In Turkey, a traditional method for remembering the recently deceased, which I really love, is that of the mourning-donut (Lokma in Turkish). When a beloved family member dies, it is customary for the surviving clan to set up a booth/tent on the sidewalk and give away free donuts for a few hours.
Free pastries are the best way to grieve, its science.
Apparently, this act of generosity is on the behalf of the recently departed, honoring their memory. Some families man the post themselves; frying donuts in borrowed or rented fryers. Others rent professional caterers who specialize in this particular gig, who set up large dough machines that drop measured dough balls into the large oil vat, before letting them cool and then coating them with a sugary syrup. I have to admit; with the exception of the Irish wake I didn’t know grieving could be so wonderful, let alone so delicious. These morbid donuts are light and crispy, without being too sweet.
It is an event the neighborhood turns out for, but not in a festive way, in a way similar to humming birds queuing for a feeder. In the only coherent line-up I’ve seen during my time in Turkey, people stand in line for their due portion of donuts. No one says a word, really, not please nor thank you, not even condolences. People just take the donuts and leave. Even more, people bring their own containers, large ones. If your not satisfied with the four-donut plastic tray they give you can bring any large bowl or pot that they will silently fill up to the brim. One particular time I had gone to get some funeral donuts I saw a guy with a huge salad bowl return six or seven times, just when I was there. It would seem there is no denying death-donut requests. What is he going to do with all those donuts? He seemed to be coming from a local corner store, was he going to sell them? Is it ethical to sell mourning-donuts that you got for free? Despite our moral misgivings, however, after my English roommate, Steve, and I finished the plastic tray tout de suite, he did go back down to the tent with a large bowl.
-Charles P. Pearson
You’re lucky you’re in Izmir, because in most other cities they don’t have this tradition actually. Some of my friends from Ankara haven’t even heard about this.
Also, there is a direct relationship between the minimum amount that you must take and how well you know the mourning family. Even if you’re on a diet, even if you’re not going to eat it and it’s going to go to waste, you *have to* take those three bowls of lokma from your neighbour. *sigh* if only that were the worst of one’s troubles in Turkey.