TahiniRun was born on a trip back to Türkyie, where I met my family and the country for the first time as a young adult. Turkish culture had always been there in the background growing up, but this was different. This time, it was real. It was loud, generous, authentic. And somewhere in the chaos of it all, I felt something I didn’t expect, a deep sense of belonging. Like I hadn’t arrived somewhere new, but returned to something that had been waiting for me.

 

For seven months I lived with my grandmother, Esme. She relentlessly and lovingly fed me the way grandmothers do. Every day was a feast of çorba simmering on the stove, trays of börek, plates of tavuk pilav, ciğer cooked just right. Even the simplest things like boiled eggs, fresh tomatoes tasted better there. Or maybe they just meant more. She didn’t just cook my favourites she expanded my heart and stomach capacity one dish at a time.

 

Somewhere between breakfasts and slow meals, I became a little obsessed with tahini.

 

When I came back to Australia, I tried to hold onto it, to recreate what I’d tasted and what I’d felt. I made her dishes, shared jars of tahini pekmez with friends, a thick, nutty tahini swirled with rich Turkish molasses. But something was off. The tahini I could find here felt flat. A little too bitter, a little lifeless. It was missing something, the depth, the warmth, the soul.

 

Maybe I’m biased. But I believe tahini is one of the most underrated, versatile ingredients out there. And if I couldn’t find the kind I fell in love with, I figured I’d make it myself.