National dishes of our favorite holiday destinations, part 2: eggplant stew from Turkey

Turkish cuisine is loud, colorful, and full of spice – and at the same time full of quiet stories. It thrives on regional diversity, centuries-old traditions, and recipes based less on exact measurements than on intuition, experience, and memory. Between fragrant spices, grilled vegetables, slow-cooked dishes, and countless mezze, it always tells a story of community. Because Turkish cuisine is not just about eating, but about coming together.

One dish that embodies this attitude particularly well is the Anatolian eggplant stew: braised eggplants, tomatoes, peppers, garlic, and plenty of olive oil merge into a seemingly simple yet characterful dish. Related to classics such as İmam bayıldı, it stands as a representative of Turkish cuisine – grounded and aromatic. For chef Elif Oskan, this dish is more than a classic. It is memory, origin, and identity. ​“Turkish cuisine, for me, is a feeling of belonging,” she says. It does not begin on the plate, but at the table – where ​“people come together, where they talk, laugh, and sometimes argue.”

Elif Oskan is considered one of the most exciting voices in modern Anatolian cuisine. The Turkish-Swiss chef was born in 1990 in Southeast Anatolia, came to Switzerland as a baby, and grew up in Zurich. Early on, she was shaped by her mother’s home cooking – an influence that still defines her cuisine today. After working in renowned restaurants, including the three-Michelin-star restaurant The Fat Duck in England, she developed her own style between tradition and contemporary gastronomy. Together with Markus Stöckle, she now shapes Zurich’s culinary scene. Their restaurant Gül has been awarded 15 GaultMillau points as well as a Bib Gourmand and stands for modern Anatolian cuisine.

Oskan’s cuisine moves between two worlds: the Anatolian roots of her family and her life in Zurich. For her, this tension is not a contradiction but a creative driver. ​“My cuisine is created precisely in between,” she says. It is not about nostalgia, but about evolution. During her time in London, she began to consciously engage with her culinary roots. ​“I realized that this cuisine is not something I simply inherit, but something I develop further.” From then on, she cooked more consciously – not only from memory, but from her own decision.

The eggplant stew has accompanied Oskan since her childhood. A particularly defining moment took place in June 2012 in London, in the kitchen of her aunt Songül. ​“I still remember the day she served it to me,” she recalls. What sounds like a simple family story became a turning point. The stew marked the transition from memory to her own culinary voice. ​“It was the first Anatolian dish I later cooked and served myself – no longer just as the daughter of Turkish immigrants, but as a chef with her own voice.” The stew became a culinary anchor: unpretentious, without staging – and precisely for that reason moving.

At a time when cuisines are often defined by spectacular signature dishes, an eggplant stew seems almost understated. No luxury product, no show. That is exactly what makes it so meaningful for Oskan. ​“It’s not a show dish. It’s quiet, deep, and honest.” Its strength lies in simplicity: eggplants, tomatoes, oil – little more is needed. Yet precisely this reduction requires precision. ​“It is a dish that needs time – and gives time.” Authenticity here emerges through patience. The eggplant must slowly braise, lose its bitterness, and develop its creamy texture. ​“It’s all about patience.”

Many of the best dishes are not created in professional kitchens, but in private ones – where cooking happens without recipes. For Oskan, these places are the most important source of inspiration. ​“That’s where dishes are created not for an audience, but for family and everyday life.” This honesty also shapes her approach to tradition. With the eggplant stew, she deliberately stays close to the original. She changes little – perhaps technique, precision, or structure, but never the character. ​“It doesn’t need interpretation, but respect.”

Turkish cuisine is often reduced to a few classics: kebab, baklava, mezze. Much else remains in the shadows. Oskan sees this as a clear underestimation. ​“The depth, diversity, and regionality of this cuisine are not widely understood.” Why is it rarely perceived as fine cuisine? ​“Because it is rarely told that way – even though it has long possessed this complexity.” Its grounded nature is precisely its strength: ​“It is close to life. And that is where its power lies.”

If Elif Oskan had to describe Turkish cuisine in three words, they would be: honest, deep, and connected. And perhaps that also best describes the eggplant stew: a dish without grand gestures, but full of feeling. One that does not try to impress – and precisely for that reason stays with you.

Ingredients:

• 2 kg eggplants
• 16 g salt
• sunflower oil for frying
• 350 g onions
• 130 g olive oil
• 1.3 kg tomatoes
• 13 g pul biber
• 3 g ground cumin
• 3 g freshly ground black pepper

Preparation:

Cut the eggplants in half and then into quarters lengthwise, salt them, and let them rest for about 20 minutes. Pat the eggplants dry and deep-fry them in hot sunflower oil (approx. 180 °C) until golden. Let them drain. Preheat the oven to 160 °C. Dice the onions and sauté them in olive oil until translucent. Blanch the tomatoes, peel them, chop them, and add them to the onions. Simmer for 15 minutes. Add the spices and simmer for another 15 minutes. Place the eggplants in a baking dish and spread the tomato sauce over them. Cover with foil and bake in the oven for about 1 hour. Remove from the oven and serve.

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