Original subtitles

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Türkiye is known as the birthplace of bread.

♪ ♪

[Writer] For us, bread is something sacred.

♪ ♪

The smell, the warmth, it makes you feel open to the world.

♪ ♪

It’s crispy.

Kchh. Kchh. Kchh.

Sweetness.

Crunchiness.

Am I being too romantic? No.

We see life through bread.

♪ ♪

[Narrator] Travel the world

to rediscover our most fundamental food.

And fall in love with bread all over again.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

This is Istanbul, Türkiye.

A city with a pinch of antiquity,

a dash of modernity,

and all the flavors of a nation at the crossroads.

And cats.

Lots of cats.

This town has a nickname:

the city of the world’s desires.

And for the 16 million people who call it home,

at the top of the list is bread.

Hot, fresh, "What wonder am I tasting right now?" bread.

[Writer] Despite the advice not to consume bread too much,

I love it, I enjoy it.

It comforts me.

It’s my daily companion.

[Narrator] For a lot of us, bread is a warm hug.

A smile.

But in Türkiye, bread is more than food.

To understand this country, you have to get to know two breads,

one reserved only for the most sacred time of the year;

the other, the fuel that keeps Türkiye’s biggest city moving.

♪ ♪

[Writer] Turks eat nearly two pounds of bread per day.

It’s the highest in the world.

♪ ♪

I am Artun Ünsal.

I am 80 years old.

[laughing]

[clears throat]

Sorry.

Restart.

I live in Istanbul.

Professor of political science, retired.

I was also an amateur of Turkish treasures.

Turkish treasures for me meant bread, cheese, olives.

That’s the holy alliance of things.

[Narrator] For a country that takes the love of bread

to a whole other level,

baking it isn't just a job,

it’s a calling.

I used to live in an Anatolian hamlet.

I didn’t like school because we walked a lot.

I would see wolves and wild boars.

My teacher asked me, "Do you want to study?"

I said, "No, I’m not going to study.

I will sell simit."

♪ ♪

[Narrator] 51-year-old Sami Eryilmaz

is an old-school baker...

who’s kept up his craft through trying times.

Destiny led him here to his family's bakery,

Tophane Tarihi Tas Firin.

From 2:00 a.m. till 4:00 p.m., alongside his brother,

he's elbows deep in dough,

sculpting hundreds of simit a day.

I like to explain simit as the ancestor of bagel.

Crunchy texture outside,

and the chewy texture inside makes it really delicious.

[Writer] Round in shape,

dipped in water-molasses mixture.

Covered with sesames and baked fresh.

It’s the ultimate comfort food.

♪ ♪

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[Narrator] Roll. Dip. Press. Bake.

Over and over and over again.

It’s a muscle memory honed over 39 years.

But Sami’s rise to the top started at the bottom.

When I graduated from primary school at the age of 13,

my father sent me here on a bus

to work at the simit bakery operated by my uncle.

It was my first time in such a big city; it made me dizzy.

We sold around 1,000 simits a day.

It was exhausting.

[meow]

[Narrator] After years of apprenticeship,

Sami's fate was sealed when he and his siblings

divided up the family businesses.

We had one kebab restaurant and three simit bakeries.

We wrote all the properties on four pieces of paper.

We folded them and put them in a glass.

Everyone picked one.

And I got this place.

♪ ♪

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Let’s prepare the packages with 20 each.

80 in total.

Would it be enough?

70 of these would fit in.

[Narrator] Simit is a family affair

for the Eryilmaz brothers.

While Sami mans the dough,

his brother goes out and earns it,

delivering these toasty golden halos across Istanbul.

♪ ♪

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For a city that never stops moving,

this is the most beloved of Turkish delights.

♪ ♪

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-You want simit, right? -Yes.

Thanks, God bless you.

Happy holidays.

[Artun] Simit is the most convenient.

So comfortable to eat...

carry...

buy.

No matter what class you come from--

the uppermost wealthy or extremely poor--

simit feeds all.

Istanbulites cannot function without simit.

My name is Gamze Ineceli,

and I travel throughout Türkiye,

discovering humanity and how it all came about through food.

Those simit peddlers are a very important

and vibrant texture of the landscape.

Having chats with regulars,

there is a freedom being a peddler on the street.

One, please.

One?

Happy holidays.

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♪ ♪

[Aylin] In the old times we heard them yelling

in the streets and the neighborhoods.

The simit man is here, simitci is passing by.

How they carry?

On their head, of course.

[Peddler] Simitci!

[Aylin] You have to really balance it

so that you don’t have simits wheeling all around.

[Peddler] Simitci!

This one.

[Artun] Ekmek and simit are like our daily prayer,

part of our ritual.

Ekmek in Turkish means "bread," but also means of life.

We see life through bread.

In Turkey, food is divided into two groups.

Bread, and other food.

So bread is a whole food category by itself.

♪ ♪

Is it done?

You need to cut for the pide, too.

Make it 150 grams each.

Don’t cut it too big.

My name is Hakan Dogan.

My mother gave birth to me while working at the bakery.

I am the last member

in a bread-making family of 125 years.

[Narrator] Hakan Dogan comes

from a long line of master bakers,

but he’s also the Indiana Jones of bread.

Aunt Naciye, are there such bakeries in every neighborhood?

[Narrator] He's so obsessed with bread

that he’s chased it around the world...

[speaking Turkish]

...discovering countless varieties

and baking techniques.

At Pasto Bursa,

his family bakery two hours south of Istanbul,

Hakan makes over 40 different types of bread,

but it wasn’t always love at first loaf.

My father would say:

"If you don't get what you love, you should love what you get."

So I started this job as an obligation at first.

I started working, but they didn’t teach me how to bake.

And then I had to go for my mandatory military duty.

One day, a problem came up while making bread.

They called me in because my father was a baker.

I called my father and asked him what to do.

They started laughing.

They said, "See, we knew you'd want to learn baking someday."

Despite this, I made a very, very good bread that day

in my opinion.

When I came back, I started making any bread

that I wanted, saw, or tasted.

Each bread that you put in the oven makes you excited:

"I wonder how is it going to come out like this time?"

My workday starts at 8:00 a.m.

And I make bread until 8:00 p.m.

I also make sure to go to another city once a month

and two countries a year to see different types of bread.

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[Narrator] But Hakan doesn’t need to wander far.

Türkiye is part of the fertile crescent,

and it's here Hakan can discover the secrets

of Türkiye’s 13,000-year-old relationship to bread.

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[Narrator] For globe-trotting bread explorer Hakan Dogan...

♪ ♪

...every day is a dough-slinging adventure.

People will enjoy this.

I can only sleep three hours a day.

When I am not sleeping,

I read dissertations

and watch videos about bread making

because I am also very interested

in the history and culture of bread.

♪ ♪

[Narrator] Hakan's so into bread

and the stuff that makes it

that he's turned a corner of his bakery into a museum

of grains collected from around the world.

But it turns out the greatest treasure

is in his own backyard.

We have an amazing variety

when it comes to bread

because we have various kinds of wheat.

That’s why we are deemed the homeland of wheat.

This is part of our country’s wealth.

[Artun] Bread-making is not rocket science.

But still, there’s lots of rocket observation in it.

[Narrator] Most bread is simple stuff.

Water, salt, leavening, and flour made from wheat.

You buy it at the grocery store.

It gets stuffed into a cupboard.

It’s a mess.

You’d never guess that we owe human civilization to it.

In the times of hunting society,

they first thought that wheat is not edible.

Because when you eat it raw, you get sick.

Then they tried to grind it with rocks to process it easier.

They added water and cooked it.

That’s how they discovered flour.

[Artun] This geography is where wheat is born, in a way.

People were planting both wild and tamed species

together in the same place.

I stay where you put me and I grow.

And I produce, I multiply.

[Narrator] Growing wheat forced humans

to get their act together,

establishing cities and modern agriculture.

Its ability to keep us fed was so intoxicating

that nomads stopped wandering the earth.

Hello, Mahmut.

Hello and welcome.

[Narrator] And started cultivating it.

We have some einkorn wheat to be sifted.

Sure.

[Narrator] To understand those ancient roots,

Hakan is making a pilgrimage to the town of Iznik.

Here, mother-daughter duo Asiye and Nebahat Çil

run a stone mill that’s been at the grind since 1893.

Feast your eyes on einkorn wheat,

one of the first grains to ever be transformed into bread,

some 10,000 years ago.

♪ ♪

They would work so hard back in the day.

Was it only women who used to work in the old times?

Only women.

They used to cut the wheat,

and men used to make bundles with them.

Which task is more difficult?

Cutting, of course.

Women would do the hard work.

Always.

[laughing]

There are so many cracks.

How is it going to be when there is no water?

They will not grow that much.

They will turn pale and stay short.

And there is no wheat, right?

Yes. The efficiency will decrease like 50%.

There is no life without water.

Even though it looks very green,

my country is a water-poor country.

[Artun] We have a problem.

Uh, Houston, we have a problem!

[Narrator] In Türkiye, historic droughts

have scorched fields across the country,

cutting into its wheat supply.

The workhorse wheat varieties

that fuel Turks' endless bread appetite

are running low.

[Artun] So, we need to prepare ourselves for difficult days.

We must produce more wheat.

We have to produce wheat which is resistant to droughts.

[Narrator] But as a wheat connoisseur like Hakan will tell you,

this modern problem could be helped with an ancient fix.

It turns out that einkorn wheat is hardy and drought resistant,

meaning it can stand up to climate change.

The bread made with einkorn wheat tastes so good.

I am sure it is.

Very good.

The smell and everything.

[Artun] Nowadays a minority of consumers

looking for the first tamed species of wheat.

One is einkorn.

They contain more protein and taste better.

But it’s a luxury bread.

[Narrator] It’s no silver bullet.

Einkorn's more expensive to grow and harder to process,

but growing more of this granddad of grains

could take some of the pressure

off of more vulnerable varieties.

We need the ancient genes.

In this day and age,

we have to use both traditional and modern methods.

We have lots of bread variations

that we have to make and tell the world about.

[Narrator] Back in Istanbul, feeding the masses

takes another form: Halk Ekmek.

The people’s bread.

A network of factories run by the city since the 1970s,

pumping out nearly two million pounds of bread every day.

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Bread’s so important here that the city helps pay for it.

Keeping Istanbul thriving

has always been about keeping its people fed.

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I am Alev Erdogan Kaya.

I am a mother of one daughter.

I’ve been running this kiosk for the past one and a half years.

I wasn’t sure I could do it when I first started.

[Narrator] After she lost her job

as a construction technician,

Alev Erdogan Kaya found a future selling Halk Ekmek,

bread subsidized by the city of Istanbul

that’s cheap and available to all.

I work six days a week.

I leave for work at 5:30 a.m.

It usually takes me an hour to get here.

Around 6:00 to 6:--

[knocking]

I told you there would be cameras.

Are you here to deliver bread?

They bring my breads and put them at the back.

I put them on the shelves one by one.

And then my customers start showing up.

There you go.

I am always in interaction with people.

People feel close to me.

The total is 8.75 liras.

They tell me that they trust me.

[Narrator] You can buy Halk Ekmek

at 3,000 spots like this across Istanbul.

And get this: a loaf costs about 11 cents.

[Gamze] Halk Ekmek is so important

for the texture of the city.

Bread must be fresh.

You cannot feed people stale bread,

no matter how poor they are or how hungry they are.

It’s delicious.

And it makes you feel satisfied.

And satisfaction is important as a human being.

I hate factory-made bread,

but at the same time,

they make whole bread, they make organic.

They offer good quality bread for all at a good price.

It’s a security system of economy, in a way.

[Narrator] A security system that has deep roots

in Türkiye’s past.

You see, Türkiye only officially became a country

in 1923.

For hundreds of years before that,

this region was a collection of provinces

ruled by the Ottoman Empire.

My name is Aylin Öney Tan.

I’m an architect turned food writer.

Türkiye, it was like a center of universe in the ancient times.

All the goods were coming to Istanbul.

The Ottoman world

was a multi-ethnic, multicultural society.

Bread was a very, very accomplished culture

in Istanbul, always.

In olden Ottoman times, bread was crucial.

[Narrator] Ottoman Sultans ruled over hungry masses

streaming in from Europe and Asia.

Winning them over started with their stomachs.

Cue the simit craze.

Inspired by recipes from Armenia and Macedonia,

it took off in Istanbul and was known as the sultan's gift.

The food used to be cooked in the palace,

distributed throughout the city.

So the subjects were eating

what the people in the palace were eating.

Because if people are hungry, there is chaos.

It’s the oldest story in the world.

The Ottoman Sultan has set standards for bread, such as:

"This kind of flour should be used."

"The price range should be that."

So that we can sell cheaper bread.

This is still going on in my country.

Here, bon appétit.

Have a great holiday.

I think Halk Ekmek is a great organization.

I don’t see them as competition.

I’ve experienced trying times myself.

I keep an eye on the families, people and towns

that consume Halk Ekmek products.

And I’m happy that Halk Ekmek exists.

I hope they can reach even more people.

We serve God by serving the public.

We see bread as the most important food from God.

[Narrator] In countries and cultures around the world,

breaking bread brings us closer to each other and to God.

Think the Eucharist to Christianity

and challah to Judaism.

But for Muslims celebrating their holiest holiday,

to enjoy bread, first you have to give it up.

[Aylin] Ramadan is the fasting period of the Muslim religion.

You fast for a whole month from sunrise to sunset,

and you don't eat or drink.

Even a sip of water is not allowed.

The fasting is to admire, uh, the importance of food

and to control your appetite and greed and all those things.

We try to empathize with people

who don’t have access to these foods.

The thinking behind this is,

"I do it the same way they do."

[Narrator] Any late-night cravings

must be satisfied before sunrise.

Ramadan officially begins with the sun's first light,

not long after Sami Eryilmaz starts his day.

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Fasting is actually a great tradition.

First of all, you rest your body.

You distance yourself with some bad habits that you’re used to.

You understand hunger and the plight of the starving.

It’s such an amazing feeling.

I recommend it to everyone. Rest your stomach.

Rest your soul. Rest your body.

[Artun] So the time comes

when to break the fasting,

as you touch the food, it becomes heavenly.

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[Narrator] After a long day of going hungry,

as Türkiye's collective stomach growls,

sunset is a monumental moment.

So it's only fitting that the fast is broken

with the holiest and most in-demand of breads.

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♪ ♪

In our culture, we like all kinds of bread to be hot.

Especially in Ramadan, when you are hungry all day,

we dream of a very hot and fresh bread.

[Gamze] The Ramadan pide is consumed during Ramadan.

♪ ♪

The shape is round.

It’s crusty,

yet soft and fluffy inside.

We don’t want it to inflate upwards like this,

and we don’t want any big bubbles in it.

So we shape them with our nails and fingers.

So it remains flat.

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The taste, shape, et cetera of the Ramadan pide

change depending on the bakery, flour, and master baker.

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[Gamze] When you’re doing this, it’s something meditative.

Because working with that dough, it’s a certain procedure.

It’s a choreography.

An art form.

Bread is like a fingerprint.

No bread resembles another.

No formula is similar to another.

These shapes we give here

also tell about people or regions.

You can see who made the bread or the pide

just by looking at it.

[Aylin] As a kid I really enjoyed Ramadan pide.

I think Ramadan pide is more about the texture,

this unique softness that we enjoy.

When it's fresh out of the oven,

tucking morsel of fresh butter and enjoy it melting,

that was heavenly.

[Narrator] If you're wondering how Ramadan pide

became synonymous with Ramadan, no one knows for sure.

But why it’s beloved is no mystery.

It's a piping hot, slightly sweet,

once-a-year delicacy.

♪ ♪

We make simit. I am a simit producer.

But I have neighbors who don’t eat simit.

In order to embrace all my neighbors, the neighborhood,

I produce this pide.

[Narrator] And that bread paddle

that looks like it might take out an eye,

it’s called a peel.

[Gamze] To make pide is not the same

as making the regular bread.

It takes much more preparation.

The stress is doubled.

We are quite busy because of Ramadan.

We have a shortage of employees.

I stay up for around 20 hours.

I never did it to make money off it.

It makes me happy to see people eat my pide.

We make the pide in the afternoon

instead of baking it all day.

Ramadan pide. Ramadan pide.

[Gamze] It's always the children who are sent out

to get the bread for the family.

And so you go there, you hold it in your hand,

and your hand burns a little bit,

and then the smell comes.

So that's always in your mind as a child,

the smell and the warmth of bread.

♪ ♪

Anyone waiting for double-egged pide?

This line is only for the double-egged pide.

Those queues are the most important part of Ramadan pide.

There is lots of communication there.

You make friends.

You talk to people.

Ramadan pide, very hot.

Bon appétit.

One more pide?

Here.

[Narrator] As lines snake out bakery doors across Türkiye,

the timing between bake and sale must go perfectly.

Wait.

Don’t tell me to wait, move aside.

Okay, I’m listening.

What kind of listening is that?

This is crazy.

I just want what I deserve.

Just chill out, guys.

See how they are having a fight in Ramadan.

Everyone wants to buy Ramadan pide

just before the breaking of the fast.

But of course, we are not able to make that happen.

We are afraid of offending the customers.

But we explain this every year.

We can’t get them all out of the oven at the same time.

♪ ♪

[Narrator] Ironically, Türkiye's voracious appetite

for hot bread has created a major problem.

♪ ♪

The demand for peak freshness

leaves yesterday's loaves out in the cold

well before they go stale.

[Artun] We have to feed ourselves.

Bread is by far the most essential thing,

especially in Türkiye.

They produce about, in Türkiye,

more than 100 million loaves of bread

throughout the nation every day.

And about six million of those loaves are just wasted.

[Narrator] Six million loaves?

Here’s a visual:

That's around 1,600 tons, or 300 elephants, give or take.

And that elephant is in the room,

not just in Türkiye, but around the globe.

[Aylin] I was told when I was a little kid

that if I see a piece of bread on ground,

raise it to a higher level,

kiss it and put it on your forehead,

and then put it in a wall or something

so that birds can pick it.

It needed to be recycled, not to be wasted.

[Gamze] It’s sinful to throw away bread.

Some people are not fortunate enough to eat.

You must give bread

the uppermost respect that it deserves.

One of the biggest problems of humanity is

buying more than needed and wasting it.

[Narrator] The cast-off heels,

the slices left to mold in the back of the fridge.

We’re all guilty of wasting bread.

So how do you get people to change their ways?

In Istanbul, protecting bread is so important

that the city is stepping in with a cutting-edge solution--

better bread through chemistry.

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[Aylin] There's a branch of Halk Ekmek that does research

and tries to introduce new bread varieties

all the time to the market.

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[Artun] It’s of quality which lasts longer.

You could put in the refrigerator,

use it for 15 days.

I always welcomed this initiative,

which is very for the public.

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[Aylin] It’s getting more and more popular now.

Because there are lots of needy people,

there are lots of immigrants,

and the economy is like a rollercoaster, ups and downs.

So more and more people can be in need.

♪ ♪

[Narrator] Imagine going to the store

to find that prices have gone up by 70%.

That's reality for Türkiye,

where inflation has been surging for years.

It's hit everyone hard, including Sami,

who's seen the price of sugar more than double

and flour nearly triple.

My father used to sell simit before joining the army.

My son is still selling simits.

It’s like a family tradition, yes.

But it made us weary.

It’s become a low-earning profession.

I love my job, but it’s hard.

[Narrator] But in times of trouble,

another ancient Turkish tradition

is stepping up to help.

Just follow the signs for "Askida Ekmek."

It means "bread on a hook."

Those who have a little extra buy a loaf for those who don’t.

I first saw it at the bakery nearby.

I would see "50 or 60 loaves of breads on the hook"

written on their sign.

So we bought a sign as well.

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[Artun] I am a person of means.

I’m buying two loaves of bread.

I say to the baker, please put these on the hanger.

So if needing people eat,

just give it.

The idea is that receiver

shouldn't see the giver,

and the hanger system fits well.

Because the giver can always claim superiority,

in fact, isn’t it?

And the other, humility.

Well, you take the bread on the hanger,

you don’t feel humiliated.

[Gamze] For us, bread is something sacred.

So anything to do with bread,

it’s a part of our heart charity.

I think it’s a privilege to be able to give.

Giving is an art form that must be constructed in the right way

to humble yourself and raise the person you're giving to.

I think that's very symbolic of Ramadan

is how you should be giving,

how you should be doing your good deeds.

I think we give away around 1,000 pide during Ramadan.

I’d like to thank everyone who contributed.

And I’m happy that I could contribute.

I want to continue the tradition with simit on a hanger.

We are an old nation.

We will again embrace and hug each other,

and I think we will overcome this.

[Narrator] Bread has always stood for comfort and care,

so it's only fitting that in trying times,

its aroma is even more tantalizing.

As the sun dips

and the scent of Ramadan pide fills the streets,

the call to break bread is getting stronger.

[Narrator] Finally! Sunset over Istanbul.

The hour for iftar,

the breaking of the fast, has arrived.

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And at the end of this fasting period,

which we call "iftar,"

we have a meal all together.

So that everybody can socialize, chat,

and share that feeling together.

[Aylin] Iftar is all about sharing sense of unity.

The appreciation for food.

Self-control against greed.

It builds a community feeling.

♪ ♪

[Narrator] The iftar table can be crowded,

but its crown jewel is Ramadan pide.

At public gatherings throughout the city,

Istanbulites gather to break this iconic bread,

a symbol of generosity and togetherness.

Our work still goes on at iftar time.

Since our employees are with us at iftar time,

we break fast together with our employees.

Doing it all together is so fun.

Nazim, why don’t you come here?

I can sit on the floor.

No, come here.

May Allah accept your fasting.

It’s become common these years

to turn them into banquets in our country,

but it doesn’t define iftar.

♪ ♪

A modest meal with only a few types of dishes

are the key points.

We don’t want a big and flashy iftar table

because it would go beyond the purpose.

It’s turnip juice.

Come, my friend.

Have a seat, folks.

Shall I pour?

Have a seat, don’t wait there standing.

Come on.

Ali, sit down.

Yes, sit.

You can start, folks.

When you look at it in a religious perspective,

they say when you share meals with someone who is fasting,

they share their merits with you or you get as much as they get.

My dear Ali.

Ahmet, it’s with cheese, and this is mixed.

Cheese and soudjouk.

Ilhan, what kind of pide is that?

Is it mixed?

I’m cutting one with cheese.

I think people like me, and I’m a good employer.

But I’ve never been good at being the boss.

I’ve always been friends with my employees.

And I’m a worker just like them.

Are the pickles good, Ilhan?

It’s good.

It’s a great feeling to help someone as a craftsman.

I don’t think I could live if I weren’t like that.

I love helping out.

It gives me joy to make them happy.

It turns me into someone else.

If I were born again, I’d like to be the same.

♪ ♪

[Narrator] Bread and Turks are soul mates.

After all, they grew up together.

Bread’s always been there with a gentle tap on the shoulder,

a reminder of a shared humanity.

Bread welcomes us as guests,

lets us stay as friends and leave as family.

[Aylin] Turkish people really take pride

connecting themselves to these ancient cultures.

More ordinary bakers are showing interest

in ancient wheat varieties

and trying to learn about these old baking techniques.

Bread making is like intangible cultural heritage.

[Gamze] The richest person in Türkiye

and the poorest person in Türkiye

are eating the same bread.

It makes them reflect about life,

about community, and to share culture.

Life is about sharing, isn’t it?

[Artun] I have still the belief and hope

that we will solve this problem

of better prices, good quality,

which are peculiar to this geography, to this country.

So the future is cloudy but bright,

if I was a meteorologist.

[applause]

We’d like to invite everyone who watched this documentary.

And simits are on the house.

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