Back in the late 80s and early 90s, after a visit at my aunt’s or a trip to the heart of Hollywood for some Armenian event or another, my parents used to treat us kids by taking us to Zankou Chicken. Zankou back then wasn’t like the Zankou now famous in LA with several locations around town (they have a website now -what the ?). I remember it as a narrow “hole in the wall” no frills take-out on Sunset and Normandy (ok so it’s still no frills but it’s three times its original size) and inevitably Mr. Zankou (the late Mr. Iskanderian) would pop out from the back room and with the signature shrugging of his shoulders ask my dad “Have you heard the latest on
What I really got excited about on those trips was the toorshi. Toorshi or Torshi - strips of pink, vinegary, garlicy turnips wrapped up in foil or tucked away in the corner of your plate. My sister and I would fight over them until we got wise enough to ask the ladies for more toorshi too.
Pickled turnips. Such a simple thing. Actually I had no idea they were turnips until a few years later. I can eat a bowl of these if you leave it in front of me. I hunted them down not long ago here in
I was intimidated at first. Pickling doesn’t sound easy. It sounds like I need special equipment. Then after telling my friend about the bad jar from