Salon Wanderlust | Orchid ice cream

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New Year's Eve 1999: Do you have plans yet? Discuss where you'll be for the changing of the millennium in Table Talk's Wanderlust area

R E C E N T L Y
Another Africa
By Chinua Achebe
Beyond the stereotypes and clichés, a photographer and writer journey into the heart of the continent
(11/15/98)
This week in travel
Hostages at Club Med, strikes in Italy, a Paris renaissance, Mideast warnings and more news from the travel world
(11/13/98)
A fiume runs through it
By Thom Elkjer
An American on a fly-fishing pilgrimage learns that in Italy, it's who you know that counts
(11/12/98)
On the road with the Smokejumpers: Part Two
By The King Teen
Shotguns and dead bunnies, pizza and beer -- a San Francisco band explores America
(11/11/98)
Tokyo sex wars: Part Two
By Karl Taro Greenfeld
The arrival of 24 "classy ladies" to work in a fledgling nightspot convulses Japan's new demimonde
(11/10/98)

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ORCHID ICE CREAM | PAGE 1, 2
- - - - - - - - - -
Western food scholars continue to debate the precise dates, locations and origins of frozen desserts, but most Turkish ice cream enthusiasts agree that salepi dondurma probably came from Maras, a city in south-central Turkey. Several species of orchids grow nearby, milk is available from cows, sheep and goats and snow is abundant for the freezing process. Similar orchid habitats exist elsewhere in the country, but for the Turkish people, Maras is the home of orchid ice cream.
A hot drink also called salep is made from dried orchid tuber flour, sugar, milk and cinnamon. For hundreds of years it has been served during the cold winter months in Turkey and neighboring areas, and when men claim that the beverage is used for strengthening the body, it is clear which part of the body they are referring to.
Ali speculated that the first batch of salepi dondurma was a mistake -- the result of a pot of hot salep freezing overnight. In an attempt to save his valuable ingredients, the salep vendor probably chipped and pried at the frozen ball of salep with a metal rod to extract the mixture from the pot. The stiffened mass of milk, sugar and salep turned out to be edible. In time, salep vendors developed the technique of kneading the mass of dondurma to a smooth consistency, using hand-forged metal rods still manufactured by Turkish blacksmiths.
Ali advised me to go to Maras if I wanted to learn more about traditional salepi dondurma. There, I could meet the master ice cream beaters and follow the entire operation, from the collecting of orchid tubers to the finished product.
The modern city of Maras, with its rapidly growing population of more than 350,000 people, is nestled at the base of the Taurus Mountains. Within minutes of my arrival in the city, I met Mevlut Dogan, an impeccably dressed sidewalk sage with a four-foot-wide handlebar mustache -- the tips of which were pinned to the shoulders of his suit jacket. Mevlut offered to guide me to my first ice cream shop in Maras.
At Yasar Pastenesi, the most elegant dondurma shop in town, I watched a man attack the inside of a metal container with a four-foot-long rod. As he jabbed and twisted his weapon, throwing his entire weight into his work, a crowd looked on. From a distance, it appeared as if he was attempting to pry tar from the bottom of the container, but he was merely scooping out portions of ice cream. He reached into the container and produced a white lump of ice cream that he shoved onto a cone, dipped into a bowl of ground pistachios and handed to the first customer in line. When our turn came, Mevlut reminded me, "If you eat dondurma, your sex life get stronger. It also prevent you getting lump on your back, and keep your chest soft ... and heal bronchitis, too."
After I ate the dondurma, Mevlut introduced me to the store's owner, Mohammed Kambur, a fourth-generation ice cream maker and the city's largest producer of salepi dondurma. Mohammed told me that orchid ice cream had been made in Maras for more than 300 years. His great-grandfather had brought snow and ice down from the mountains to use in freezing the dondurma mixture in tubs of salted ice water. He had stirred the dondurma by hand, pounded it to a smooth consistency with metal rods and then stretched it by hand.
To show me how far the business had come since those days, Mohammed took me on a tour of his modern ice cream factory, with its stainless-steel machinery and crisply uniformed workers. He uses gelato machines imported from Italy, although the final product is still beaten and kneaded with metal rods for at least 20 minutes to develop the proper degree of elasticity.
In Mohammed's office, I examined a framed photograph of a young boy jumping rope. Mohammed wasted no time pointing out that the thick white rope was a length of orchid ice cream. Clearly, this was a dessert to be reckoned with.
Mohammed introduced me to Mehmet Adnan Dedeoglu, who runs a wholesale business in salep flour, morel mushrooms, beeswax, cologne, cooking oil and fox skins. Mehmet brought out strands of dried tubers for me to look at. He depends on villagers and nomadic shepherds to bring him salep, which he grades and then sells loose, on strings, or in powdered form. Most people prefer to buy the dried tubers because some dealers cut the salep flour with inferior ingredients. The best quality is known as salepi Maras. It comes from the high mountains and sells for about $20 per pound.
We also called on Kemal Kucukonderuzunkoluk (pronounced Kucukonderuzunkoluk), who operates one of the oldest ice cream stores in Maras. After 50 years of beating salepi dondurma with an iron rod, Kemal was still enthusiastic about his ice cream, and he insisted that I try it every way it comes: with baklava, shaved chocolate, hazelnuts, fresh strawberries and sprinkled with ground pistachios. The dondurma arrived on plates, in dessert dishes and on chocolate-dipped cones, but thankfully, not in the form of a jump rope, because leaping off the ground was clearly out of the question.
It is still too early to evaluate the long-term health benefits that may result from eating this quantity of orchid ice cream, but so far the prognosis is excellent. No signs of cholera or tuberculosis, no lump on the back and no problems with the spleen. As for orchid ice cream's effect on one's sex life? Opinions vary and the debate continues. It seems to affect people in different ways, but if the long lines of men waiting for their ice cream cones in Maras are any indication, we can live in hope.
SALON | Nov. 17, 1998
Eric Hansen is the author of "Stranger in the Forest," "Motoring with Mohammed" and "The Traveler." This piece is from a book in progress, "Forbidden Flowers: The Orchid Wars," to be published by Pantheon.


	T A B L E_T A L K New Year's Eve 1999: Do you have plans yet? Discuss where you'll be for the changing of the millennium in Table Talk's Wanderlust area R E C E N T L Y Another Africa By Chinua Achebe Beyond the stereotypes and clichés, a photographer and writer journey into the heart of the continent (11/15/98) This week in travel Hostages at Club Med, strikes in Italy, a Paris renaissance, Mideast warnings and more news from the travel world (11/13/98) A fiume runs through it By Thom Elkjer An American on a fly-fishing pilgrimage learns that in Italy, it's who you know that counts (11/12/98) On the road with the Smokejumpers: Part Two By The King Teen Shotguns and dead bunnies, pizza and beer -- a San Francisco band explores America (11/11/98) Tokyo sex wars: Part Two By Karl Taro Greenfeld The arrival of 24 "classy ladies" to work in a fledgling nightspot convulses Japan's new demimonde (11/10/98) Wanderlust's Official Travel Book Partner S A L O N E M P O R I U M FREE! 12-ounce bag of Salon Blend with a purchase of $30 or more. While supplies last.		ORCHID ICE CREAM \| PAGE 1, 2 - - - - - - - - - - Western food scholars continue to debate the precise dates, locations and origins of frozen desserts, but most Turkish ice cream enthusiasts agree that salepi dondurma probably came from Maras, a city in south-central Turkey. Several species of orchids grow nearby, milk is available from cows, sheep and goats and snow is abundant for the freezing process. Similar orchid habitats exist elsewhere in the country, but for the Turkish people, Maras is the home of orchid ice cream. A hot drink also called salep is made from dried orchid tuber flour, sugar, milk and cinnamon. For hundreds of years it has been served during the cold winter months in Turkey and neighboring areas, and when men claim that the beverage is used for strengthening the body, it is clear which part of the body they are referring to. Ali speculated that the first batch of salepi dondurma was a mistake -- the result of a pot of hot salep freezing overnight. In an attempt to save his valuable ingredients, the salep vendor probably chipped and pried at the frozen ball of salep with a metal rod to extract the mixture from the pot. The stiffened mass of milk, sugar and salep turned out to be edible. In time, salep vendors developed the technique of kneading the mass of dondurma to a smooth consistency, using hand-forged metal rods still manufactured by Turkish blacksmiths. Ali advised me to go to Maras if I wanted to learn more about traditional salepi dondurma. There, I could meet the master ice cream beaters and follow the entire operation, from the collecting of orchid tubers to the finished product. The modern city of Maras, with its rapidly growing population of more than 350,000 people, is nestled at the base of the Taurus Mountains. Within minutes of my arrival in the city, I met Mevlut Dogan, an impeccably dressed sidewalk sage with a four-foot-wide handlebar mustache -- the tips of which were pinned to the shoulders of his suit jacket. Mevlut offered to guide me to my first ice cream shop in Maras. At Yasar Pastenesi, the most elegant dondurma shop in town, I watched a man attack the inside of a metal container with a four-foot-long rod. As he jabbed and twisted his weapon, throwing his entire weight into his work, a crowd looked on. From a distance, it appeared as if he was attempting to pry tar from the bottom of the container, but he was merely scooping out portions of ice cream. He reached into the container and produced a white lump of ice cream that he shoved onto a cone, dipped into a bowl of ground pistachios and handed to the first customer in line. When our turn came, Mevlut reminded me, "If you eat dondurma, your sex life get stronger. It also prevent you getting lump on your back, and keep your chest soft ... and heal bronchitis, too." After I ate the dondurma, Mevlut introduced me to the store's owner, Mohammed Kambur, a fourth-generation ice cream maker and the city's largest producer of salepi dondurma. Mohammed told me that orchid ice cream had been made in Maras for more than 300 years. His great-grandfather had brought snow and ice down from the mountains to use in freezing the dondurma mixture in tubs of salted ice water. He had stirred the dondurma by hand, pounded it to a smooth consistency with metal rods and then stretched it by hand. To show me how far the business had come since those days, Mohammed took me on a tour of his modern ice cream factory, with its stainless-steel machinery and crisply uniformed workers. He uses gelato machines imported from Italy, although the final product is still beaten and kneaded with metal rods for at least 20 minutes to develop the proper degree of elasticity. In Mohammed's office, I examined a framed photograph of a young boy jumping rope. Mohammed wasted no time pointing out that the thick white rope was a length of orchid ice cream. Clearly, this was a dessert to be reckoned with. Mohammed introduced me to Mehmet Adnan Dedeoglu, who runs a wholesale business in salep flour, morel mushrooms, beeswax, cologne, cooking oil and fox skins. Mehmet brought out strands of dried tubers for me to look at. He depends on villagers and nomadic shepherds to bring him salep, which he grades and then sells loose, on strings, or in powdered form. Most people prefer to buy the dried tubers because some dealers cut the salep flour with inferior ingredients. The best quality is known as salepi Maras. It comes from the high mountains and sells for about $20 per pound. We also called on Kemal Kucukonderuzunkoluk (pronounced Kucukonderuzunkoluk), who operates one of the oldest ice cream stores in Maras. After 50 years of beating salepi dondurma with an iron rod, Kemal was still enthusiastic about his ice cream, and he insisted that I try it every way it comes: with baklava, shaved chocolate, hazelnuts, fresh strawberries and sprinkled with ground pistachios. The dondurma arrived on plates, in dessert dishes and on chocolate-dipped cones, but thankfully, not in the form of a jump rope, because leaping off the ground was clearly out of the question. It is still too early to evaluate the long-term health benefits that may result from eating this quantity of orchid ice cream, but so far the prognosis is excellent. No signs of cholera or tuberculosis, no lump on the back and no problems with the spleen. As for orchid ice cream's effect on one's sex life? Opinions vary and the debate continues. It seems to affect people in different ways, but if the long lines of men waiting for their ice cream cones in Maras are any indication, we can live in hope. SALON \| Nov. 17, 1998 Eric Hansen is the author of "Stranger in the Forest," "Motoring with Mohammed" and "The Traveler." This piece is from a book in progress, "Forbidden Flowers: The Orchid Wars," to be published by Pantheon.