the mad turk, stamford - review

An hour is longer than I'd usually travel for a meal. Especially when that's mostly doing 70 on a motorway - that’s some distance. But with a weekend planned at the in-laws in the Bucks village of Emberton, not paying a maiden visit to The Mad Turk in (relatively) nearby Stamford was not an option. It is my cousin's gaff after all.

Stamford is a town that has, before now, sat firmly on my 'heard of it, but not a priority’ list. If it's on yours, move it to the 'go visit quick' list. Steeped in history with a core of 17th–18th century stone buildings, older timber-framed buildings and straddling the River Welland, the town is quite the quintessentially English picture. 

Not to mention it carries some celebrity gravitas: Stamford has starred in period dramas like Pride & Prejudice and Middlemarch, and it was voted the best place to live in the UK by The Sunday Times last year. 

But where it excels in sparkling-river beauty and cobbled streets, it somewhat lacks in its international cuisine offering. 

“There isn’t another Turkish or Greek restaurant anywhere around here - the closest Greek place is in Cambridge!”, Head Chef (and my big cuz) Ertunch Kazim explained.

“I doubt our food competes with some of the excellent Turkish restaurants in London, but dishes are authentic to our heritage and people seem to like it”.

Well Ertunch, you may be my abi, but you are wrong. Your food does compete with London establishments, and strongly.

Husband and wife team Ertunch and Shelly Kazim (both with Turkish Cypriot heritage) have identified and filled a gap in the Stamford market. Seats are filled each service, there’s a lot of affirmation on TripAdvisor and diners are travelling some distance to visit. Set in a listed building with the moodily-lit main dining area just below street level and a large sunny terrace out the back, The Mad Turk is a place where you could easily spend a few hours grazing on a plate of mezze or eight.

On the note of the mezzes, they are top draw. Changed daily according to the best produce Chef can get his hands on, they take the classics we’re so accustomed to and bolster them with a bit of creative flare (order the mixed mezzes for two for the full range that day - £15.99). The taramasalata is made with prawn and salmon meat along with the roe, creating an altogether richer and more indulgent dip. The spuds in the potato salad were blushed pink, stained from the presence of beetroot, a little acidity from vinegar, lifted by parsley.

Calamari squid rings were the most substantial I’ve encountered; great big bastards you could hurl over empty glass bottles and win a soft toy with at a fair. Coarsely breaded, fried and surprisingly tender despite their meatiness. A dish of well-executed chickpeas cooked in a tomato sauce with a bit of chilli pepper heat were very much like the white beans I ate in Istanbul (see 6) but with a different choice of pulse. The epitome of simplicity done well and one of my favourite Turkish dishes (ever) because of it. 

Smoky aubergine flesh layered with garlic-laced yoghurt, chargrilled vegetables and a spicy tomato sauce was difficult to leave alone, and more charred aubergine mixed with yoghurt, spinach and sumac was equally attention-seeking. How I briefly lamented over the absence of dolma (stuffed vine leaves) and arnavut cigeri (sautéed lambs liver) - it just wasn’t their day. Reasons to return on their own.

Whilst the Turks love their vegetables, pulses and bread, no meal is complete without meat. Theirs is supplied by local Grasmere farm and butchers, just a few timber building-fronts down the road.

Kadin budu (translated as “lady’s thigh” because of the way they’re shaped) are mounds of lamb mince, onion and potato, seasoned with herbs and spices; these tasted like my (and Ertunch’s) aunt’s, which is just about the best acclaim they can have (£5.99).

Then it was time for the big boys. As is typical of Turkish hospitality, you will rarely order a main course that couldn’t easily feed two, whether you’re in Stamford or Green Lanes. The Iskender (my "King of kebabs") had very well-seasoned and spiced lamb koftes served on a bed of pitta with thick yoghurt, garlic and a spicy tomato sauce (£13.99). A plate swimming with juices crying out to be mopped-up along with tender, flavoursome meat. My single niggle being I like more yoghurt on my Iskender. But then I’d put yoghurt in my coffee if I could get away with it. 

Kuzu pirzola (lamb cutlets) are marinated overnight and were exceptionally succulent because of this treatment (£14.99). Sporting a char from the lick of flames, I ripped the thin strips of meat from the length of bone with my teeth and enjoyed it immensely. 

My cousin also chucked in a few bits of lamb shish to try. I never order lamb shish, and for good reason. I don’t believe I’ve ever spent less than five minutes chewing and (eventually) swallowing a mouthful. But these were hunks of lamb steak without a trace of gristle and yielding pink juices at the centre (£14.99). One of the kitchen staff later told me Ertunch spends two hours a day removing every scrap of sinew from his lamb shish meat. Good grief, it’s mighty glorious for it.

Expect Ertunch and Shelly to wind down with the guests once service is done with complimentary shots of (that oh-so-lethal spirit) Raki making the rounds, the full-flow of conversation, warm hugs with regulars and newbies alike, and a little bit of shoulder-shimmying if the night calls for it.

A wonderful example of a great evening with very good eating beyond the green belt. Good work, cuz.

Liked lots: location, atmosphere, interiors, evident warmth of hosts shown to all guests, mezzes, locally-sourced meat, awesome kitchen staff - all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and really keen, the doumbek drum making an appearance
Liked less: finding a parking space can be a little challenging on busy evenings 
Good for: groups, romantic meals, receiving genuine Turkish-Cypriot hospitality with authentic food, ending the day spent wandering around the town

My rating: 4/5

[One thing folk should know about us Turks is that we don’t mince our words. If the borek is good, we will praise it; if the meat is dry, we will say so, be you market-trader, restaurateur, or my aunt. 

So, despite the blood-related bias many will assume this review has, I write it sporting the same hat as with all my reviews - the hat of objectivity based on facts and uninfluenced by perks, relationships, or the sharing of genes.]

Afiyet olsun.

NB Whilst I wasn't specifically invited as a guest to review this restaurant, I wasn't charged for my meal because, well, because I'm family.

imam bayaldi - turkish stuffed aubergines in olive oil

Any dish named after a tale involving an Ottoman cleric going weak at the knees due to its outstanding flavour is doing pretty well in the self-promotion department. Which is the case for imam bayaldi, literally translating from Turkish as ‘the imam swooned’. A physical reaction I often experience myself when consuming something great, so I totally get this guy.

Aubergine is one of the most revered ingredients across the Middle East, and this popular zeytinyağlı (olive oil) dish is one of the favourite ways to eat it in Turkey. It pulls no punches when it comes to the inclusion of the light green nectar; it is unashamedly oily and all the superior for it. 

Consisting of braised aubergines stuffed with an onion, tomato, garlic and herb mix and cooked in olive oil, its form breaks down to that characteristic and incredibly flavoured oily mush that this glossy purple fruit does so well. Different nuances of this style of eating aubergine can be found across Turkey and the Middle East and is almost unanimously adored by all who reside there; it's surely the best way to consume these tear-dropped treats.

On a recent trip to Istanbul (see my 10 Things to Eat in Istanbul post), I actually had this dish for the first time (how I had managed to avoid it until then I'm note entirely sure) and indulged in a bit of swooning myself. It was however sitting in a pool of olive oil and to conserve all of our arteries, I've used quite a bit less in my recipe than the purists would be happy to let slide, I suspect.
Imam bayaldi is normally eaten as a mezze (starter) and traditionally would accompany other small dishes to whet the appetite prior to the main meal. Therefore, half an aubergine is considered as one portion here. Should you wish for it to take soul centre stage, then accompany it with some quality bread to help mop up any remaining oily goodness.

Imam Bayaldi

Makes 6 starter portions

3 medium aubergines
6 small tomatoes
3 small white onions
4 cloves of garlic
2 tsp sumac
2 tsp dried mint
2 tbsp lemon juice
Extra virgin olive oil (a fair amount)
Sea salt (a fair amount)
Fresh flat leafed parsley (not included in these photos as I didn't have any, but do get it)

Wash the aubergines and peel alternating strips of the skin with about an inch thickness. Put them in a bowl, coat with sea salt and leave for 20-30 mins. The salt will draw out the bitter liquid from the fruit, and the stripes allow the aubergine to absorb more flavour during cooking.

In the meantime, make your stuffing mix. First you want to peel the tomatoes; the easiest way to do this is to lightly score a cross at one end of each tomato, plunge it into a bowl of freshly boiled water for a few seconds, and when you take them out the skin will easily peel away from the cross.

Finely slice the onions and grate the garlic and gently fry these in a very generous glug of the olive oil until they begin to go translucent. When cooked, put these in a bowl and combine with the roughly chopped skinned tomatoes, sumac, dried mint, lemon juice, salt and pepper and a good glug of extra virgin olive oil. Combine thoroughly. If you do have the parsley, roughly chop a good handful and combine with this mix. Set aside.

When your aubergines have had their 20 - 30 minutes simply wipe away the salt with kitchen paper. Peel off the little green bits around the base of the stalk. Slice the aubergines in half lengthways and try to slice right through the stem so half a stem remains on each portion. On the fleshy sides, cut a cross but do not go all the way through to the skin, and stop before you reach the edges of the aubergine.

In a couple of large pans, coat the bases with a very generous glug of olive oil and when it's hot, add the aubergines. You want to cook all sides so they obtain colour and begin to go soft. You may need to add more olive oil if it all gets absorbed.

Preheat the oven to 180C (fan).

Pack your aubergine halves into an oven dish, fleshy side up. Stuff each portion with some of the mix - try to push it right into the crosses. Pile any remaining mix on top of them. Drizzle with a further generous glug of olive oil. Add a splash of water to the base of the oven dish, and cover tightly with kitchen foil. Cook in the oven for 1hr 15mins to 1hr 30mins - it really depends on how soft you like your aubergine flesh.

When cooked, remove from the oven and allow to cool. This dish should be eaten at room temperature, so if you keep it in the fridge do take it out before hand to warm up prior to serving. Eat with other mezze dishes (perhaps some dolma), with quality warm bread and perhaps a little strained yoghurt.

Afiyet olsun.