Chefs spice up food tours
By Clare Leschin-Hoar | Contributor to The Christian Science Monitor
Christian Science Monitor
April 19 2005
WATERTOWN, MASS. – Moving through the tightly packed Sevan’s Bakery
here in Watertown – home to a large Armenian population – chef
Ana Sortun holds up a small bag of dried mint, explaining its many
uses – such as sprinkling on just-roasted meats, or folding it into
thick, creamy Middle Eastern yogurt, commonly used in a variety of
Mediterranean dishes.
The tour group soaks up every word uttered by Ms. Sortun, nominated
for a James Beard Award. They move as a pack as she steps deeper into
the store, past the displays of olives, dried fruits, and nuts, and
into the bakery’s stainless steel kitchen, where they sample three
varieties of feta cheeses – French, Bulgarian, and the newly arrived
Turkish feta, all with slightly different tastes and textures.
Margaret Chavushian, the bakery’s owner, swings through the door with
a tray of soft mounds of red lentil kofte. Hard bagel-like breads and
flat crackers with spread Za’atar – a dry mixture of summer savory and
sesame seeds – are passed hand to hand. Murmurs and nods of approval
travel through the group. Quickly, the tray is bare and smiles abound.
This Saturday morning lesson in yufka pastry, lamejun, kibbeh,
and haloumi cheese is an example of the latest way for chefs to
connect with clientele clamoring to get up close and personal. Unlike
traditional walking tours, which are often led-to-a-chef, Sortun’s
version is chef-led.
Moving out of the kitchen and back into the shop, Sortun, who is of
Norwegian descent, stops at the display of frozen goods and points out
a number of delights such as Egyptian mantee – tiny baked ravioli-style
dumplings that are traditionally cooked in chicken broth; boxes of
lamejun – delicious pizzalike snacks that can be warmed in the oven
or on a griddle; and yufka pastry, which can be wrapped around cheese
and then fried.
Serious about her passion for Middle Eastern food, Sortun, chef-owner
of the award-winning Oleana Restaurant in Cambridge, Mass., exudes
both confidence in her knowledge of this cuisine and appreciation
for the goods displayed in this tiny corner market.
“I think sometimes there’s a curiosity that people have about how
chefs find their ingredients,” says Sortun. “People think there’s
some kind of secret, when really, we’re shopping the same way [as
home cooks]. We’re just looking for something that inspires us,
that looks good that day.
“For me, Watertown is really a special place,” she adds. “I can’t
get the ingredients they have there anywhere else. I can’t find the
labne or the yufka pastry at a lot of different places, so I rely on
them for the kind of food I use [in the restaurant].”
The students file out of Sevan’s and cross the street to Arax Market,
a Lebanese and Armenian grocer, where the sights and smells change
dramatically.
An earthy, sweet aroma prevails, wafting from the piles of fresh
produce displayed in cardboard boxes stacked on the floor. To one
side is a wall filled with clear bags of exotic spices, to the other
side are open bins of pickled vegetables and cured olives.
In the back corner of Arax are piles of flour, grains, rice, lentils,
and couscous, shelved near stacks of immense pita breads, which are
routinely prodded and tested for freshness by the store’s regulars.
“It was very exotic,” says Marcy Rizzo of Newton, Mass., one of those
on the tour. “You really felt like you were in a different country
when you walked into those stores. [The place] wasn’t Americanized –
the way of displaying things, the quality, the smells, the colors;
[or] how things like brilliant pink pickled turnips and crushed red
pepper paste are used in everyday cooking.”
Sortun deftly moves around the store fielding questions from the group
about items such as tiny bundles of dried purple eggplant that are
bound with thick rubber bands. She explains how to use fresh dates,
which are hard and light yellow – with little resemblance to their
dried, sticky, brown cousins – by slicing them very thinly and using
them atop salads.
She draws out two types of skewers and explains the difference to the
group: The round shish are used for cubes of meat and vegetables. The
flat shish are for ground meat. “They make it by kneading the beef
or lamb until the meat becomes creamy and binds itself. This is like
their meatball,” says Sortun.
The next stop on the morning tour is Massis Bakery, which feels like
a cross between Sevan’s and Arax. Here the group is treated to warm
samples of kibbeh. Since the store has many similar ingredients to
the first two, the time spent here is short.
Sortun then herds the tour across another street to Town Shawarma,
a halal meat market, where samples of grilled sujuk (a special
spiced meat mixture, similar to sausage) and a salty yogurt drink
are served. The owner, Magid Alhussein, is amiable, and brings out
the samples as soon as he sees Sortun walk through the door.
Sortun ends the tour at a small local restaurant, where, among platters
of falafel and dainty dishes of humus, her clients chatter about this
unusual peek at an often overlooked ethnic neighborhood.