Smell and taste of Easter

When Easter comes, I cannot refrain myself writing about the magnetic bakery aromas in Istanbul. These days, Istanbul’s pastry shops are bursting with unbelievably wonderful aromas. Easter bread, namely “Paskalya Çöreği” in Turkish, is the source of that alluring smell, with its unmistaken combination of yeasty dough flavored with secret ingredients that mark the taste of the Easter bread in Türkiye. “Paskalya” is the Turkish word for Easter, and “Çörek” is a generic name given to special breads, rolls, and buns, mostly sweet, or sometimes savory, but often spiked with spices or special flavors. Yet, despite its name associated with Easter, this uniquely Turkish braided sweet bread is enjoyed all year round, by Christians and non-Christians alike, and the ingredients that give it its special tang have for centuries been a mainstay of Turkish cuisine.

The reason for the popularity of Paskalya çöreği is first, it is attractive and has an appealing look. It is braided, plump in the belly, pointed at ends, has a shiny top that comes from a generous egg wash and is usually sprinkled with white slivers of almonds. Besides the good looks, it’s the taste. Not overly sweet, it has that yeasty doughy taste that is ultimately satisfying, plus it has a pleasant smell that attracts you. The secret of this smell comes from two crucial ingredients that give Paskalya Çöreği its distinctive taste. These are “mahlep” and “sakız” both being a legacy of Ottoman times. These two flavors are not found in the world cuisines, but only in former Ottoman territory, in the Balkans and Middle Eastern geography, in certain countries in the Middle East such as Syria, Lebanon, or in the Balkans such as Greece.

So, let’s see what these mystic ingredients are: Those two crucial items are mahlep, mahaleb in English, and sakız, known as gum mastic in English. In Easter time, the dose of mastic in the bread seems to be augmented, people queue in front of certain old-school pastries intoxicated by the combined odors of yeasty baked dough spiked by mastic, backed with the hidden aroma of mahaleb. Interestingly, these two special tastes both come from wild plants, mahlep from wild cherry and mastic from wild pistachio.

We use mastic in a variety of ways, not only in Easter bread in a plethora of baked goods, especially in “sakızlı kurabiye” that is mastic cookies and biscuits, but also in numerous sweets, especially in dairy milky desserts. The most popular are “sakızlı muhallebi” (mastic milk pudding) or the “sakızlı fırın sütlaç” baked mastic rice pudding, and of course the ubiquitous stretchy mastic ice cream “sakızlı dondurma” which has a very special place in the Turkish palate. Mostly we identify mastic aroma more with milky flavors. Mahlep, on the other hand, is usually used in baked goods. They are even mixes with mahlep sold in single-use sachets as if vanilla, or baking powder, just to put in home-baked goods, especially for savory rolls and buns. Mahlep is also the key taste of “Kandil Simidi,” the much-popular ring-shaped savory simit variety specially made for the five holy illuminated nights in the Islamic calendar.

Subtly bitter

Mahlep is commonly thought of as a spice, but it isn’t. Rather, it’s a minuscule, almond-shaped kernel found inside the pits of wild cherries. In fact, the mahaleb tree (Prunus mahaleb) is the mother of all cherries, native to Anatolia and considered as the ancestor of all cherry varieties in the world. The word mahaleb may derive from the Semitic root halab (milk), possibly linking it to Aleppo, a city renowned for cherry-based dishes. The mahaleb tree is also called the İdris Ağacı (Tree of Idris) in Anatolia, referring to the Islamic prophet identified with Enoch.

Measuring about five millimeters in length, these kernels are soft in texture and of a brownish-ivory color. Mahlep lends a certain bitterness to the dough it is used in, not unlike bitter almond—albeit much less pronounced. Subtle, but instantly recognizable to those familiar with it, mahlep also imbues dough with an appealing chewiness, while its inherent bitterness serves to accentuate the taste of whatever dish it is applied to. Most stone fruits or drupes—cherries, apricots, and peaches—contain such almond-like kernels, in which traces of cyanide are present. This endows them with a degree of bitterness, which in some cases can be overpowering. Mahlep’s bitterness derives mainly from coumarin, an organic compound also found in cinnamon and tonka beans, giving it its distinctive taste. A mere teaspoonful is usually enough to transform baked goods into something delectable.

The joy of chewing

Sakız, on the other hand, is also a word used for chewing gum in Turkish. Late Latin mastichum, from Greek mastikhe, is probably related to masasthai meaning to chew, hence the word, masticate, or to chew. Mastic mostly comes from the Greek island of Chios. The mastic tree is actually a wild pistachio tree. When the bark of the mastic tree is incised, it exudes gumdrops that look like teardrops. These aromatic drops are the resin droplets of the tree. Therefore, the hard-to-describe aroma of mastic is resinous, and as the tree is from the cashew family with close lineage to pistachios, it imparts a highly addictive taste to wherever it is used. Mastic is mostly collected on the island of Chios, sorted by size and quality, and marketed all over the world. We buy most of our mastic from Chios, traditionally during the Ottoman period, all the revenues of Chios belonged directly to the Hürrem Sultan, the mighty Queen Mother. That is why mastic always came to the Ottoman court kitchens. Now there are efforts to revive its cultivation in Çeşme, the town on the Turkish coast just across Chios, almost at swimming distance from the island. When I was little, I remember chewing mastic instead of chewing gum. They used to sell three little pieces of chickpea-sized mastic in long, thin paper wrappers, and on one end of this wrapper was beeswax wrapped in a colorful tin foil. You would chew the gum and the beeswax together in your mouth. As you chewed, it would first stick to your teeth, and then eventually it would turn to a chewable form. What joy, with an incredible taste! That is why, we are still very fond of this magical duo: Sakız and mahlep work wonders, whether Easter or not, they are nostalgic in all ways.