Greek Mountain Village Baklava

I can return home now. I tasted baklava as good as Tanya's, in a little hill town called Sirince.  Here is the maker of the baklava:

It was fresh. It wasn't too sweet. I wanted to bring the whole tray home, but my friend, Nasip, said it would only keep for four days. Sorry. Here is the tray right out of the oven:

And here is the next step - the syrup is poured over the whole thing and sits for an hour before it is served:

Here's how I got to see the village of Sirince: I had the whole day free with my (last) night bus leaving at 9:30. I was supposed to check out at 11 am. Ugh. I am toured out. I asked the manager of the hotel if I could pay for a half day so I could have an air-conditioned place to hang out and take a shower before the dreaded bus.

He said sure. And he said I know what you should do today. Nasip has the day off and he will take you to his home village. I had spent my breakfast telling Nasip - the guy who works the front desk - where he should go when he travels in Southeast Asia, but I felt a little strange having his boss tell him he had to entertain me for the day.

Well, Nasip turned out to be the best rent-a-friend ever, especially because I didn't have to rent him at all. And his town - and his grandma - were possibly the highlight of my trip. (I realize I keep saying that.) The town is known for its olive oil, for its chili flakes and saffron, for its wine. And there is the cutest town market, which is about seven kilometers outside of Selcuk. Tourists make their way up here after seeing Ephesus, but it has remained pretty pure. Meaning there are no formal tours here - only for those who can navigate the public bus, and for lucky people like me.

I got to see the family house, drink the family's secret stash of blackberry wine (underneath a wrap-around wooden seating area, with cushions, of course)

see the room where he and his grandfather stomped on the grapes and made the olive oil, see the huge wine cellar under the Christian church and was led to all of the best spices and Turkish delight in the market - and got to buy everything at the "friend" price. We also walked to the top of the town, with this view (pillows to relax on at the tower, of course, like the rest of Turkey...)

Here is the a shot from the tower on the highest point of the village:

Have you ever tasted a grape right off the vine?

Only educated through the fifth grade, Nasip spent most of his youth helping his grandfather on the farm (which included eggplant). He learned English "on the street," and did his mandatory military service nine years ago on the border of Iraq, where two of his friends were shot in the head right next to him. He also witnessed "a whole field" of Turkish soldiers murdered below him.

He only told me these things when I asked questions. Most of the time, he was just quiet, asking me what I wanted to see or buy.

He said that most of the men of the village died young, so the women ran the market. When his grandmother came back to visit with us, "others" took over her stand. I asked about his father, and he said he never knew him. He was in prison for fighting and died there when Nasip was ten.

At the end of our visit, we returned to the baklava shop and ordered pide, which is Turkish pizza. I have had this a few times, but this one had a cracker-like crust, and was pulled right out of the wood oven. Delicious.

Great, great day. Most dreaded upcoming night. I think the memories of the mountain village will get me through it.

Back to Istanbul for a few days, then home. I am ready. For home. Really ready.