Local Ingenuity, Continental Vision – The Istanbul Chapter of the Gastronomic Crossroads Project

We land in Istanbul with the lingering taste of Madrid still on our lips: memories of the Sapiens workshops run by Madrid Culinary Campus and Universidad Pontificia Comillas team, where we learned to dissect food as culture, chemistry, and community.

That Spanish module is behind us now, and the lessons were learnt; here, at Bahçeşehir University (https://int.bau.edu.tr/), we pivot from theory to practice in the Gastronomic Crossroads Project (GCP), co-funded by Erasmus+ KA220-VET. Our brief is clear: take local Turkish ingredients, let them speak, and draft the outline for the next training, set to unfold in Romania. (Social Food)

Arrival Day – Hearing the Market before Touching the Knife

At dawn, we walk through Beşiktaş Çarşı. No imported vanilla pods or Peruvian quinoa tempt us; the rules insist on proximity: silky eggplants from Bursa, ripe Datça tomatoes, fragrant İzmir oregano, and the grassy olive oil pressed just across the Sea of Marmara. A fishmonger thrusts us a glistening bonito and reminds us that seasonality is the first sustainability lesson.

Day 1 at BAU’s culinary lab

Under the lead of chef Adrian Hădean, the presenters Zeynep Tacer Caba, Kerem İlaslan, and chef Ertuğrul Karakaya opened the session with a slide reading “Ottoman cuisine is local ingenuity writ large.” We nod, recognising the understatement. Palace cooks once bent global trade to their will, yet survived on what the Bosphorus and Anatolia yielded that day. We map flavour networks on whiteboards: wheat-bulgur-bread; dairy-yoghurt-tarhana; lamb-offal-spices. Aprons tied, we turn research into roux. We trade theory for steam and steel. One station kneads simit dough, coaxing sesame aroma to bloom without imported malt powder. Another whips tarator from local walnuts and thick yoghurt, while our group tackles imam bayıldı, layering onion-perfumed olive oil over eggplants until caramel edges form. The rule, nothing imported, forces creativity.  Another team roasts eggplants over open flame for Patlıcan Ezmesi—the smoke on our aprons will linger all day.

Along the line, pastry lovers fold Paçanga Böreği: thin yufka sheets rolled around ribbons of pastırma, grated kaşar cheese, diced tomato, and green pepper. Sealed with beaten egg and quick-fried at 180 °C, they shatter like glass when we test one for seasoning.

Afternoon: the knead that binds

No dish better illustrates slow pedagogy than Çiğ Köfte. The rhythmic pressing of fingers becomes a unison heartbeat; we whisper process notes so future trainees in Romania will feel the same cadence.

 We score each preparation on flavour integrity, historical storytelling, and waste minimisation. The winning marks go to the Böreği team, who repurposed trimmed yufka edges into crispy garnish instead of trash. We jot that tactic for Romania, where old-fashioned pie dough scraps might get the same up-cycle treatment.. Evaluation is communal, not competitive. A tasting grid rates dishes on flavour, waste minimisation, and cultural storytelling. 

Day 2

Morning sunlight slants across the lab as food scientist Dr Kerem İlaslan lays out petri dishes of tarhana cultures bubbling in their micro-climate. We are reminded that some bacteria and molds are invisible creators of new foods; they convert surplus into stored nutrition, a lesson both Turkey and Romania share. We realise that every rule we obeyed in Istanbul: no imports, low waste, history on the plate, can travel without crossing customs.

The lab’s air-con battles Istanbul’s July heat, yet we cook a cold soup first: Ayran Aşı. Yogurt is whisked with icy water until silky, then folded around boiled wheat, chickpeas, and chopped mint. A drizzle of grassy olive oil finishes a bowl as refreshing as sea spray.

Stoves flare for the main attraction—Hünkâr Beğendi, “the Sultan’s Delight.” Cubes of lamb shoulder sear in olive oil; onion, garlic, diced tomatoes, bay leaf, and thyme follow, simmering for over an hour. Two desserts anchor the training’s finale. First, Revani, a lemon-scented semolina cake, second comes Sütlaç, rice pudding so beloved that it has its folklore.

All ideas honour the Istanbul principle: local first, nothing imported, heritage as curriculum.

Why does this matter for Erasmus+ KA220-VET?

The Gastronomic Crossroads Project uses food to knit vocational curricula across borders. Istanbul proved that a zero-import rule does not shrink creativity—it concentrates it. By chronicling exactly what we cooked—Paçanga Böreği, Acılı Ezme, Patlıcan Ezmesi, Çiğ Köfte, Ayran Aşı, Hünkâr Beğendi, Revani, and Sütlaç—we hand Romania a template grounded in fact, not folklore. July’s ingredient logs, waste tallies, and tasting rubrics will become open-source training aids on EPALE, reinforcing the platform’s decade-long mission: transfer wisdom through authentic practice.

We leave BAU’s terrace at sunset, dessert trays empty, notebooks full. The city’s skyline melts into gold behind us, but the lesson is etched in stainless steel: Cook local, think continental, learn together as partners!