Deep Unwind: Baklava in Istanbul 🕌

Deep Unwind: Baklava in Istanbul 🕌

Some places invite you to slow down ...

In this Deep Unwind, you'll wander the ancient streets of Istanbul, where Europe meets Asia, and centuries of history unfold around every corner. As the scents of Turkish coffee, sesame bread, and roasted pistachios drift through the air, you'll discover a small neighborhood bakery where time seems to move at a gentler pace.

There, an experienced baker patiently creates one of the world's most beloved desserts: baklava. Layer by delicate layer, sheet by paper-thin sheet, you'll watch a centuries-old tradition take place. The rhythmic movements of the baker, the quiet sound of pastry being buttered, and the warmth of the bakery become a meditation in themselves, inviting you to unwind.

This Unwind includes:

Guided hypnosis, deep relaxation, Istanbul, baklava, Turkish baking, pastry making, guided visualization, travel meditation, nervous system regulation, parasympathetic relaxation, mindfulness, food imagery, and peaceful relaxation.

Transcript

SPEAKER_01 0:01

Hi everybody, this is Jessica, and welcome back to Unwind, a podcast where we come home to ourselves, explore relaxation, and ask the question what do we find when we unwind. I hope that question has been working on you. I know it's been working on me. Thank you all for being here. Thank you for making this pivot with me to unwind. I really appreciate it. Um, I've gotten some shout-outs on Spotify. I just want to mention some people who have reached out. Maris Rose. Hello, Maris, Irish Rose. On the same page, right next to each other. Misty Gus. Someone named Rising One, Victoria B, Emily Nicole, and Carrie Bell. Those are just a few of the people who've made comments on Spotify. Thank you so much for listening. Thanks everybody for rating the show, giving reviews, sending me feedback, episode ideas. Come join us at Patreon, sort of behind the scenes where you get to see the world that creates unwind. And we can come together and talk about it. Okay. Tonight. Unwind in Istanbul. I need to spend one day of my life in Istanbul. And well, to be honest, I so didn't want to be there. You see, I was flying to Cairo, and I was taking Turkish airlines. And at the time, Turkish Airlines conveniently flew from the East Coast to Cairo via Istanbul. In fact, we landed after a sleepless night at the Istanbul Airport at like eight o'clock in the morning, and didn't fly out to Cairo until about eight o'clock at night. So you had the choice of either spending the whole day at the airport, which by the way was very nice, or being busted into the city. Now, this was a long time ago. I was younger, sort of nervous about spending a day alone in a foreign city where I didn't speak the language in a part of the world I'd never really been in. I was going to meet a friend in Cairo who knew the ropes. And uh, you know, I just hadn't bargained for a day alone. So let's fast forward. My day in Istanbul turned out to be one of the most memorable days of my life. And it just unfurled like a beautiful rug, a Turkish rug. And that unfurling of such a wonderful day was due, in fact, to some extremely kind rug merchants. And yes, I bought a rug, and it lies on my bedroom floor to this day. And yeah, the more cynical among you might think that my purchasing of the rug was why those rug merchants took me to see the blue moth and the catacombs. Why they took me out to try Shisha, and why we ended up having a very delicious dinner in a cool, groovy part of Istanbul. And yeah, to top it all off, they took me to the airport that evening. Thanks to that one rug. We had great conversation, wonderful food, and I felt completely taken care of the entire day. All for the price of a beautiful rug that I still enjoy. And that whole story reminds me of one thing to stay open. Life delight me. Lovely city. So we're doing that now. We're not gonna visit my rug merchant. But we're gonna watch an expert Turkish maker make a bag. So this is sort of a travel episode and a recipe episode. I hope you enjoy it. So get yourself into a safe and comfortable position. And let's unwind. Just let your eyes close softly and gently as you settle in to your inner world, and you bring your awareness to your breath. A lovely natural wave of your breath. And by connecting with this wave of the breath, you're unconsciously connecting with all sorts of other waves inside of you. In fact, you're connecting with all sorts of waves in the natural world. Good. As you bring your awareness to your eyes now, and your eyelids are becoming very soft, let them rest. And as your eyelids are resting, all of the muscles around your eyes are softening and relaxing. And as your eyelids are feeling very heavy, it's almost as if they cannot open. Of course, logic tells us that you can open your eyes. But allow your imagination to feel like they're so heavy they cannot open. Just go with that. And now I'd like you to test your eyes to make sure they won't open by twitching your eyebrows. Just give them a little lift while your eyes remain closed. And you align with your imagination. Go with it. Like a little kid. And even this game is taking you deeper and deeper. Good. Now I'd like you to imagine that inside your skull, where your brain is, is a big bowl of yarn. And one end of that ball of yarn is coming out a little hole in your forehead. Now you imagine that you are pulling gently on the yarn. And as you're pulling on the yarn, the ball of yarn is unwinding and unwinding. Feels good to let it unwind. Now you notice the ball of yarn is becoming smaller and smaller. And now it's unwinding completely as you see the other end of the ball of yarn coming out that hole. And your mind feels nice and clear. Relaxed. Peaceful. Ah, yes. You feel a lovely sense of peace. A lovely wave of peace. Moving down over your shoulders. Down over your arms. Imagine now it feels like a weighted blanket moving down over your arms. So your arms are feeling nice and heavy. And that beautiful wave of peace is moving down now into your hands, into your fingers. And as your hands are relaxing, your whole body is letting go as you unwind. Just let them be as they move through you, taking you deeper and deeper, helping you unwind. Good. Now imagine that wave of peace moving inside of you into your chest. It feels so nice to bring that peace inside. As you allow that wave of peace to gently, gently wash over your heart. And your heart is feeling softened, soothed. As you imagine the wave of peace moving down deeper in your body, deep into your belly. A lovely soft wave of peace moving down into your belly. Taking over every single cell. Relaxing your lower back and your buttocks, your pelvis feeling very heavy on the couch or the bed. Just as your head is feeling heavy on the pillow. Feeling again like a weighted blanket holding you, comforting you as you go deeper and deeper. And the sound of my voice is taking you deeper and deeper. Imagine now you are walking along a narrow cobblestone street in Istanbul. A gentle breeze is drifting in from the Bosphorus, carrying the scent of salt water through the city. You take a nice deep breath. It is a very special place because this city straddles two continents. This is where Europe meets Asia. And history has been unfolding here for thousands of years. Byzantium was rebuilt in 300 BCE by the Romans and renamed Constantinople. As you continue to walk down this little street, you're going deeper and deeper. In the fifteenth century, the Ottomans took over this city, and it was renamed Istanbul. You smell something. Coffee. Turkish coffee. Freshly ground, dark, earthy. Five hundred years ago, the first coffee shop opened in Istanbul. The air is full of stories. You smell warm sesame bread, a hint of cinnamon, toasted pistachios. You stroll past a cafe. You notice small glasses of tea resting on silver trays. A cat curls its tail between the legs of a cafe table. Another cat is napping on a window sill. As you go deeper and deeper, unwinding as you enjoy the afternoon sun. Merchants carrying silk from China, spices from India, glass from Venice, carpets from Persia. Everything seemed to pass through these streets and still does. You step inside, and the sounds of the street soften behind you. The room is clean with a high ceiling. You see wooden shelves displaying rows of beautiful pastries. Some are shaped like tiny nests. Others are cut into perfect diamonds. The whole place smells of butter and roasted nuts. An older gentleman, the baker, welcomes you with a smile. He has a big, thick mustache and wears wire-rimmed spectacles. He is standing behind a wide marble work table, dusted lightly with flour. Lining the sides of the table are several copper bowls, a rolling pin, and a pastry brush resting in a bowl of melted butter. You sit down at a table near the window while he begins his work. He seems accustomed to being watched. In front of him is a stack of phyllo pastry. He gently lifts a sheet from the stack, and it's so thin you can see light shining through it. He dangles it in the air. And the delicate sheet seems to float for just a moment as he places it softly onto a waiting baking sheet. He reaches for the pastry brush from the copper bowl of melted butter. He taps it against the side of the bowl. Tink. He pulls its soft bristles across the surface of the dough, and a golden layer of warm butter is left behind. You watch as he places the brush carefully back into the bowl and gently lifts another sheet of phylode. He lays it delicately on the first, lifts the brush, tink, and brushes the butter along the second sheet. As he unwinds, going deeper and deeper.

SPEAKER_02 23:58

Layer butter layer butter again and again.

SPEAKER_01 24:22

Feels soothing to watch him as you align with him and you are relaxing going deeper and deeper. You notice that every sheet of pastry is slightly different. One edge curls a little. One creates an air pocket as it lands. Layer butter layer butter. He's working slowly, carefully, hypnotically. What we call baklava goes back millennia to the Assyrian Empire when unleavened flatbreads were layered with nuts and honey. The baker reaches for a large wooden bowl. He tilts it forward to show you that it's filled with finely chopped pistachios. They are soft green with hints of gold and brown. He reaches into the bowl for a small handful and sprinkles them carefully. Not all at once, just enough to cover the delicate surface of the pastry. He needs no measuring cup or scale. He knows this process. He knows it in his bones. As you go deeper and deeper. Lifting yet another sheet. And for just a moment, it seems almost weightless. Then he places it upon the pistachios. Like a sigh. He takes the pastry brush from the warm butter. You hear that tiny tink against the rim. Then you watch as he glides the brush across the pastry. Another layer. Another brush stroke.

SPEAKER_02 28:35

Layer butter layer butter layer butter.

SPEAKER_01 28:58

Another fairy horn sounds across the Bosphorus as the afternoon develops gently. The baker reaches for a long knife. He places it carefully on his creation and then draws it down through the layers of pastry in one smooth motion. It's barely audible. As dozens of paper thin layers yield together. It is a beautiful vertical motion through so many horizontal layers. You hear the knife gently making contact with the pan. You watch as he makes another long diagonal cut. Then another. A design that has barely changed in centuries. During the Ottoman Empire, the Sultan lived in Takapi Palace, where teams of pastry chefs prepared treats for royal celebrations. He opens the heavy oven door and a wave of warmth reaches your face. He slides the baking sheet inside, closes the door, and wipes his hands on his apron. You hear the sounds of voices drifting in from the street. For centuries, travelers arriving in the city have been welcomed with tea, conversation, and something sweet. And now you notice the fragrance within the bakery is beginning to change. You smell the butter first, and now the toasted pastry. And now honey. Rich, sweet. The baker is stirring a wooden spoon in a copper saucepan. He's warming honey and cinnamon on the stove. Yeah, it's a bit of water and a squeeze of lemon as it warms. And he stirs, going deeper. He wraps his hand in a tea towel and pulls the baking sheet from the oven. The pastry looks golden, crisp, and delicate. And while it is still hot, he dips a small ladle into the saucepan of honey and lifts it high. And as it touches the hot pastry, you hear a gentle hiss. He smiles. He lifts another ladle.

unknown 34:42

Hiss.

SPEAKER_01 34:44

Again. A fragrance of warm honey is filling every corner of the room. You breathe it in slowly. As the syrup is finding its way down, down, down through every delicate layer. And as it goes deeper and deeper, you are going deeper and deeper. The baker places a plate of warm baklava before you. Tiny pistachias are scattered across the top like powdered emeralds. The top layers of pastry look almost translucent, its crisp edges curling ever so slightly. Along one edge, a bead of honey glistens before dropping onto the porcelain plate. You lift a piece. Maybe even orange blossom. Your first bite is crisp. Dozens of leaves of pastry crackling and shattering as tiny flakes tumble onto the plate and onto your napkin. One delicate shard clings to your fingertip and you lick it off. And as you chew, you discover a softness in this pastry. You taste the honey, the pistachios as you go deeper and deeper. Tail held high, and the light is changing, shadows lengthening as the sky turns a pale gold.