Some dishes stay with you long after childhood.
I remember visiting my grandfather Ali’s village in the Taurus Mountains with my mother and sister. Life there was hard, particularly during the summer when everyone was busy preparing for winter.
There were always people coming and going. Sometimes 15 or 20 people would be working in and around the house, and feeding everyone was a big part of the day. After hours of physical work, people needed food that would give them energy.
One dish I remember particularly well was incredibly simple. Dried apricots, poached until soft, arranged around a huge bowl and drenched in homemade browned salted butter.
At least eight of us would sit around the same bowl, tearing pieces of homemade sourdough flatbread and dipping them into the warm butter and apricots. No individual plates, just everyone sharing from the middle of the table.
Years later, I came across a dish in another restaurant made with bacon butter, almonds and dill. I loved the idea, and it immediately reminded me of those summers at my grandfather’s village.
That’s how our browned butter and apricots found their way onto Amber’s menu. We’ve added fresh dill, sumac and roasted almond flakes, finishing it with Maldon sea salt. The dish has changed, but the memory behind it hasn’t.
I’ve always found it fascinating how completely different cultures can come up with remarkably similar food, particularly when they share similar climates and ways of life.
Perhaps the chef who created the dish that inspired me had a similar childhood memory. I’ll probably never know.
For me, food has never really respected borders. Ingredients, techniques and ideas have always travelled, long before anyone decided where one country ended and another began.
And sometimes, a dish you discover somewhere else takes you straight back to a table you sat around as a child.
Murat
