The Pudding Shop no longer has a garden. It is just another cafe behind a street window catering to tourists. Happily, it still specialises in Turkish milk puddings of all flavours.
The owner brought me a pudding bursting with fruit and berries. ‘Is special pudding,’ he whispered in my ear. ‘Is called sex pudding. After this, you go three, four times in one night.’ He formed a fist and pumped his arm,winking.
‘Maybe for a Turk,’ I said. “An Australian - oh, maybe twelve, thirteen times.’
The old man roared. ‘For you, this pudding is free. No charge.’
from Turn Right At Istanbul by Tony Wright