Inspired by Istanbul: Ikat Pattern!

My new ikat pillows

On my recent trip to Istanbul, I visited the Grand Bazaar, one of the largest (and oldest) covered markets in the world. I originally set out to buy jewelry, but I quickly spotted the gorgeous ikat pillows, made of silk and linen. The exotic zig-zag pattern is created through a combination of ancient dyeing and weaving techniques, yet it still has a modern aesthetic that I love. I managed to snag a pair for 90 lira, or about $50. It was a steal: The same Grand Bazaar pillows are sold online for $180 apiece. 

       The gorgeous pattern isn't confined to pillows. A few years back, ikat started showing up on runways, and more recently, it's begun trickling down to the design world, dressing everything from chairs to napkins to plates. While some designers maintain the tribal, natural-dye look of old-school ikat, others are experimenting with bolder, modern iterations of it. This new wave of ikat is both colorful and contemporary—the perfect way to add punch to your wardrobe or home.

                 

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Indulging in Istanbul: Turkish Delights

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Indulging in Istanbul: Turkish Delights!

Room-service Turkish delight, courtesy of the Four Seasons.

Ever since I read The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe as a kid, I've been intrigued by Turkish delight. In the book, the White Witch enchants the little boy, Edmund, with the treat, so I've always imagined it as being seductively sweet and insanely decadent. After my arrival in Istanbul last week, I didn't have to wait long to try it—as soon as I checked in at my hotel, the desk clerk presented me with a silver platter of the stuff.

A Turkish sweetshop

       What I discovered: Turkish delight is nothing more than a glorified gummy bear. A local baker confirmed my suspicions—she said it consists of cornstarch, sugar, fruit puree, and water, simply melted down and coated with sugar. Not exactly decadent. In fact, the most exciting part of my Turkish delight experience was smuggling it through customs. Apparently, drug dealers coat the candy with cocaine instead of sugar, so it's often confiscated.

Turkish delight display @ the sweetshop

       The sweeter side of Turkey didn't fail me entirely, though. The baklava, for one, was to die for. And I discovered sekerpare, or "sugar bit"—little pastry balls, drenched in syrup and often coated in poppy seeds. (This was my personal favorite). Then there was kabak tatlisi, an odd but tasty poached pumpkin dessert, and badem tatlisi, an almond cake moistened with syrup. All of these treats were bite-sized, and they were collectively referred to as Turkish delights, though they weren't all gelatinous. Delightful, indeed.

       The best part: Each day, a different plate of sweets was left waiting in my hotel room. On the first day, it was chocolate-covered hazelnuts, which I promptly inhaled. Then, it was a baklava variety plate—honey, pistachio, and chocolate—that sustained me after a lunch consisting entirely of fish (which I hate). And, the last day, I received more Turkish delight. Re-gifting victim, to be determined.

Baklava variety plate

Dessert tray @ the Four Seasons Bosphorus

Armut tatlisi: Poached pears with bourbon

Irmik tatlisi: Milky semolina dessert

Dessert buffet @ the Four Seasons

The gooey, delicious middle

Almond cake, poached pumpkin, & poppy seed sekerpare