So Much More than a “Turkish Bagel”
While
working on an English version of a book originally written in Turkish, I came
across the clause that explained a simit is a “Turkish bagel”
And
yes, if forced to, I would translate “simit” as “Turkish bagel.”
But it
is so much more.
I love
my New York style bagels, with a schmear, thank you.
But
nothing compares to the texture, the vaguely sweet exterior of a simit.
Plus,
simits are so sociable.
In
Istanbul, you walk into any square, off a ferry, down a road – and there’s a
simit cart.
You can
smell them.
You
hear people talking.
Even if
you don’t understand what they are saying, you are part of the dialogue on
politics, the weather, the Besiktas match, etc.
As
tourists, we all have stopped at the carts in Manhattan, set up on a busy
corner to sell bagels, hard rolls, donuts and breakfast sandwiches to rushed
New Yorkers on their way to work.
It is
not the same.
You can
get a simit all day.
I have
stayed at hotels in Turkey with endless, fresh simits – and some wonderful
homemade jams – at the free breakfast buffet set up on a beautiful terrace
overlooking the Sea of Marmara.
By the
third day, I found myself walking the streets to buy a simit.
The air
from the nearby Golden Horn and Bosphorus, the gulls diving in hope you have a
crumb of dough to toss them, the sounds of Istanbul traffic – cars, people,
trams – it all makes the simit taste like the most wonderful food from heaven.
