from Paris back to Washington, DC…and just now retiring from the day job (!) to what I hope will be a new era for soupsong. The plan? Nothing less than ditching the old format of soupsong.com and a lot of its content to create Soupedia, a compendium of traditional soup recipes from all time periods and cultures that I hope will largely flow into the site from soup lovers around the world. And fast, before the globalization of food and custom make us forget these storied traditions. It’s going to be a long haul, folks, as I figure out 21st century tools and laboriously reprogram the content. But along the way I hope to tease and tempt you on this blog with stories and recipes I have collected during my long absence. And what better way to start, now that I’m back in the poisonous politics of Washington, DC, than with an 18th century American crab soup from the hand of our first First Lady Martha Washington? Appropriately, I adapted a recipe found in Washington insider Cokie Roberts’ Founding Mothers: The Women Who Raised Our Nation, credited to Poppy Cannon and Patricia Brooks’ 1968 book of presidential recipes. It is light and lemony but rich - and heady with a whiff of sherry to stimulate the appetite. Need I say it? PERFECT for these cool spring days. Don’t you wish you had a cup right this minute? MARTHA WASHINGTON’S CRAB SOUP (6 servings)

• 3 eggs, hardboiled
• grated rind of one lemon
• 1 and 1/2 tablespoons butter
• 1 and 1/2 tablespoons flour
• 4 cups milk
• salt and white pepper to taste
• 1 cup crabmeat (ideally lump Chesapeake crab, but all crab is good in this)
• 1/2 cup heavy cream
• 1/2 cup dry sherry
• Garnish: strips of lemon rind and parsley

Mash the hardboiled eggs and grated lemon rind together and reserve. Melt the butter in a large saucepan over low heat, whisk in the flour and blend for a minute or two. Slowly whisk in the milk, turning up the heat to medium, and bring to a boil. Whisk in the egg/rind and cook gently for 5 minute to thicken. Season with salt and white pepper to taste. Right before serving, stir in the heavy cream and crabmeat and bring just to a boil. Remove from heat, add the sherry, and serve immediately. Garnish each bowl with a curl of lemon rind and a parsley leaf.