Whether you’ve publicly articulated it or not, everyone’s got a ‘death row dish’ in the back of their minds. Often referred to as a ‘last meal’, this is essentially the dish you’d request should you ever find yourself in an unhappy situation warranting a cruel and unusual planned death.
Initially, you’d think the ‘last meal’ would be something extravagant – abalone dipped in gold flakes or a lobster frittata (Sydney institution famous has certainly got my vote if we’re going down this road) – but the most requested dishes from death-row inmates are actually comfort foods. A study by found a keen focus on fried chicken, fries and burgers in particular.
Maybe it’s because I’m morbid, but I’ve always maintained my death-row dish would be dolma and not just any old dolma (because there are myriad ways you can stuff a vegetable), but yaprak sarmasi or stuffed grape leaves. Again, not the zeytinyağlı (olive oil) vegetarian version with raisins, but the thick, meaty kind drowned in garlic yoghurt. In a perfect world, my dad would be the one making the dish because not only does that put the comfort in comfort food (the familiar spices and herbs don’t hurt either), but nobody makes them like him.
When I was a child, some of my best memories involve watching my dad roll the vine leaves we’d earlier collected from our back garden (best pictured to the sound of horse racing which was always blaring in the background). Well over six foot, he has the hands of a giant so the dolma themselves would be supersized and overstuffed so that five of them could reasonably constitute a meal. “You’re supposed to roll them tighter!” my mum would scream from behind her sewing machine. “They’re going to unravel while you cook them!” Dad would simply grin at me as he made them even bigger. Challenge accepted.
Yoghurt and stuffed vine leaves are an appealing combination.
I’ve always maintained my death-row dish would be dolma and not just any old dolma (because there are myriad ways you can stuff a vegetable), but yaprak sarmasi or stuffed grape leaves.
When your father is the master of making yaprak sarmasi, you are set up for a lifetime of olive-hued disappointments; no other dolma can even get close to the magic you can enjoy in your own home. Clearly, rather than relying on other people’s kitchens – and nimble hands capable of making tight and tiny versions – I was going to have to learn to make it dad’s way myself. Dad, of course, was only too happy to hand over the hours of rolling duties to the next generation.
Now that I’ve spent the last 20 years making dad’s dolma, here’s what I know:
Good things come in leafy packages. Source: Brett Stevens
- The kind of vine leaves you use is very important. If you buy them caked in salt from a deli or encased in packets of brine from a supermarket, you will need to wash and soak them considerably to get most of that salt off. Know someone with grape vines in their yard? Time to “assist” with some well-timed gardening work.
- The bigger, the better. Use the biggest leaves first and be generous with the filling (consisting of beef mince, rice, onions, chopped tomato, dill and parsley. Wrap them as tightly as you can, but not at the expense of the filling.
- Once the dolma is all laid out, placing sliced lemon pieces across the top layer makes the dish juicier and adds zing to the final product. Don’t forget to place a small plate or bowl on top of the dolma to weigh them down before cooking.
- Yoghurt without garlic is a great shame. Add enough that your paste could be characterised as ‘chunky’.
Now you’re ready to enjoy your meal to the soothing sounds of your loved ones disapproving of your life choices. Afiyet olsun!
