Soup & A Story To Go:
Nasrudin in the Soup

(e-SoupSong 26: June 1, 2002)

ONCE UPON A TIME, Nasrudin, the olden Sufi Mulla, was penniless and sat huddled in a blanket while the wind howled outside. "At least," he thought, "the people next door will not smell cooking coming from my kitchen--so they can't send round to cadge some food." At that the thought of hot, aromatic soup came into his mind, and he savoured it mentally for several minutes. There came a knocking on the door. "Mother sent me," said the little daughter of his neighbor, "to ask whether you had any soup to spare--hot, seasoned soup." "Heaven help us," said Nasrudin, "the neighbors even smell my thoughts."

Many nations claim Nasrudin as their own, but Turkey is adamant that this real life Sufi master was born in the Turkish village Ak Shehir (Eskishehr) in the 15th century--and there challenged his students to find the true way to knowledge through his many seemingly simple stories. One thing is sure, his stories are incredibly human and often laugh-out-loud funny. And yet, even if you read them as jokes, they stay in your mind and tease you into thinking about them. One minute you're thinking about a crabby, hungry man startled out of his reverie by a needy neighbor, the next you're turning over in your mind that the young girl is actually coming to Nasrudin for spiritual nourishment, as he himself is hungry for it too.

How about this one: Nasrudin saw some tasty-looking ducks playing in a pool. When he tried to catch them, they flew away. He dipped some bread in the water then started to eat it. Some people asked him what he was doing. "I am eating duck soup," said the Mulla.

One last one before we get to fabulous Turkish soups: Hearing that a man wanted to learn the Kurdish language, Nasrudin offered to teach him. Nasrudin's own knowledge of Kurdish was limited to a few words. "We shall start with the word for 'Hot Soup,'" said the Mulla. "In Kurdish, this is Aash." "I don't quite understand, Mulla. How would you say 'Cold Soup'?" "You never say 'Cold Soup,'" Nasrudin replied, "The Kurds like their soup hot."

Badaboom...but not really.

In Turkey, people take their soups seriously. They eat substantial soups--heavy on the lentils, rice, meats, and rich vegetables--for lunch or for the main course in family meals. And they start a proper meal with light soups that stimulate the appetite, often light broths with lemon and eggs or with whipped yoghurt.

While the Kurds may like their soup hot, Turks set the standard for cold soups centuries ago. Alas, I can't choose between my two favorites. Both incredibly easy to make; both drop-dead refreshing and delicious on a hot day.

SOGUK DOMATES ÇORBASI (for 6)

3 cups of tomatoes (preferably fresh summer tomatoes, but canned are fine)
1 Tablespoon olive oil
2 Tablespoons lemon juice
2 Tablespoons white vinegar
1-2 teaspoons curry powder
pinch of salt
1 cup yoghurt, beaten til creamy

Garnish: minced parsley

Puree tomatoes in a blender until liquified, strain out seeds if you like, then add oil, lemon juice, vinegar, curry powder, and salt. Blend, then pour in yoghurt and mix well. Chill for at least 2 hours. When ready to serve, ladle into small bowls and garnish with minced parsley.

CACIK (for 4-6 people)

1 large cucumber, peeled and chopped
1 garlic clove, minced
1 Tablespoon white vinegar
2 cups plain yoghurt
3 Tablespoons water (can use ice cubes to chill fast)
1/4 teaspoon salt
3 Tablespoons olive oil
2 Tablespoons dill, chopped
2 Tablespoons mint, chopped

In a blender, puree cucumber and garlic--pulsing the blades to liquify the chopped cubes. Toss in the dill, salt, water, oil, and yoghurt and mix well. Refrigerate until ice cold. When ready to serve, ladle into very small, cold bowls.

Okay, one last Nasrudin story:

Nasrudin's wife, angry with the Mulla for some reason, brought the soup to him boiling hot, hoping that he would scald his mouth with it. As soon as it was on the table, she forgot and took a gulp herself without cooling it. Tears came to her eyes, but still wanting the Mulla to likewise try the boiling soup, she dissembled. "Why are you crying," he asked her. "My poor old mother, just before she died had some soup like this. The memory made me weep." Nasruden turned to his soup and took a burning mouthful. Tears were soon coursing down his cheeks too. "Why Nasrudin, surely you are not crying?" she said. "Yes," said the Mulla, "I am crying at the thought that your poor old mother died and left you alive."

Best regards,
Pat Solley

Resources: Neset Eren's The Art of Turkish Cooking; Alice Geer Kelsey's Once the Hodja; Irfan Orga's Turkish Cooking; Claudia Roden's A Book of Middle Eastern Food; Idries Shah's The Exploits of the Incomparable Mulla Nasrudin and The Pleasantries of the Incredible Mulla Nasrudin

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NEXT MONTH: 18th Century P.O.W. Antoine Parmentier Saves France with Potato-Leek soup.