Karagöz recently attempted to stir the pot with me, by pointing out that M. is heavily involved in a “bromance” with another Turkish-American guy. I guess Karagöz is a little homophobic, but I’m not really clear on that. Maybe Karagöz is just acculturating to the worst of American norms. I’m all for bromances, they are a lovely thing. Ain’t no nicer thing than seeing bromance buddies walking down Istiklal Caddesi hand in hand or arm in arm, after all. As I make this point, I can see Yehuda Rebbe and Hacivad Bey nodding at me in approval, as they walk arm in arm back to the dining room to finish a debate on some aspect of Jewish-Islamic relations.
But back to this bromance, which is taking place on American turf – and it is distinctly fıstıklı…the Turkish word for “nutty” in the best possible sense. Finding this particular Turkish-American friend and his partner has made for an absolutely wonderful addition to our life.
M. and S., both somewhat eccentric artists, can relate to one another on distinctly Turkish-American matters among many other things. Meanwhile, S.’s partner and I can also relate on matters unique to being the American in a Turkish-American relationship…among many other things.
It’s nutty and funny and special, this couple friendship is, and we love it that way.
But back to nuts – which have made another appearance in our cross-cultural marital road trip as of late. This most recent episode with nuts relates to the fact that out of the clear blue yonder, M. has become obsessed with peanut butter.
This may sound like no great revelation, but you must realize that after years of listening to M. decrying “it” as “food?” fit only for the lowliest of beasts, I’m pretty shocked.
Really, in the 11 years I have known him, I have never heard him do less than protest against the lowly peanut with vim and vigor – usually in a heated tone with pointing fingers all akimbo.
“Turks,” he says loudly, “DO NOT eat or like peanut butter!”
Now, if you know M., you will know that he rants and rails about MANY things. Some would argue that’s just the Turkish body language/voice volume, and I might agree) – but really – peanut butter is UP THERE in the top three of “bad things to rant and rail about.” It could be worse, I know.
And that’s where the bromance comes into the picture. All it took was S. showing up to a dinner party with his favorite Haagen Daaz chocolate and peanut butter ice cream, and the battle against peanut butter was magically over. No more protests over the presence of peanut butter on the shopping list – and even an occasional errant spoonful of the stuff making way into the mouth of the Turkish part of this couple!
Now, M. just says “I never knew it could be so good!” And that’s all she wrote on peanut butter.
Let’s not even get into kokorecç*, ok? Karagöz promises that he will indeed get into it. Let’s hope that’s a few days away, eh?
*Kokorecç, (“koh-kohr-etch”) sounds all to similar to cockroach…but it is actually intestines grilled on a spit, sliced off en masse and slammed in between two pieces of bread. It is street food extraordinaire. M claims that it “tastes better” if the intestines are, ahem, “not completely clean.”