Tandoor
A clay oven standing like a well of fire: bread slaps the wall, and meat takes the perfume of the pit.
The pots, disks, and ovens that make Turkish food sound like itself — not a substitute skillet with the same recipe printed on top.
A cuisine is a shape of fire as much as a spice drawer. These are the vessels this kitchen still cooks in — the hearths of the country, with an Amazon search if you want to bring one home.
Back to Turkish cooking · Open the Turkish pantry · All cookware
A clay oven standing like a well of fire: bread slaps the wall, and meat takes the perfume of the pit.
A heavy pot with a tight lid: the one the 30 books reach for when they do not name a country-specific hearth.
A bowl and a weight: salsa, pesto, and spice pastes that still taste of the stone they were born in.
A small copper pot with a long handle: coffee boiled with the grounds until the foam is the whole point.
A slightly concave iron disk: roti, paratha, and the dry heat that makes a bread puff instead of toast.
A lidded clay casserole: Turkish vegetables and meat that come to the table still bubbling.
A wide, rounded iron pot: pilaf and festival stews cooked over an open fire.
A stacked double teapot: strong brew below, hot water above, and tea poured to taste.
A low charcoal brazier: skewers and bread that cook over a rectangular bed of coals.
A self-boiling urn: tea concentrate kept hot while a whole afternoon pours from the same fire.
A convex metal griddle: markook and gözleme baked on a dome over fire.
The spices, mixes, and hearths that belong to Turkish cooking — then the people around them, and the kitchens still joining the table.
Open the Turkish pantry Open Turkish cookware The Turkish table Host a Turkish night Join the community