We all have ways of lifting our spirits.
We know when we’re in the right place—among people we can talk to freely, honestly, and with joy.
Today was about PASTRAMA.
Not just food—a ritual, a reminder, a homecoming.
Pastrama is preserved lamb meat, barbecued slow and smoky until it melts in your mouth.
You eat it with polenta and garlic, and sip good wine. And if you’re truly blessed, a taraf plays—just for you.
And yes, it’s cultural.
The Balkans eat it. Turks eat it. Arabs eat it.
It’s a shared treasure across borders, languages, and generations.
And today—I needed it. Not for hunger, but for healing.
Pastrama is my medicine for the soul, and the way I show love to my dear ones.
But to make it, you need the real thing:
Fresh lamb or goat steaks—no bones, just clean, fine cuts.
Enter: Mission Impossible
In the Western world, it’s nearly impossible.
Most meat shops sell bones with a little meat, but not real steaks.
So I remembered something: I still know a couple Habibis, lol.
And just like that, my new life goal today became:
Track down the Habibis and find fresh lamb or goat.
Steaks only. No bones. No shortcuts.
Was it successful?
Not quite.
But oh… it was beautiful.
Back to the Old World
Talking with the Habibis again felt like home.
No, I didn’t buy perfume (though one did smell like Allah’s garden in heaven—seriously, that scent was another level).
And no, I didn’t find the right meat cuts.
Some stores had closed.
Some old shopkeepers had passed away.
Their children had moved on.
And even if I don’t feel old… I guess I am.
Because I miss those old-school Habibis.
The ones who knew the art of negotiation. The ones who’d say:
“Güzelim, we don’t have it now, but for you? We order some. Come tomorrow.”
I miss the world where you bargain with a smile.
Where mangoes are sweet, but the conversations are sweeter.
Where someone says, “Drink tea. Sit. You’re home.”
Mango Is Not Pastrama
Yes, I came home with mangoes.
But mango is not pastrama.
Mango doesn’t hug your soul the same way.
And yet… today brought me something else: connections.
That feeling of community. Of joy. Of speaking your language, even in a foreign place.
The World We Need to Protect
These cultures, these flavors, these people—we need to protect this world.
Not everything should be perfect, uniform, and by rules.
There is beauty in the spice, the mess, the laughter, the güzelim.
So, my dear readers:
If you know where I can buy fresh lamb/goat steaks—no bones—for my pastrama,
send me a message.
Because this is more than food.
It’s memory. It’s love. It’s home.
And I’m still looking.
— Sevgilim 😄