If you are vegan, dairy-free, allergic to wheat, or fearful of artery clogging foods beware of the Black Sea Turks. They will literally kill you with their food.
We didn’t choose to venture out to the mountainous regions of North East Turkey (near the Georgian border) for the food, but were pleasantly surprised to find these people were as proud of their hardy food as they were of their ancient culture.
I'm happy to say I eat pretty much anything on offer. I can’t pretend I love each item but I’ll try it. You never know when you're going to stumble across a new favourite. In Pokut, my new found treasure would turn out to be a hard, raw, cow’s dairy cheese eaten with Raki. I think the cheese's charm had something to do with the setting. If I ate it anywhere else I'm not sure it would be so good.
Raw, cow's cheese served best with Raki. Crumbly, salty goodness.
We drove from the mountain town Çamlıhemşin to 2500 metres above sea level to live with a traditional family. Ahmet, his wife and relatives opened up their 200 year old house Plato Da' Mola and treated us like one of their own. Their dreamlike village above the clouds was undoubtedly the biggest surprise of our trip. Pokut is an elevated beauty and reminded me of parts of Switzerland, Pakistan, Canada and China all rolled into an otherworldly vision. I pinched myself for believing in the man with a twinkle. He knows how to follow his nose.
A cheese-laden breakfast mountain styles. Everything, except for the olives and glass jars has been made by hand. These ladies have mad skillz.
The days are long and chilly willy. It's an ideal climate for homemade woolen socks.
Time for a squidge
Ahmet has done this before.
Tea time in the mountains is not a meager affair. Their rich, butter-laden pastries mean business.
The view between the houses. A storm is brewing ahead.
Alfie runs most of the time, especially when there's a chance of thunderstorms.
Plotting their escape.
The view of the village above. No one home for another month. How remarkable it feels to be alone in the mountains.
Waiting out the storm with our trusty guard Aris.
Magnificent beauty that's all I can say. The storm lifts.
As we went out for a hike we were handed a light snack of slabs of raw butter on freshly baked bread.
Time for another squidge.
Our trek starts here. The complaining begins.
Ahmet stops to pick some fresh rhododendrons for Sophia. He's got our flower girl pegged.
Walking the hills above Pokut. The complaining is still going strong.
Three year old wins. Ahmet picks up our complainer and carries on. Alfie doesn't drop his latest divining rod.
The wild bunch huffing cedar fumes from the fire.
Just fajondilizing with sticks and water. Alfie was at this for what seemed like hours.
Whenever I see moss I'm driven to wear a bulky mustache.
Sophia made her way into the kitchen before each meal, trying to find some way to participate.
The kitchen where it all happens.
Hardy hands grow healthy vegetables. This is swiss chard with balls. We had it fried in copious amounts of olive oil.
Pink room for a pink girl. We all slept piled into this cosy room.
A room with a view.
Freshly showered kidlets, popping out of their bedroom perch.
Charlie's making a new sign for Ahmet. It's very black-fly buggy outside, but he's not deterred.
Houses in the sky. Most of the houses in Pokut have been abandoned as a result of feuding families. Most are part-owned by 20 families! The result is that no one takes ownership or responsibility. The houses fall into disrepair and the way of life is slowly disintegrating. Charlie was devastated at the prospect of such abodes going unloved.
If the world ends tomorrow (and I do get my zombie apocalypse) I want Ahmet and his wife to be right next to me. They are true survivors.
Pokut you are one remarkable haven. Here's looking at you.
This memory is seared into my cortex.