Istanbul_ The Collected Traveler_ An Inspired Companion Guide - Barrie Kerper [205]
Apparently it is the thinness of the pastry layers that distinguishes Turkish baklava from all others. Sheets of pastry are rolled out so thinly that, when held up, you can see the person’s face as if through a net curtain! Though I am an accomplished baker and have made many savory dishes with phyllo dough, I admit to being rather intimidated to tackle baklava. So when I was hosting a Turkish feast recently, I decided to see if the restaurant Hamdi, in Istanbul, would send me a box of its unparalleled baklava. Unfortunately, Hamdi does not fill mail orders, and in any event I was told that the package might not make it through U.S. customs. An Internet search revealed that the famous Istanbul baklava shop Güllüoğlu had a shop in Brooklyn, so my problem was solved, and splendidly. Güllü Çelebi began baking his baklava in Gaziantep in 1871, and five generations and 138 years later, the company is the largest baklava producer in the world. In addition to standard baklava, Güllüoğlu makes more than fifty-five different kinds, as well as kadayıf and fıstıklı, other popular Turkish pastries. To become a master phyllo roller, Güllüoğlu requires a seven-year apprenticeship. For the Brooklyn café, Güllüoğlu products are sent directly from the factory in Istanbul frozen and vacuum sealed, and a trained baker bakes everything in custom-made ovens. I still swoon over Hamdi’s baklava, but Güllüoğlu’s is outstanding. The original Istanbul shop is at Mumhane Caddesi 171, Karaköy / +90 212 249 9680 / gulluoglu.com.tr, and the Brooklyn outpost is at 1985 Coney Island Avenue / 718 645 6723 / gulluoglubaklava.com.
Bargaining
Bargaining, for goods and services, is an accepted way of doing business in Turkey, though it is becoming less so. Unfortunately, bargaining makes many North American visitors uncomfortable, because, I’ve found, they don’t take the time to understand and appreciate the art of bargaining, and hence have some of the most backward and wrong opinions about it, usually stemming from the idea that they’re surely being taken to the cleaners. Bargaining is fun, interesting, and revealing of national character. It isn’t something you do in a hurry (don’t be surprised if you spend several hours in one shop), and it’s not an antagonistic game of Stratego—it does incorporate strategy, but it isn’t battleships being sunk; it’s goods or services on offer that you do or do not have to purchase.
I caution against placing too much emphasis on the deal itself. There are few absolutes in the art of bargaining—each merchant is different, the particulars of each transaction are different, and you will not be awarded a medal at the end of your visit for driving hard bargains, especially if you accumulate things you don’t really want. More important than any of my tips that follow is that you do not lose sight of the fact that what you want is something that appeals to you in some special way that you bargained for in the accepted manner. Does it really matter, at the end of the day, that you might have obtained it for twenty or fifty Turkish lira less? If you end up with a purchase that you love and every time you look at it or wear it you have a warm feeling about your trip to Istanbul, it definitely does not matter what you paid for it. There is a difference between savvy bargaining and obsessive bargaining. I don’t know about you, but when I’m on vacation, obsessing about mercantile matters is the equivalent of postponing joy.
Here are some well-practiced and worthwhile tips that have worked well for me in Turkey, Morocco, Egypt, southern France, and Asia:
Educate yourself on the items you’re interested in. If you’ve been able to learn how much these items sell for here in North America before you leave home, this is also useful information as you’ll know how much (or how little) savings are being offered.