Cig Kofte

I love Turkish food! Any New Mexican would love its creative use of hot peppers (just as hot as ours and far hotter than European varieties) and its innovative use of meat-- lamb, especially-- spiced or ground or in kebabs. I can enjoy lentil soup for breakfast, pilafs, garlic- spiced yogurt, and pizza- like "pide". All of these can be found in The Sultan's Kitchen by Ozcan Ozan, which I highly recommend.

But there are stranger things. A delicious "Iskander Kebap" I ate in Ankara-- thin slices of grilled lamb served over pita bread-- had first a tomato sauce: "juice", said the waiter: then a heaping portion of "pan drippings"-- pure liquid lamb fat-- poured over it (I loved it, though I don't know about my arteries.... no, scratch that, just got my "numbers" and they are better than usual!) Dessert was a sort of pancake of with a coarse, shredded- wheat- like texture-- shredded filo dough?-- with liquid sugar syrup poured over it.

And then there is cig ( pronounced more like "jig") kofte. In the section on (Sanli)Urfa, the Lonely Planet Guide has this to say about that regional dish: "Urfa's culinary specialties include cig kofte (minced uncooked mutton), a sure- fire recipe for gastrointestinal disaster in this hot climate..."

Well, maybe. We were privileged to see a demonstration of its preparation by Kemal, the cousin of our friend and voluntary guide, Ahmet (also the only food prepared by a male in any private house we visited). He started by taking the meat and grating it in a large metal pan with a bottom like a cheese grater as he sat on the floor (I just asked Libby what it might be called and she inventively came up with "a meat rasp!" Gradually he mixed in a small chopped onion, two or three chopped cloves of garlic, tomato sauce, and at lkeat one very hot pepper.

He did this for an HOUR, kneading it, re- mixing it, sometimes adding a little salt, working up a sweat with his efforts-- his brother occasionally wiping his brow with a towel. Sometimes he used ice to keep the mixture from sticking.

Finally he began to mix in fine yellow bulgur, kneading it in just as thoroughly. At the end, he added green onion and parsely. He served it on lettuce, in a patty, with his handprint on it like a signature. You garnish it with, perhaps, a little lemon juice or mint leaves.

I ilked it-- the strangest thing about it was its texture, from the bulgur-- and will probably atttempt a version here with the kind of quality beef you use in steak Tartare. One of my companions couldn't eat hot peppers, so it was lost on her. Janet did well that night but fell to the same thing served in a nightclub later. I survived even that-- I always say New Mexico has Third World germs.