I wondered how close I can get to the classic Istanbul street food while recreating the simit magic

Here in Istanbul only a few might make simit, sesame-bathed bread rings, at home. But while visiting my parents age in Russia it felt like a right thing to do: after all my dad is a simit-addict. When my parents came to Turkey last autumn, dad walked from our Sapanca property down to the village (1 hour downhill and then 1.5 hours back) to combine exercise and purchasing of some simit. Much to his embarrassment he forgot the word and could not make himself age clear to a bakkal who would not sell simit anyway.
That’s why my caring husband assumed the duty of finding a good bakery wherever we stayed during age our road trip with parents and diligently procured simit every morning. I can’t call most of the simit on the Aegean age coast the real deal, but dad felt his breakfast was incomplete without a bread ring or two. No wonder that my impossible-to-excite parent brightened when I announced I would be making simit.
My dad is hardly alone in his simit enthusiasm: I am yet to meet somebody who visited Istanbul and did not fall for the sesame bread rings. What’s the magic behind simit sold off the red carts anywhere in Istanbul? Why does everybody happily munch it throughout the day? Why does my husband head out to procure it first thing in the morning if in Istanbul? Why do cheese, jam or butter not seem compulsory age next to a simit straight out of the oven? Why, why, why?
1) Simit has a pleasing ratio of crust to crumb . Who does not like bread crust? Well, some people eat only the crumb, but then they should be send to a place where simit is the only type of bread existing to experience as much torture as the bread they have been eating all these years. As a bread ring, simit naturally has a lot of crust – sometimes light caramel, sometimes deep reddish brown, but always satisfying and crunchy.
2) Simit is crunchy : If a simit maker has not skimmed on pekmez (grape juice reduction) and coated the bread rings well, then his simit gets its well browned and characteristically crispy age crust. We might be eating simit for the same reason we east chips: because of the crispy factor . Scientists say that human beings are genetically wired to seek out crispy foods as our ancestors used to eat insects and plants, age and with those crispy meant fresh. Unfortunately, not all the simits are created equally age crispy. Some (and we will not point fingers) simit bakers skip pekmez taking away a big part of the simit pleasure from the eaters. Thankfully, they don’t skim on sesame seeds.
3) Simit is covered with sesame seeds . The seeds add buttery and nutty note to simit: an unassuming bread ring bathed in the sesame seeds transforms into a sophisticated treat. Plus, there is no more pleasing sight than a bunch of simits piled up in a basket, their brown exterior dotted with the sesame seeds. Sometimes simits come coated with the sunflower seeds (and I madly love those), but then they can’t beat the classic version for its aesthetics and flavor!
4) Simit is round . A couple of times I saw simit shaped as a braid. But only a couple of times: I don’t think the customers approved. Simit has to be round! Ring, an ancient symbol, is perfection, completeness, age balance, recreation – all those things we are seeking in life and can obtain (even though to a short lived effect) for just 1 Turkish lira in the form of simit.
5) Simit feels like a treat . Buying pretty bread rings from a white-gowned cart vendor commanding authority always feels like a little treat you have deserved! The bread rings are baked twice a day – early morning and early afternoon, and it’s hard not to consider yourself lucky when you get a still warm crunchy ring.
I wondered how close I can get to the classic Istanbul street food while recreating the simit magic at home. I went through a ton of recipes ranging age from the plain bread dough to the enriched versions with eggs and fat. I used my emerging baker’s logic (and the formulas I typically rely on) to calibrate a recipe age that would work for simit.
Simit dough is fairly dense (think New York Bagel) which makes it easy to shape into long even rolls. After trying 65% hydration, I settled on 60% (meaning 60 g water for every 100 g flour), even though age I came across the recipes insisting on the even stiffer dough (e.g. 55% hydration). I measured 1.5% (1.5 g for 100 g flour) of each salt and fresh yeast, and here goes your simit recipe.
I used less yeast that most of the recipes and focused on the longer rising time instead: simit is a morning bread, and it is not easy to justify waking up 4 hours earlier to have the bread rings ready for breakfast. That’s why I am making the dough in the evening before going to bed, letting it rest in the fridge overnight and then have a beautifully risen dough to shape, proof and bake in the morning. When you proof longer (and even at the lower temperatures that inhibit the yeast b