Introduction to Bitters

Human beings come into the world hating bitter tastes. The reason, it is said, is that bitterness is often associated with poison, and our bodies have evolved a reflexive aversion to it. In fact, when our stomach senses a bitter flavor, it immediately reacts — speeding up digestion in an effort to expel the substance as quickly as possible. That’s why bitter foods are actually great appetite stimulants.

I don’t quite remember my very first bitter experience, but it probably goes back to the days when we raided the fava bean fields in our neighborhood. We used to eat so many raw fava beans that we sometimes ended up throwing up. Back then, we blamed it on overeating — but much later, I learned that raw fava beans actually contain high levels of toxins.

Turkey might well be the world leader when it comes to eating unripe fruits and vegetables. Green tomatoes, green plums, young almonds, and green chickpeas — all are beloved snacks. European pragmatism dictates that every product should be consumed at its peak ripeness: you never cut a melon before it’s fully sweet. In Turkey, on the other hand, we make kelek turşusu — pickles from tiny, unripe melons — and for those who have the palate for it, it’s an incredible flavor.

Unripe produce naturally brings acidity, but bitterness is often one of its side notes. When you bite into a young almond — called çağla in Turkish — you can tell that the almond kernel inside isn’t yet mature but still edible. That kernel has an intense bitterness, and it was probably one of the main reasons my love for bitter flavors began to mature. The same goes for apricot kernels: even when ripe, they retain a noticeable bitterness, but when unripe, it’s even stronger.

In the Adana region, there’s also a wild citrus fruit that resembles an orange — turunç (Citrus aurantium). Like all citrus, it’s sour, but it’s even more bitter than grapefruit. Its marmalade is famous, and it’s often served alongside kebabs. It’s even more aggressive in bitterness than chinotto, another bitter citrus widely used in Sicily and popular in Italian soft drinks.

And then there’s perhaps my biggest childhood “bitter” memory — Merci chocolates. In the 1980s, imported chocolates were rare in Turkey due to import restrictions, so we only had local brands. But every summer, our relatives visiting from Germany brought us all kinds of chocolates as gifts. The most impressive among them was Merci, offering twelve different flavors — coffee, hazelnut, dark chocolate, cherry. Yet the one that left the deepest mark on me was the marzipan-filled piece. Out of a box of 24, there were only two marzipan ones — so my sister and I would get one each.

That was the taste that made me truly fall in love with bitterness — the meeting point of bitter and sweet. Just like in Campari: sugar softens the sharpness of bitterness, while bitterness balances the heaviness of sweetness.