Hosting the World: A Turkish Table — Kumpir, Baklava, Manti, and the Hospitality That Saved Us
Category: Hosting the World Series | Turkish Cuisine | Dinner Party Recipes
When people ask me which country I keep returning to, Turkey is always the first name out of my mouth. I have been to Turkey many times. I have wandered its markets, sat in its hammams, eaten my way through its coastal towns and mountain villages. Once, I spent an entire month there, and even that did not feel like enough. I fell in love with Fethiye especially, a turquoise coastal town in the Mugla province where the food is fresh, the water is impossibly blue, and life moves at a pace that makes you question every choice you have ever made. Turkey is one of those countries that gets into your bones. And when I decided to bring it to my table as part of my Hosting the World series, I knew I was not just cooking dinner. I was trying to recreate a feeling.
This is a country where hospitality is a cultural inheritance. The Turks call it misafirperverlik, a deep-rooted value of welcoming the guest with warmth and generosity that goes back centuries. It shows up in the way a shopkeeper presses a glass of çay into your hand before you have looked at a single item. It shows up in the way a neighbor sends over a plate of food when they know you are unwell. And it showed up for me in a way I will never forget, which I will get to in a moment.
For this dinner, I set a full Turkish table. We are talking kumpir, adana kebab, izmir köfte, mercimek çorbası (lentil soup), manti, pide, pilav with chickpeas and chicken, Turkish beans without meat, bulgur salad, red cabbage salad, cacık, sütlaç, baklava, and Turkish çay to close the night. It was ambitious. It was also completely worth it.
What Is Turkish Hospitality?
Before we talk about the food, we need to talk about what Turkish hospitality actually means, because it is the context without which none of this makes sense.
Misafirperverlik is one of the most deeply embedded values in Turkish culture. A guest in a Turkish home is not simply welcome but honored. The table is set generously, often far more than anyone could eat, because abundance is a form of respect. You will almost never leave a Turkish table hungry. You will often leave having eaten more than you intended to.
But Turkish hospitality is not only about grand gestures. It lives in the small moments too. The glass of çay offered before a conversation begins. The extra dish sent over without being asked. The reception desk employee who climbs the stairs to your room with a tray of soup and rice when he could have stayed at his desk. That last one is a story I need to tell you.
The Dish That Meant the Most: Pilav, Chickpeas, and Chicken
My mother, my aunt, and I were traveling together in Turkey. We had been moving around, doing what travelers do, eating everything, walking everywhere, soaking in as much as we could. And then we got sick. All three of us, at the same time, in the same hotel room. The kind of sick where you cannot move, cannot imagine food, cannot do anything except lie down and feel very far from home.
We had not asked for anything. We had not called the front desk. But somehow, the man working the reception that evening knew. Maybe he noticed we had not come down. Maybe someone mentioned it. I do not know. What I do know is that he appeared at our door with a tray, and on that tray was pilav, the simple Turkish rice dish cooked with chickpeas and pulled chicken, mild and warm and exactly what three sick women needed.
It was not a complicated dish. It was not a multi-course meal. It was rice, chickpeas, and chicken. But it was the most meaningful meal of that entire trip, and I have thought about it many times since.
That is what real hospitality looks like. It is not always the long table set with a dozen dishes. Sometimes it is one person noticing that you need something and bringing it to you without being asked. Turkish pilav with chickpeas and chicken, or tavuklu nohutlu pilav, has been on every Turkish table I have sat at since. It is humble, nourishing, and deeply symbolic to me.
To make it for this dinner, I cooked long-grain rice in chicken broth, added whole chickpeas and shredded poached chicken, finished it with a generous amount of butter, and let it rest. It is the kind of dish that does not photograph dramatically, but that everyone reaches for first. Serve it warm, covered in a thin cotton cloth to keep the steam in, exactly as it is done in Turkey.
The Soup That Healed Us: Mercimek Çorbası
I cannot talk about that trip without mentioning the mercimek çorbası, the red lentil soup that was also on that tray. If the pilav was comfort, the soup was medicine. Smooth, golden-red, rich with cumin and a swirl of paprika-infused butter on top, it is the soup every Turkish mother and grandmother knows how to make. It is served at breakfast, lunch, and dinner without apology. It is the first thing you are given when you are unwell.
Red lentil soup is one of the great underrated dishes of world cuisine. The lentils cook down entirely, creating a velvety texture that needs no cream, no thickener, nothing but a good hand with spices and a final flash of melted butter with red pepper flakes and dried mint poured over the top at serving.
For this dinner, I made a large pot and served it as the opener, in small cups, so guests could sip while we set everything else out. The response was unanimous. Two of my guests asked for the recipe before the night was over.
The key ingredients you need:
Red lentils, onion, garlic, carrot, tomato paste, ground cumin, paprika, vegetable or chicken broth, salt and black pepper, and the critical finishing touch: butter melted with sweet paprika and dried mint poured over each bowl at the moment of serving. Do not skip that last step. It is the whole thing.
Çay: The Heartbeat of Turkey
If you have been to Turkey, you already know. If you have not, here is what you need to understand: Turkish çay is not a beverage. It is a social institution.
Çay, pronounced roughly like “chai” but distinctly Turkish in preparation, is served in small tulip-shaped glasses, always. Not mugs. Not cups. Tulip glasses, so you can see the deep amber color of the tea against the light. It is brewed in a double kettle called a çaydanlık, where the top pot holds strong concentrated tea and the bottom pot holds boiling water, and each glass is poured to the drinker’s preference for strength: more concentrate for a dark brew (called koyu), more water for a lighter one (called açık).
You will be offered çay everywhere in Turkey. The carpet shop. The ferry. The barber. The bus station. The moment you sit down anywhere that has a human being in it, çay appears. I have been handed glasses of çay while standing on a street corner. I have been offered it in the middle of a price negotiation (this is a tactic, but a delicious one). I once counted how many glasses I drank in a single day in Istanbul and stopped counting at eleven.
For this dinner, I served Turkish çay at the end of the night as the traditional close to the meal, along with the baklava and sütlaç. I set the table with tulip glasses and kept the pot going so guests could pour their own. It was one of the simplest things I did all night and one of the most talked about.
If you are recreating a Turkish dinner at home, please do not skip the çay service. You do not need a çaydanlık (though you can find them online and they are worth buying). A strong brew of black Turkish tea, available at most Middle Eastern grocery stores, in a regular teapot will work. The glasses matter though. Find the tulip glasses. It changes the experience entirely.
The Full Turkish Menu: Every Dish on the Table
Kumpir: Istanbul Street Food at Home
Kumpir is a Turkish street food institution, and if you have walked along the Ortaköy waterfront in Istanbul, you have seen the stalls where vendors build these enormous stuffed baked potatoes to order. A large russet potato is baked until completely tender, then sliced open and the inside is mashed directly in the skin with a generous amount of butter and kaşar cheese, a mild, melty Turkish yellow cheese.
Then comes the loading. Traditional toppings include corn, olives, pickles, Russian salad, sauerkraut, sauteed mushrooms, roasted red peppers, and whatever else the vendor has on offer. The result looks almost cartoonishly large. It is a full meal in a potato.
Adana Kebab
Adana kebab is one of the most iconic dishes in Turkish cuisine, named for the southern city of Adana where it originates. It is a hand-shaped ground lamb (or a lamb and beef blend) kebab, seasoned with red pepper flakes, sumac, onion, garlic, and a blend of Turkish spices, then molded around flat metal skewers and grilled over charcoal.
The key to a good adana kebab is the fat content and the seasoning. The meat must be fatty enough to stay moist on the grill. At home without a charcoal grill, a cast iron grill pan over high heat gets you close. Serve with lavash or pide bread, raw onion dressed with sumac, sliced tomatoes, and roasted peppers.
Izmir Köfte
While adana kebab is fiery and grilled, izmir köfte is a different creature entirely. These are oval meatballs, again made from ground lamb or beef, seasoned more gently, browned in a pan and then braised in a tomato-based sauce with potatoes and green peppers.
The braising is what makes this dish. The meatballs finish cooking in the sauce, absorbing the tomato and becoming incredibly tender. This is a one-pan dinner party dish that gets better as it sits. I made it the day before and reheated it, and it was noticeably more flavorful than when I first tested it.
Manti: Turkish Dumplings
Manti are tiny Turkish dumplings, and I do mean tiny. Traditional manti are small enough that the old saying goes a skilled bride can fit forty into a single spoon. They are filled with a simple mixture of seasoned ground beef or lamb and onion, pinched closed into little peaked packages, then boiled and served with a generous pour of garlicky yogurt sauce and melted butter with red pepper flakes and dried mint poured over the top.
Manti is labor intensive and I will not pretend otherwise. Making them for a dinner party of ten required a full afternoon of rolling and folding. But they are absolutely extraordinary, and nothing like them exists in most Western food traditions. If you want to buy pre-made manti to save time, look for them at Turkish or Middle Eastern grocery stores in the freezer section, like I did!
Pide: Turkish Flatbread
Pide is the everyday flatbread of Turkey, softer and slightly thicker than a lavash, with a golden chewy crumb and a lightly crisp exterior. I baked mine plain to serve alongside the kebabs and köfte, but pide can also be made as a boat-shaped flatbread pizza with toppings, which is a version you will see at dedicated pide restaurants all over Turkey.
Cacık: Yogurt and Cucumber Sauce
Cacık is the Turkish version of the yogurt and cucumber sauce that appears across the region under different names. Made with thick strained yogurt, grated cucumber, dried mint, garlic, olive oil, and a pinch of salt, it is cooling, creamy, and essential alongside grilled meats. Some versions are thick, some more liquid and served almost as a cold soup in summer. Mine was on the thicker side, meant for spreading on pide or dolloping beside the kebabs.
Turkish Beans Without Meat: Kuru Fasulye
Kuru fasulye is arguably the national dish of Turkey. You will find it in every home, every lokanta (neighborhood restaurant), every school cafeteria, and every military mess hall in the country. It is that embedded in Turkish daily life. The name simply means “dry beans,” and the dish is exactly that: dried white beans, typically navy or cannellini beans, simmered low and slow in a rich tomato and onion base until the beans are completely tender and the broth has thickened into something deeply savory and satisfying.
The classic version is made with cubed beef or lamb, but the vegetarian version I made for this dinner is not a compromise. It is a legitimate and equally beloved preparation. The beans themselves carry enormous flavor when cooked properly, and the tomato base, built with onion, garlic, tomato paste, diced tomatoes, sweet paprika, and a good amount of olive oil, does the rest.
Kuru fasulye is traditionally served with plain pilav on the side and often with turşu (Turkish pickles) and a piece of crusty bread. It is peasant food in the most honorable sense of the word: inexpensive, nourishing, deeply flavorful, and eaten with equal enthusiasm by everyone from schoolchildren to prime ministers.
Do not rush this dish. The beans need a long, gentle braise. Start them a day ahead if you can.
Bulgur Salad and Red Cabbage Salad
Both salads served as fresh contrast to the richness of the meat dishes. The bulgur salad, inspired by the Turkish kısır, combined fine bulgur soaked in hot water with tomato paste, fresh tomatoes, cucumber, green onion, flat-leaf parsley, lemon juice, olive oil, and a generous amount of red pepper paste. It is bright, slightly spicy, and texturally interesting.
The red cabbage salad was simple and sharp: thinly sliced red cabbage dressed with lemon juice, olive oil, salt, and a handful of fresh herbs. It cut through the fattiness of the kebabs beautifully and added color to the table.
Sütlaç: Turkish Rice Pudding
Sütlaç is the Turkish rice pudding, and it is one of the most comforting desserts in the world. Made by simmering short-grain rice in whole milk with sugar until the mixture thickens to a creamy, spoonable consistency, it is then topped with a deeply caramelized crust in the traditional oven-baked version, or served plain and chilled in the stovetop version.
I made the baked version, finishing individual ramekins under the broiler until the tops developed a dark, lacquered brown. The contrast between the cold creamy pudding and the slightly bitter caramelized top is what makes it extraordinary.
Baklava
I will be honest with you: I bought the baklava. Turkish baklava made properly, with paper-thin handmade phyllo and clarified butter and finely ground pistachios, is a craft that takes years to master. The baklavacılar (baklava shops) in Turkey have been doing this for generations. For a dinner party of ten, my energy was better spent elsewhere.
What I did do was source it from a Turkish bakery, heat it gently, and serve it at room temperature with the çay. Every guest assumed I had made it. I am choosing to take that as a compliment to my presentation.
How I Set the Table for Turkey
The Turkish table is abundant and communal. Dishes are set out together rather than served in strict courses, and guests are encouraged to move between them freely. I used ceramic dishes in earthy tones, deep reds and terracotta, scattered small bowls of olives and roasted peppers as starters, and placed the tulip çay glasses down the center of the table as decoration before they became functional at the end of the night.
A long table with visible generosity is the point. Turkey does not do minimalism at the dinner table.
Why Turkey Is Always Worth Returning To
I have been to 54 countries. Turkey is one I keep returning to by choice. Fethiye, specifically, holds something I have not found anywhere else, that particular quality of light in the late afternoon, the smell of the sea mixed with anise from the raki bottles on the restaurant terraces, the ease of being welcomed everywhere without ceremony.
The dinner I made for this series was a love letter to all of that. To the month I spent there. To the market mornings and the ferry rides and the afternoon glasses of çay that became three glasses and then five because the conversation was too good to end.
And to the man at the reception desk who climbed those stairs with a tray of soup and rice for three sick women who had not even asked. That is the Turkey I wanted to bring to my table. Not just the food, which is extraordinary, but the spirit behind it.
That is what Hosting the World is really about.
Frequently Asked Questions About Turkish Cuisine and Hosting
What is the most important dish in Turkish cuisine?
That is genuinely impossible to answer because Turkish cuisine is one of the most diverse in the world, varying significantly by region. But mercimek çorbası (red lentil soup) and pilav (rice dishes) are the most universally present across all Turkish tables.
What does çay mean in Turkish?
Çay simply means tea in Turkish, but in practice it refers specifically to black Turkish tea brewed in a çaydanlık double kettle and served in tulip-shaped glasses. It is the most consumed beverage in Turkey.
What is the difference between cacık and tzatziki?
Both are yogurt and cucumber preparations, but cacık is the Turkish version and typically uses dried mint rather than fresh dill, and is sometimes served more liquid than the Greek tzatziki.
Can I make manti ahead of time?
Yes. You can form the manti and freeze them uncooked on a tray, then transfer to a bag. Cook directly from frozen in boiling salted water. They actually hold their shape better from frozen than when cooked fresh.
What is kumpir?
Kumpir is a Turkish street food consisting of a large baked potato mashed inside its skin with butter and kaşar cheese, then loaded with a variety of toppings including corn, olives, pickles, and salads. It originated as a street food in the Ortaköy neighborhood of Istanbul.
This post is part of the Hosting the World with Emilia Kim series, where I cook a full traditional menu from one country each week and host a dinner party around it. Follow along on Instagram at @theemiliakim for behind-the-scenes from every table.
