The World's Most Willful Female Chef

"You wanted to see me?" A Turkish woman in a bright yellow Indian dress, her head wrapped in a bright yellow loincloth, clattered over and dropped the eye-sore bag from her shoulder on the chair. She gasped, standing straight before me, her saber eyebrows flying sideways into her temples.

"Well, I'm going to find the owner of this store."

"I am." She cut in before I had finished my sentence.

"Uh, or a chef." My words slid out of inertia.

"Likewise, I am." She waved her hand forthrightly and not too patiently. "Why?"

When I explained my media status, she pointed her finger slyly at me and said, "Aha, I knew you worked in the media. You, people, know everything that goes on in the dark corners."

Yes, it's just a normal street, a normal storefront in a normal residential area of Istanbul. There was a row of cakes in the window, and there was a huge workbench, a huge cellar. You can hardly turn around in there.

It was in such a place, even without a house, that a great cook was hidden. She, the woman dressed as India, whose name I couldn't pronounce, asked me to call her Seriia. Before she arrived, the staff told me, in only English, that the chef was "amazing" and they snowed their mouths into the corner, saying he had run a famous restaurant.

"The restaurant I used to run, have you heard of it? It's called Abacadabra. It's one of the Top50 restaurants in the world. The New York Times and the British press." Seriia said casually. "Then the business got so good, oh, it was boring, it wasn't interesting, and I shut it down. I don't like things that aren't interesting."

Seriia was named Turkey's genius chef by the media at a young age. She comes from a city in southern Turkey known for its cuisine, and her father's culinary reputation is well known throughout the city. As a child, she followed her father around the kitchen, where he played "guess what's in the dish" with her. Finally, when her father could no longer defeat her, she became the genius of cooking in Turkey.

Serbia, which shut down a luxury restaurant, opened this takeout restaurant, which specializes in cheap meals for ordinary people. She said, "Do you know how expensive my old restaurant was? Even if I was its owner, I couldn't afford to eat it once a day, assuming I had to pay to eat it." But even then, reservations are booked for up to nine months.

So, she shut down a gold mine. "I hate doing the same thing," she shrugs. Why do I do it when I already know it works well? I've never done cheap fast food before. I'll do it." However, she is very melancholy ground to say: "TODAY IS MY opening DAY ONLY, I DARE NOT LET A person KNOW IS I OPEN, otherwise AGAIN FULL how TO DO? But more importantly, as long as people have eaten the food, how can they not know it's my cooking?"

'No way! "I cried in disbelief.

"Please! She shouted, pushing the cheesecake in front of me and saying, "You eat it. I don't believe you've ever eaten cheesecake like that."

I took a try. She was right. This cheesecake subverts itself, in addition to the taste of cheese, a variety of spices in the mouth form an explosion of pleasure. I was struck by the aroma. It's as explosive as this woman right here.

She smirked at my surprised expression.

"Why would you put so much spice in such a soft cheesecake?" I asked.

"Is it good?" She asked. Indeed, it was the best cheesecake I've ever had in my life, and I guarantee that the taste will remain in my memory for the rest of my life.

"It's delicious! I answered honestly.

"That's the end of it. Where there are so many why. Why is that? Because I did it. Who am I? Who am I?! Hem."

"How much money can you make with this shop? Cheap takeout, are you crazy?" I asked.

"I used to make ten thousand dollars from one person, now I make one dollar from ten thousand people. My game is to be played the way I play it. And how could I fail? No one who has tried my food will believe that I will fail." With a look of course on her face, she rushed downstairs with a big wave of her hands and turned to me and said, "My mom wants me. I'm going down. Bye-bye!" The yellow cyclone, like that, crashed away again.