In 2002, inspired by the cuisine and the history, I decided to do an English teaching stint in Izmir, Turkey. I had no idea what I was getting into but those four months ended up defining the rest of my life as well as the kind of person I wanted to become.

I was tremendously humbled by the generosity and kindnesses bestowed upon me by those in my community. I travelled a lot through the country, I learned how to teach by being open to the lessons my students shared with me. And I ate incredibly well. I walked an average of four miles each day and became an accidental vegetarian that summer. I was in Turkey from May through August, and in the temperatures that I was in…well, you don’t hunger for meat. Watermelon. Tomatoes. Lemon dondurma. Yes. Sticky rolls filled with tahini was the heaviest I’d go (OMG, I miss that bakery!). And eggplant.

My favorite color is a deep, rich purple, and I was drawn to this vegetable for that reason alone. I grew up in a family of meat-and-potatoes origin. I’d eaten my first green asparagus when I was 16, and immediately turned to my parents and scolded them for never having introduced me to it earlier in my life. Peas-and-carrots were about as exotic as my dad ever wanted it. My mom loved sweet potatoes; I didn’t until I was much older (and now can’t imagine not having them in my diet)! All in all, in 2002 eggplant was exotic for me. I had no idea what to do with it.

With incredible luck, I befriended a wonderful, young chef during my stay in Turkey. He taught me how to cook eggplant the right way (“Just when you think it’s done, keep cooking it a while longer.”). Eggplant became my meat substitute because it takes on all the flavors of your dish, and Turkish herbs and spices leave no room for missing the meat.

My absolutely favorite recipe is Imam Biyaldi, which means, “the imam fainted”. From the flavors or how much olive oil is used is debatable. I have a non-glazed clay pot that I would protect with my life. I slice zucchini and eggplant (after prepping them) lengthwise, fry each piece until they are limp when I pick them up with tongs, and layer them with a simple but flavorful tomato sauce in between. I bake it in that clay pot in the oven. Cilantro or dill or parsley and a squeeze of lemon juice top it off, and if you want something heartier, you can drizzle chopped feta (or Turkish white cheese). If you really, really, really want the meat, then prepare that tomato sauce with quality lamb mince.

Dishes become favorites not only because they taste amazing but because there are great memories connected to them. This dish has become a staple in our summer diet, but one day I made this for dear friends of ours. My husband and I gave them a “night off”. We arrived at their house and took over their two young boys. They went to our (at that time, childless) house, where we’d made our balcony and dining room cozy and romantic. Candlelight. Flowers. A great view. And imam biyaldi waiting for them, warm in the oven. They raved about that night for years afterwards, and always loved it when I dished up the stew at a get-together.

Want to try? You can download the recipe here! It’s from a recipe book I wrote for friends and family, so there are loads of chatty references.