Under the crust

I stumbled groggy and hungover into the study late this morning to find monshu gung-ho about hiking down to the paint store on Clark to look at paint colours and get some lunch. I was indifferent to the idea of choosing paint, but the idea of getting lunch there implanted itself. So later, when he was groggy due to napping, I decided it was now-or-never and nipped down to Turkish Bakery for Karadeniz pide.

While there, I took advantage of the opportunity to ask the waiter what his word for mie was. He told me that some speakers used hamuz, which literally means "dough", but that the usual word was ekmek içi, which is literally "the inside of bread". He was bemused at my interest in Turkish and question me about it, which led to a bit of rambling on Sertab Erener, Orhan Pamuk, and the Ottomans.

(Then on the way back, I scored some paint chips for monshu at Thybonny because that's just the kind of boyfriend I am.)