I was in high school the first time I tasted manti. A friend’s Turkish grandmother whipped them up for us for dinner, and I remember being totally smitten by the little meat-filled pockets swimming in a tangy yogurt sauce. The memory of standing in the kitchen holding a bowl of manti has stuck with me for more than 15 years, and it’s a funny thing to think about why we carry around rather mundane memories of some things and manage to forget really important stuff from the past. I’m not sure what it was about the manti. Maybe because it’s sort of a familiar idea (like a cross between tortellini and dumplings?) presented in a totally new way? Or maybe because it was just that delicious.
