Over forty years ago, I was sitting in a garden restaurant by the Aegean Sea in the small of town of Alanya in Turkey. It was then an unspoiled, sleepy place, very different from the over-built tourist trap it is today. I had eaten and was sipping a coffee when I saw a waiter go to the edge of the garden, lift a lid from the ground and pull out what seemed like a tiffin carrier.

In my halting, limited Turkish, I asked what it was. Instead of trying to explain, he pulled off the lid of one of the containers; inside was a delicious looking meat and vegetable stew, gently steaming with the fragrance of fresh ingredients that had simmered together for a long time. In all my time in Turkey, I had never seen a guvec (pronounced ‘guvech’), so I asked for one, although I had already eaten some delicious kebabs and a salad. The stew was light and flavourful.

Years later, I made the dish myself, and discovered how simple it was. While the recipe here is from Mehmet Yazgan’s Specialities of Turkish Cuisine, feel free to improvise. I certainly do. Turks spice their dishes very lightly and the classic guvec contains only salt and garlic. Do try and get a glazed clay pot with a lid as I find the slightly earthy flavour enhances the dish.

With a kilo of diced lamb or mutton, you will need: 4 tablespoons of olive oil; 15 small onions, or 3 large ones, quartered; 150 grams of beans; one large aubergine; 2 medium potatoes; 2 medium carrots; 2 large tomatoes; 50 grams okra; 2 large green peppers; ½ tablespoon of sugar; a glass of water; 5 garlic cloves; and salt to taste.

Get a taste of some of the dishes that the Sultans of the Ottoman Empire relished

Slice the tomatoes; head and tail the beans and cut them in two lengthwise; cube the carrots and the aubergines; quarter the onions; de-seed the peppers and quarter them; peel and cube the potatoes; chop the okra; and peel the garlic. Put in the meat into a large casserole, put one third of the tomatoes, then the green beans, green peppers, garlic, potatoes, and then the next one third of the tomatoes. Add the sugar, salt and oil, and then the rest of the tomatoes. Finally, pour in the water, cover the dish and place it in a moderately hot oven. Cook for an hour and a half, or until the meat and potatoes are done. Place the casserole on the table and serve.

As you see, there are no spices used at all, so the dish doesn’t really do much for the desi palate. I lightly fry some flaked red chilli and cumin seeds, and pour them over the meat and vegetables before putting the casserole into the oven to give the dish a little zing.

In my last column, I mentioned a dish prepared by the fictional detective Yashim in Ottoman Istanbul. Space prevented me from expanding on the wonders of Turkish cuisine, one of the greatest in the world. Sadly, it is not possible to taste many of the dishes the Sultans once ate. But to gain an idea of how important good food was to the Ottomans, consider the kitchens at Topkapi Palace. An internal street was made exclusively for the royal kitchens which were housed in 10 domed buildings with 20 huge chimneys. The establishment was manned by 800 cooks and their assistants, and could serve 6,000 meals a day. After the food for the Sultan was prepared, it was first tasted by the ‘Chesnidjibashi’ who checked both for flavour and poison.

As the Ottoman Empire spread, culinary influences from Jerusalem, Georgia, Greece, the Fertile Crescent and the Balkans were introduced in Istanbul. Talented chefs from across the vast empire made their way to the imperial capital. Now, ex-colonies claim some Turkish dishes as their own, but it is difficult to say exactly where their true origins lie.

Although the Lebanese now claim the doner kebab, the best one I have ever had was in Ankara in 1963 when as a teenaged student, I was introduced to the Yourtoglu doner kebab; this consisted of a layer of pide, or naan at the bottom of the plate, covered with yoghurt and tomato sauce, and topped with slices of doner kebab. At the side was a long green pepper, slightly charred. After all those years, I can still recall the tangy sauce. Bliss.

Published in Dawn, Sunday Magazine, November 30th, 2014