Sultanahmet Sultan Ahmet istanbul Sultan Istanbul old city hippodrome Istanbul 2010 European Capital of Culture

Where sugar meets spice | sultanahmet1.com

Intrigued by Ottoman flavours, Caroline Baum rolls up her sleeves and takes a cooking class in Istanbul.

Turkish delights ... a market stall.

I've just been handed a scimitar. At least that's what it looks like - a weapon that might have been used to lop off disloyal heads at the sultan's court in the nearby Topkapi Palace. It turns out to be the Turkish equivalent of a mezzaluna: a crescent-shaped blade, called a zirh, very large and heavy, which takes some getting used to.

The chef and teacher, Feyzi Yildirim, shows me how to rock it from side to side vigorously and then points to a mountain of fresh dill, parsley and coriander. He wants them chopped finely and I have already discovered that he's pretty exacting, even though he speaks no English. Pointing, at times, can be an eloquent method of expressing disapproval: earlier I was asked to pound and knead a bucket of salted and finely chopped onions to extract their juices. When my hands are knuckle-deep in liquid, Yildirim insists that it is not enough. But he does have a neat trick for removing the smell of onion from my hands: a quick rub with a cut lemon.

I've joined a hands-on, half-day class at Cooking Alaturka, around the corner from the Blue Mosque in Istanbul's historic precinct of Sultanahmet. There are seven others in our group and an even gender spread. We're preparing a five-course lunch of traditional Ottoman home cooking and, what's more, we've a schedule to stick to. The school, based on the model of the Cordon Bleu, is open to the public for lunch.

Alaturka is the brainchild of a determined expatriate Dutch woman and former hotelier, Eveline Zoutendijk. Trained at Cordon Bleu in Paris and after a career in hotel management in New York, she fell in love with Istanbul, learnt the fiendishly difficult language and settled here 12 years ago. Briskly efficient, Zoutendijk runs the classes herself, translating Yildirim's instructions, adding her own hints, juggling pans from stove to oven. She also has a great list of recommended restaurants, which helps visitors navigate a bewildering array of options. On request, she leads tours of produce markets, avoiding the tourist traps such as the Spice Market.

Zoutendijk has studied the subtleties and diversity of Turkish food to devise the seven menus in her school's repertoire. "I love the variety of fresh bold flavours, the foraged ingredients in salads and mezze, the kebab-house culture, the sharing of dishes, the strong emphasis on vegetables such as okra, which some of our clients are a bit unsure about; the regional variations in cheeses," she says. "Turkey is justifiably proud of being one of only seven countries that can feed itself."

All her clients "wants to do something with eggplant" and some are "a bit unsure about the yoghurt soup until they make it. When they look at the list of ingredients, their faces fall but when they taste it ... big smiles." She does not teach with seafood ("too expensive") or bread, because she doesn't have the right oven for it, and she says she doesn't have the right ventilation for grilling kebabs. Students receive recipes to keep, which means they can concentrate on technique instead of scribbling notes.

We're making a soup of red lentil, bulgur, mint and red pepper that is quick and great for freezing; imam bayildi, a classic stuffed eggplant dish that is good hot or cold; dill and cheese pancakes; stuffed vine leaves; and syrup-soaked biscuits topped with the most vibrantly green, fresh pistachios I've seen.

There's plenty to do: we each find a spot in the compact kitchen to roll out dough, beat a batter or dice tomatoes. All of us have trouble making the eggplant boats that we are going to stuff and braise. We either make them too deep or too shallow and we score them incorrectly on the inside, which means they will collapse while cooking. We are all surprised at how easy it is to stuff vine leaves once you know the folding and rolling secret, which is just like learning to make hospital corners in bed-making.

Our favourite is making a round ball of dough and flinging it hard on to a baking tin, before pressing a fresh hazelnut on top ("no fingerprints!" urges Yildirim). This is the first stage of our ultra-sweet dessert. Zoutendijk cuts down the sugar in this and most recipes by more than a third to accommodate non-Turkish palates, but it is still sweeter than we are used to.

There's a moment of panic when people walk in off the street for lunch and we realise we're running late but we set up a proper production line to plate and garnish. Yildirim is a stickler for presentation and we are a bit sloppy. But when we sit down, it's with a real sense of achievement.

Once we've left Alaturka, we become bolder about what we eat during the rest of our time in Istanbul. We sample salep from a street vendor, a hot, milky drink made from dried orchid root. We find slivers of Turkish pastrami, called pastirma, and sharp, herby cheese from the Kurdish town of Van at a classy deli called Namli, behind the Spice Market. We long to cook the sea bass displayed with its red gills turned out as proof of freshness in the markets at the Galata bridge. At a fantastic lunch place called Ciya, on the Asian side of the city, we choose a salad of braised nettles and a strange, chewy dessert of mastic, the resin that was the original ingredient in chewing gum. Our palates recognise the sweet-and-sour blend of pomegranate molasses and cinnamon, the creaminess of fresh chick peas. And when we're peckish after a morning of mosques, there's always a simit stall selling the Turkish version of a pretzel covered in toasted sesame seeds.

Getting there

Malaysia Airlines flies to Istanbul for about $1830 via Kuala Lumpur (8 hours and 11 hours). Qatar Airways flies for about $1756 via Doha (14 hours and 5 hours). (Fares are low-season return from Sydney and Melbourne including tax.) Australians require a visa for Turkey, which can be bought on arrival for about $US20 ($23).

Cooking there

Cooking Alaturka, at 72a Akbiyik Caddesi, Sultanahmet, has a three-hour class for €60 ($95) a person, including five recipes and a sit-down lunch with wine. See cookingalaturka.com.

(The Sidney Morning Herald - 13 Feb 2010)