I dunno. The local Italian deli (I am so fortunate. I have a Jewish deli, a German deli, and an Italian deli all in bike range of my home. I literally became a food critic to get someone else to pay me to find a good sandwich when I moved away from home the first time.) has a foccacia that inspires violence (when you don’t have foccacia) and kittens (there is a bike trail with cat colonies right next to all three restaurants. Which come up think of it one is like 25 miles away. It’s a nice trail. But I like eating my sammies with the other strays)
There’s a reason I’m back in the area I grew up. Only half of it is food.
I dunno. The local Italian deli (I am so fortunate. I have a Jewish deli, a German deli, and an Italian deli all in bike range of my home. I literally became a food critic to get someone else to pay me to find a good sandwich when I moved away from home the first time.) has a foccacia that inspires violence (when you don’t have foccacia) and kittens (there is a bike trail with cat colonies right next to all three restaurants. Which come up think of it one is like 25 miles away. It’s a nice trail. But I like eating my sammies with the other strays)
There’s a reason I’m back in the area I grew up. Only half of it is food.
As a perpetual Turkish foreigner, my visits back home are lists of dishes and family members.
My dad hates it because I’m fat and he’s feuding with the rest of the family.
But you try knowing pastırma, sucuk , mantı and kazandibi and not getting to eat it years at a time.
A few months ago I ended up making kokoreç out of chinchulines and fistfuls of cumin and oregano