The Apricot Thief of Uçhisar

This post is dedicated to Roger Hours, who every summer makes the most glorious apricot jam. If he likes you, he will give you a jar. If he likes you, you are a lucky person indeed.

Pigeon Valley

In the evenings, when the temperature drops from intolerable to pleasant, I often take a walk near Pigeon Valley, specifically to steal apricots. Past Goreme Onyx, a large jewelry store invaded by busloads of tourists, I turn into the driveway of Yemini Restaurant to visit my favorite dog. He's huge. Unlike most sensible people, I am not afraid of this Kangal even though I know they can be dangerous. He must be terribly bored all tied up with little place to run. The men who work at the restaurant are now familiar with me from my frequent visits and sometimes wave at me from a distance. There is a small poodle-like dog who runs about freely. Often, when I'm visiting, she runs for the larger dog, jumping and playfully snapping at his face. Clearly, the Kangal does not like this attention, but patiently stands, completely aware that he could snap the little one like the preverbial twig.

Noble the Kangal

After dog therapy, I follow the dirt road above the valley and walk next to fields of chick peas, squash and other vegetables and through vineyards. Once, I was surprised by a fox who was equally startled by me. He ran across the fields, white tipped tail in the air.

Butterfly on a sunflower.

The outside of the butterfly's wings look like dirt, but when opened
reveal a white-spotted black ground.

Apricots

Before stealing apricots, I check the ground to make sure many have fallen. To my logic, this means no one else is eating them except me and insects. When I find a tree particularly burdened with fruit, I find it difficult not to strip it bare. Many of the apricots are freckled by the sun and would probably be rejected by customers in a supermarket. I've learned not to be prejudiced by these spots, as they are usually sweet and perfectly edible. There is one tree with tiny fruit, slightly larger than gumballs. These are the tastiest. I sample from various trees and fill plastic bags from the market with them to bring back to the store.

Sunset

As the sun begins to set and before heading "home," I make a second visit to the dog. On my way back, I give handfuls of fruit to the various merchants whose stores I pass. They think I'm a bit nuts, but I don't really mind so much.

Here is my recipe for stolen fruit dessert, but you can also use ones that you have procured by honest means.

Use a big pan, the kind used for making spaghetti sauce.

Split the apricots in half and toss the stones on the compost pile.

Cut peaches into smallish pieces and put them in the pan with the apricots.

Squeeze a few oranges into the pan, or use orange juice. Use enough so that the fruit doesn't burn and stick to the bottom, but not so much that you'll end up with orange juice and fruit soup.

Add cinnamon to taste. I like a lot of cinnamon.

Cook on medium heat for about an hour, more if you have the time. The longer it's cooked, the thicker the juice gets.

This can be served warm over really good vanilla ice cream. Please don't waste the dessert on average ice cream. If you do, don't tell me.

If you live in France, you can skip the ice cream and pour creme fraiche over the fruit instead.

You can use other fruits as well. I've made this with apples, pears, and plums in different combinations.