Greek and Turkish Delights

In honor of Christmas, the Ottoman Empire and the upcoming theatrical release of The Lion The Witch and The Wardrobe, (which is mostly upcoming to me because it has not been released in Greece yet) I feel that it would be appropriate to say a few words about Turkish Delight. I think most Americans really only think of Turkish Delight when they think about the Chronicles of Narnia. In fact, I would venture to say that most Americans don't actually have a clue what Turkish Delight actually is, but they are generally excited about it anyway, since they know it as the candy that lured Edmund Pevensie away from his family and into the cruel clutches of the White Witch. Any candy that causes a person to forsake their entire family for a second bite has got to taste pretty good, right?
Well, the author of this article (http://www.slate.com/id/2131903/nav/tap1/) really doesn't think so. Actually, whenever I see the stuff I think back to my middle school theatre days, when I played Susan in a local production of The Lion, etc, and the entire cast tried the stuff, only to declare it thoroughly unworthy of all that fuss. Personally, I do not have any particular malice toward Turkish Delight, but if a witch offered me a box of whatever kind of candy I wanted, that's not the first thing that would come to mind. I agree with the person who commented that, basically, it's just not chocolate.
In case you are not familiar with this particular confection, it's a sort of jelly-like substance, flavored with almond extract or rose water, and covered in powdery sugar. So really, it's sugar covered sugar, and it looks something like this photo here. I bought this stuff at the market, where, much to my amusement, it happened to be labeled "Greek Delight." I guess that's fair enough- the Turks conquered Greece for all of those years, and in exchange, the Greeks tried to conquer Turkish candy.
True, it's not really worth forsaking your siblings for, unless your siblings happen to be a real bunch of losers. But honestly, if I'm willing to suspend my belief long to enough to accept that a little boy walked through a closet into a magical land where the wildlife talks, I'm willing to accept that he also liked Turkish Delight better than chocolate.
Also, I think there's a uniquely gross feeling that one acquires from eating too much sugar, and that's sort of how I imagine Edmund feeling after eating all of the witch's candy; just saturated in sugar, but not quite full in any satisfying way. Chocolate can actually fill you up, but Turkish Delight just turns your bloodstream into syrup.

If you're not a fan of the Narnia books, perhaps because you can't overlook all of that Christian allegory, or because you find them a bit old fashioned, I've got another childhood literary reference for you. I grew up loving The Enchanted Forest chronicles, by Patricia Wrede. They were a lot funnier than the Narnia books, and a little more modern (The Princess knew sword fighting and decided to live with the dragons rather than marry the dope who was her betrothed.) The reason I mention these is as follows: in Book One, Dealing With Dragons, the king of the dragons is poisoned when someone slips deadly dragonsbane into his Turkish coffee. I believe one of the characters comments on the poisoning with statement along the lines of "It's easy to poison Turkish coffee. That stuff will take the roof off of your mouth."

Well, Turkish coffee exists in abundance here, but it has been renamed, you guessed it, Greek coffee. And no, it won't actually take the roof off of your mouth, but it is strong. So strong, in fact, that the coffee grounds are right there in your coffee cup, and when you finish, there is a little pile of coffee sludge at the bottom. It gives a whole new meaning to the phrase "cup of mud". Apparently, some people tell fortunes with coffee grounds in the same manner that others read tea leaves. (Like professor Trelawney in the Harry Potter books, which brings my number of children's literature references up to three for this post alone!) I know that's not a very appetizing way of describing it, but actually, it's good stuff. I like it. It's made in a pot called a μπρικι, or a Briki, a word that I know because 'Making Greek Coffee" was a recent lesson in my Greek class. It's then served in a tiny little cup, just about the size of an espresso cup. I don't have a picture right now, but next time I drink some Greek coffee, I'll be sure to bring my camera. And I'll watch out for potential assassins.

Speaking of food, Greece has gorgeous, delicious pomegranates. I have been gorging myself on them, trying to get my fill before they go out of season. They are so good, even though they stain my kitchen counter, sink, and hands a bright reddish color, which of course leads to my hands staining other things, like the handle to my refrigerator and my jeans. But pomegranates are worth it. Persephone ate six pomegranate seeds and had to stay in Hades for six months out of the year. If eating pomegranates requires you to stay in the place that grew them, I will be be in Greece forever and ever. As a matter of fact, it was several days after I started eating pomegranates when I was informed that I am not legally permitted to leave the Schengen states until I get my residence permit. Maybe it's some god or goddess, getting their revenge on me for something or other.