Hamsi Quest

Here we are in Turkey, and it's hamsi (anchovy) season.

So we had this idea: eat our fill of the slim, silvery fishes in Istanbul. Then head to the Black Sea coast to sample them at the source. We flew to Ankara, picked up a car, and drove north to what we hoped would be our hamsi heaven.

Why the hamsi fixation? Neither Dave nor I grew up eating much in the way of seafood. Our first brush with strong-flavored oily fresh fish came only in 2003, when I purchased mackerel at a Saigon wet market, took it home, and grilled it Goan-style with a slathering of vinegary tomato and chili paste. Then that winter we vacationed in northern Italy, and I fell in love with acciughe in salsa verde -- Piemontese anchovies in green parsley sauce. We ate cured anchovies with bread and butter and snacked on fruity green olives stuffed with anchovy fillets. We carried a gigantic can of salted anchovies back to Asia in our luggage and never looked back.

But this trip marks our first prolonged exposure to the fresh specimens. And we've been hamsi hunting with gusto.

Two days after arriving we found ourselves in the kitchen of a Turkish food journalist, learning how to make the eastern Black Sea specialty hamsi pilavi (anchovy rice pilaf -- more on that to come). Upon the recommendation of a knowledgable food blogger (and fellow hamsi obsessive), we tried hamsi tava (fresh hamsi dipped in cornmeal and pan-fried) at Klemuri, Laz restaurant near Taksim Square, and followed that (on the same day, I think) with grilled anchovies at friendly Çukur Meyhanesi. On New Year's Day we ate hamsi ekmek (anchovy bread) at another Laz spot -- even leftover from the previous night, it was great. And then we packed up and took off for the Black Sea.

We had only six days, so we narrowed our hamsi quest to two western Black Sea hamsi nodes: Amasra and Sinop. In the former, a friendly town of just under 6,500, we feasted on fabulous hamsi izgara (grilled hamsi). At an old-fashioned white-tablecloth restaurant on the water, we ordered three portions to share. The hamsi arrived, lightly charred and fused into a single thin layer, on a platter twice the size of my laptop. It was a little embarassing really, but we soldiered through every last little fish, eating them whole -- and returned the next night for more. I think the waiters appreciated our obsession.

Then it was on to Sinop. Nine hours on a winding two-lane coastal road characterized by steep drop-offs and a severe lack of guard rails. It drizzled, and then it poured. We were tired, and sore from sitting.

We arrived in the dark and woke up to our first true blue-sky day of the trip. We bundled up, strolled the harbor, drank tea with fishermen, checked out the castle, and then went looking for a meal to match our grilled hamsi in Amasra.

We found it by accident, thanks to a fish seller named Mert.

Mert sells fish in the harborside fish shop opened by his grandfather. He works there with his father, his uncles, and various assorted other colleagues. Born in Sinop, Mert attended university in Istanbul. He earned a degree in chemical engineering and could have stayed on, but he chose to return to his home. "If you have money you can live like a king in Istanbul," he says. "But here in Sinop is a good life. I have a job, I have family, I have everything I need."

Mert loves fish -- that much is apparent the minute he begins talking about how to cook it. "I like to boil fish in just a little water. Nothing else. No onions, no tomatoes, just a little salt. That's the best way -- then you can really taste it."

It was 10 in the morning, and the sun glinted off the silver and black skins of the hamsi mounded in a bin at Mert's shop. When he asked why we were in Sinop in the middle of winter -- "You should come in the summer. Sinop is paradise in July." -- we replied: "Hamsi." Ahhhh .... Mert nodded in understanding. Then he invited us to lunch.

We returned at 1pm to find Mert behind the fish counter, gently tossing beheaded whole hamsi in flour as a skillet filled with a single layer of hamsi arranged in a pretty pinwheel sputtered on top of a single gas canister. The clean, ocean-y smell of the freshest fish frying drifted around the shop and out into the street, luring passers-by and customers in for a peek.

Mert placed a lid over the top of the hamsi and deftly flipped the pan over, then slid the half-browned anchovy'pancake' back into the skillet. After a couple more minutes he slid the fish into a metal bowl sitting on a low table next to the burner. He pulled a loaf of bread out of plastic bag hanging on a hook behind the fish display, opened a styrofoam containter to reveal the most gorgeous "take-out" salad we've ever seen, cut an onion into wedges, and sliced a lemon in half.

"C'mon, eat!"

Friends, we found our hamsi heaven. Steaming hot, their flour coating barely detectable, the anchovies were all crunchy tail and light crispy browned bits clinging to firm and plump, meaty torsos with a sweetness found only in specimens plucked from the sea hours before eating. Mert told us to use our hands and we did, picking the fish up by their tails and dangling them over our mouths before devouring them whole and following with bites of salad and bread.

And the hamsi kept coming, skillet after skillet, Mert's colleagues taking over at the "stove" when he went back to selling fish.

And you know what? These guys who live and breathe fish love hamsi as much as we do.

After we've eaten our fill (an embarassing amount of anchovies) Mert guides us upstairs to show us the addition his family has recently added to their shop: several floors, to house a fish restaurant. Customers will choose their fish from the display downstairs and eat it cooked as they like in one of several dining rooms boasting what must be one of Sinop's most spectacular views.

Mert's relatives will be in the kitchen. And come finer weather the restaurant's rooftop tables will undoubtedly be the hottest in town.

We're back in Istanbul now, still chasing hamsi. But we don't expect to enjoy another anchovy meal of this caliber for a very long time. Until we return to Sinop that is -- when the hamsi are running.

Mert's family's restaurant should be open in a few months. We suspect it will justify the effort of getting to Sinop. Mevsim Balıkçılık, No. 15 Tersane Caddesi. Tel. 368-261-3950.

Comments

[Eck Kheng]

Now I really must go to Turkey again!!!

[eric havaby]

Wow! With your description and David's photographs, I could actually smell the food.

I am so jealous! Excellent post.

[marts aziz]

Thank you. Beautiful.

[CT]

Wow! The hamsi looks amazing!

Reminds me a lot like fresh 'ikan tamban' (as known by the malays). A more favoured species will be the 'ikan tamban setu'.

If I'm not wrong, in Malaysia, they usually sell the dried version. However I usually eat the fresh ones, innards removed but heads intact. Marinate with salt and tumeric and deep fry. Best eaten with 'nasi lemak'.

Something akin to this: http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_n4FvZHKSd2A/TB7Cgj_DJAI/AAAAAAAAAgI/MxrrY4lGa9A/s1600/DSC_0566.JPG

[Katy]

My only experience of eating fish 'fresh from the sea' was in Damsui - where my father was born and in this restaurant of an owner who had some connection going back to my grandfather's generation. And the freshness and sweetness of the meat is just no comparison to anything you could get from the market. They actually tasted 'sweet'.

Robyn, one question - back to the 'It's a man's world" - were you the only woman lurking about 'again'? In some cultures - certainly in Chinese or Taiwanese - women are considered 'bad luck' at ports. I remember me and my friends were touring the Northern coast of Taiwan and a couple of fishermen saw us and shouted to this local friend - why the hell you bring these women here!! They weren't kidding!

[Katy]

"C'mon, eat!" - “来吃饭” :-D

[Three-Cookies]

Fried crispy anchovies (or other small fish) are absolutely delicious. I have never heard of anyone go to such lengths in search of anchovies but I totally understand. I am bit jealous...

[Toddlowe]

Fabulous.

[julie @ meatlovessalt]

oh my goodness, that looks so amazing! i love anchovies but most of the time it's coming out of a tin can. that anchovy pancake is just beautiful.

[Çağla Yılmaz]

I am from Blacksee,near the Sinop!I am very glad to find your blog and see this post about my hometown!I like Hamsi but it is so salty:)I prefer to eat "Hamsi buğulama".You should try next time in Turkey;)

[Robyn]

Thanks everyone, for the nice words.

CT-I've never found really good, fresh anchovies in Malaysia. I also wonder if it is a different sort of anchovy. But that sounds like a wonderful preparation.

Three-cookies: we have gone to ridiculous lengths in the name of eating too many foods. ;-)

julie - I like them out of a tin can as well! But this is a whole other fish.

Çağla - a small world! How lucky you are to be from a hamsi town. What is hamsi buglama? I wonder if I can find it at a Black Sea restaurant in Istanbul....

Katy - yes I was, as I usually am once we get beyond Istanbul. Turks are unfailingly polite and I do seem to acquire an 'honorary man' status when we're out and about, so it was no issue. I do tend to step back a bit but Dave doesn't speak any Turkish so I have to be up front and center now and again. That's hilarious about your experience in Taiwan, BTW. Perhaps I have an honorary man status in Taiwan as well, bec. no one seemed particularly offended by my lurking about when we visited the bluefin port near Kaohsiung.

[Josh Tuck]

Great article you guys. It reminded me of the anchovy dishes we devoured in the towns of the Cinque Terre this past September on our trip to Italy.

[Katy]

It sounded the Malaysian sort of anchovy could be similar to the Taiwan sort. We would have cooked it either dried or marinated and fried too. One Chinese version (and free from soy sauce) – stir fried spicy tofu (bean curd)with dried anchovy. Nice!

Yes, white women are just people, not women – kidding:-) Where we went wasn’t a tourist spot, so you expected the fishermen to be less tolerant about ‘visitors’; it was probably the day they were due out to sea and they didn’t want any ‘bad luck’. I also seem to recall they were complaining about a color my friend wore, I think it was red. But in any case – locals expect you people ‘won’t know it’, so you won't offend if you won't know. It’s just sea superstitions – you have that in the West too – like a woman on board is bad luck that sort of thing because it angers the sea – except having a naked woman on board would calm the sea. Not kidding – google it, there are plenty.

[Kristina]

Oh my, once again you make me want to go to Turkey asap! Those fish look amazing. I love anchovies too, all kinds, but especially the white ones cured in vinegar served in Spain and Italy.
Those fried ones you had remind me of the fried smelt my Sicilian grandmother used to make when I was a kid.

[turkey's for life]

We're yet to make it to the Black Sea regions but are determined to head there when it's hamsi season. Love the stuff! Looks like you've enjoyed more than your fill of it. :)
I've heard there's even a hamsi dessert in the Black Sea area(!) Did you see any evidence of it?
Julia

[ThirstyPig]

The pictures look amazing. And the anchovies look really good.

[Mesut]

Eat Hamsi only at Blacksea, not at Istanbul.

As a person from Blacksea living at Istanbul, I eat Hamsi rarely at Istanbul. Their taste are different. For me Fish has two class; hamsi and others. Try next time "hamsi kuşu" / "hamsi bird".

[Su-Lin]

I adore anchovies but have never had them fresh! Are they small enough to eat whole (bones and guts too)? I notice that someone is eating around the spines!

[Raluca]

Oh! Now I really crave hamsi. I am Romanian and we call these little wonders "Hamsii" :).
Can't wait to have some by the Black Sea in Romania. Loved your post immensely!

[shayma]

what is it about your photos that even though i have been to some of the places you photograph- they make me want to go and discover those v same places - as if i had never been! utterly gorgeous. as always. happy new year to you and yours. x shayma

[Jessie]

bravo you two - the post of 2011 thus far! :)

seriously though, i absolutely love this piece. there's so much depth of emotion in every sentence and yet it's completely unsentimental.

thanks so much for your wonderful writing robyn, and thanks for the beautiful pictures dave xxx

[locke]

Wow. I was already missing hamsi really bad, being a Turkish expat and living in landlocked Switzerland, of all places. It is definitely my favorite fish, or actually it's a different category in itself in terms of distinctiveness and amount of flavor, not just "fish".

Again, just wow.

[Stephanie]

Wow, what a great post to mark the year 2011! Kudos to you two =) I'm a big fan of seafood and fish in particular takes a special place in my heart. Thanks for the wonderful introduction to the world of anchovies, it really gave me a good reason to visit Turkey!

[Katy]

Robyn, so much about superstition; it just occur to me, your ‘fish quest’ first of the year is a sign of good luck! You know the Chinese tradition to have a fish dish in the New Year, the Chinese idiom called 年年有餘 (nián nián yǒu yú) and 魚 (fish) and 餘 have the same pronunciation.

Chinese created 年年有"魚", which means there's "fish" every year (to eat). 年年有"餘", means there's “leftover money” every year (to spend). Though the original word, left side means’ food’, right side means ‘I’ – together means “always food for me to eat”.

Thought you might like that $$$!

[Albert]

this is one of my favorite post from you guys.