Hajro Muminovic turns a loaf of pita bread in the wood-fired oven at the Depot 62 Cafe in Manchester on Friday. Photo: Jon Olender / Rutland Herald

By Ellen Ecker Ogden

How could I have been such a blockhead, I asked myself, after I finally ventured into Depot 62 in Manchester for dinner.

Two years ago when I had seen the first signs on the window advertising brick oven pizza, I made a mental note to avoid the place. How serious can the food be, I thought, because the window displays featured oversized leather sofas draped with angora throws and furry pillows. I never gave it a second thought.

Maybe it was the lure of the open-hearth fire on a cold February night, or the convenient location, but after an evening workout at the gym with a group of girlfriends we decided to go there for dinner. Indeed, the brick oven had a bracing effect, and we chose seats at one end of a long hand-hewn copper table. Cindy took charge. She did the ordering while the rest of us eyed the beaded chandeliers, the sprays of silk orchids and the antique bed not far from our table.

"It's just like eating at home," exclaimed Carol with amazement. "Except everything has a price tag."

We uncorked the wine, and while we awaited our first appetizer we stepped from our table to inspect the Lisbon bed ($3,423) that was made from precious wood, reclaimed from derelict barns in southern Brazil. Cindy beckoned us back to the table when the waiter delivered a dish of smoked eggplant dip and bread dusted with sesame and black onion seeds.

Soon, a series of pizzas began arriving at the table. One was adorned with roasted asparagus, amidst Turkish feta cheese and Kalamata olive paste – an exotic combination that captured the essence of Mediterranean flavors.

"I'll take another piece of the wild mushroom," said Terry as she stretched her plate across the table for a wedge smothered in mushrooms, caramelized onion and fontina cheese. The rest of us were already sampling the spicy shrimp covered with melted fresh mozzarella, tomato and basil.

Two bottles of wine, three savory appetizers and four exceptional pizzas later, we wandered around the store, wineglasses in hand, to admire the kilim rugs, framed photographs and imported furniture. It was late by the time we stumbled into the cold toward home, but our senses were filled by the exotic sights and flavors created by this special restaurant.

Depot 62 is the creation of Alp Basdogan, rug designer and international businessman from Turkey. Curious about the mix of high-end furniture combined with open-hearth cookery, I arranged to meet him at the restaurant the morning after our dinner. He arrived in a ski jacket, with a wool hat and ski goggles pushed over his forehead, and was on his way to the mountain to ski. Over a cup of coffee, I confessed that my first impression of the restaurant was that it was a gimmick, but then I mentioned how much I had enjoyed the atmosphere from the night before. He removed his hat and goggles, and began to tell his story.

Basdogan grew up in Turkey, in a family business that designs and weaves wool rugs. The business had started with his grandfather, and every day the family would gather for lunch at the rug store in Adana, outside Istanbul. His mother and father were excellent cooks, and so were his seven uncles, who would compete to show off their cooking prowess for family and the staff.

"We'd build a big fire to cook the food, and a long table was set up in the store," said Basdogan. "Growing up, I never understood why they sent me to the rug store to eat. It was dusty and I really didn't like it, but now I understand. It was the texture, the color, the taste and smell of the food that gave me the foundation for my life."

In 1980, Basdogan graduated from the University of Michigan with a degree in international trade, and a few years later opened his first rug showroom on Lexington Avenue in New York City. He specialized the sale of kilim (flat-weave) wool rugs that were produced by his family's business in Turkey, which he visits five or six times a year. His brother was in charge of production, his sister was the designer, and his father bought the raw materials.

Basdogan sold the rugs in the United States and over the next two decades created seven trade showrooms in major U.S. cities.

Several years ago, he was invited by rug clients to visit Manchester. It was summer, and the smell of the mountain air and the climate transported his senses back to his childhood and reminded him of visits to his grandfather's summer cabin in the Mediterranean part of Turkey, a mountainous area with elevations of 6,000 feet. "The air was moist and smelled of the earth, and I knew that I wanted to be here (in Vermont)," he said.

He found a retail location and signed a lease, and during his next trip to Turkey he constructed a long communal table by hammering pieces of copper together and upholstered several dozen chairs with recycled kilim rugs. Each chair is different yet in tune with one type of lighting and set of rugs displayed in the store/restaurant — which are, for the most part, designed and manufactured by Basdogan.

"And what about the food?" I asked, still not able to put all the pieces together.

"The food is the heart of the business, which is why I put the restaurant in the middle of the store," he explained. "The pizza is only to bring people in the door. It's familiar, so most people start with that. But once they see our Turkish dishes, they come back a second time to try those."

One-pot meals are slow-baked in clay pots, which are also imported from Turkey, and involve recipes from his grandparents and parents. The restaurant itself is a four-way partnership among himself, a friend named Serap and a young married couple from Bosnia, Hajro and Asra, whom he met in a rug showroom in South Carolina. All share the work in the kitchen and serving.

Eating together with friends and family is important for Basdogan, but he also feels that the long communal table cultivates new friendships.

Later that evening, I find myself back at Depot 62, seated at the long copper table with Basdogan, his friends and the restaurant staff, tucking into a fragrant Guvec. The recipe, from his father, combines organic Vermont lamb with eggplant simmered in organic olive oil, garlic, cumin and spices. "Food helps people to relax," Basdogan says, leaning back in his chair to admire the beautiful atmosphere that he has created. "When food is cooked simply and slowly, you don't have a nightmare at night. You just smile."



Ellen Ecker Ogden writes about food, chefs and restaurants from her home in Manchester Village. Her cookbook "From the Cook's Garden" is available in bookstores, and her new book "The Vermont Cheese Book," will be published in July. Visit www.ellenogden.com.