Tünel, Beyoğlu, Istanbul. June, 2007

The city has neighborhoods, the neighborhoods have sections, the sections have even smaller enclaves. Addresses in Istanbul can be complicated. Not so the invitations to sample the cuisine. All along the pedestrian Istiklal Caddesi, from our start in Tünel Square up to Taksim at the other end, kebap shops, bakeries, street vendors...all serving up a rich roster of, well, Turkish delights. Here at Konak 2 “kebap ve lahmacun salonu,” Iskender is top of the bill. Also known as Yogurtlu kebap and Bursa kebap (from the city in which it was allegedly invented, where it’s generally more expensive and where several Bursa shops wrangle to legally claim its invention, one company going so far as to officially register the name “Iskender” as its own), it’s made from a skewer of marinated grilled lamb cubes, served on a bed of cut up pide bread (puffy, not the flat pita we’re familiar with), topped first with a spiced tomato sauce, then with a butter sauce, then with a garlicky yogurt sauce. Some recipes use beef or chicken, some put the yogurt on the bread before the meat is layered on, but I saw none of those variations during my visit to the City of the World’s Desire. And if you don’t fancy Iskender, look at all the other kebap options on that menu. Eaters, on your mark!

Istanbul. October, 2011

Laz cooking, aka Black Sea cuisine, comes from the northeast section of Turkey around Trabzon. When I expressed an interest in trying some Laz dishes on my most recent visit to the City of the World’s Desire, food enthusiast and blogger extraordinaire Cenk offered to take Jay and me to Klemuri, a cosy spot in a backstreet near Taksim Square that offered an assortment of such dishes. Like this one: muhlama, a fondue-like creation made with cornmeal, cheese and lots of butter. Yes, please. Also on the table that wonderful lunch: fried hamsı (the Black Sea anchovies then happily in season); stuffed chard leaves with yogurt; a molded bulgur pilaf; a mixed salad of fried bean pickles, potatoes, onions and walnuts; a regional kind of kibbee and much more. Most satisfying and memorable? Finally meeting Cenk and enjoying the pleasure of his company and his kind generosity.

Istiklal Caddesi, Istanbul, 2007

Bustling by day, peaceful at night, this grand boulevard follows a three-kilometer stretch of pedestrian road (though I’ve always seen cars on it, and a streetcar clangs its way from one end to the other) between Tünel and Taksim Squares. “Independence Street” in the Beyoğlu district is often visited by up to three million people on a weekend day, tourists and residents alike, sometimes difficult to tell apart. (I remember the Turkish teenager who asked me the time in his language and was surprised to hear me answer in mine.) During its early 20th-century continental heyday, it was known as Grand Rue de Pera, and after a late-century slump into seediness, it’s back again with cafes, boutiques, restaurants and a rich roster of characters. Walking alone in the evening, I was often approached by touts (aka pimps), suggesting I follow them to an excellent club owned by a cousin or to an assignation with some lovely Russian ladies. One “textile merchant from Cyprus” told me he needed a place to stay for the night. I see. My favorite come-on though was the young man who offered me female companionship one night and then the next, when I reminded him he’d already unsuccessfully approached me, asked me if I was gay. When I told him I was, he outstretched his hands and asked, “Well, how about me?”

Taksim, Istanbul. June, 2007

Mmmmmm. Ekmek kadayif. Syrup-soaked bread topped (if you like) with the thick creamy delight called kaymak. I came to Istanbul determined to try this elusive sweet and did...on my very first day in the city and on several subsequent occasions. I’d initially learned of this dish from Maura Kilpatrick’s recipe for Palace Bread in Spice (the cookbook by Ana Sortun from her great Cambridge restaurant, Oleana.) Once I read it, I was on a mission. (Alas, Oleana only occasionally features this dessert and never, as it happens, when I’ve been there for dinner.) When I asked Murat about it at the Turkish-Armenian Sevan Bakery in my Watertown, Massachusetts, neighborhood, he told me it was made with bread that “you can’t get in the United States.” Well, I’ll show you! I’ll go to Istanbul. Here at Saray pastry shop, I finally had my first taste. Dense and cloying with sweet syrup, it was magnificent. Of course, I wanted more. (Later in the week, I found a young man selling it by the pound in a small market in Uskudar on the Asian side of the city and bought quite a bit.) Egyptian recipes for “palace bread” tend to soak the bread in honey, while Turkish recipes call for a simple sugar syrup, sometimes scented with rosewater. And recently I was thrilled to find a recipe in Armenian Cooking Today (it calls for “Holland rusks” aka zweiback), a gift from my sister-friends Lisa and Susan. Whenever Nick and I travel somewhere together, we tend to take on nicknames drawn from our surroundings. In Turkey, I am always, if you please, Ekmek Kadayif.

Istanbul. October, 2011

Laz cooking, aka Black Sea cuisine, comes from the northeast section of Turkey around Trabzon. When I expressed an interest in trying some Laz dishes on my most recent visit to the City of the World’s Desire, food enthusiast and blogger extraordinaire Cenk offered to take Jay and me to Klemuri, a cosy spot in a backstreet near Taksim Square that offered an assortment of such dishes. Like this one: muhlama, a fondue-like creation made with cornmeal, cheese and lots of butter. Yes, please. Also on the table that wonderful lunch: fried hamsı (the Black Sea anchovies then happily in season); stuffed chard leaves with yogurt; a molded bulgur pilaf; a mixed salad of fried bean pickles, potatoes, onions and walnuts; a regional kind of kibbee and much more. Most satisfying and memorable? Finally meeting Cenk and enjoying the pleasure of his company and his kind generosity.

Istanbul. June, 2007

How quiet Taksim Square looks in this photo from six years ago. This is the same square that’s currently ground zero for the protests now shaking Istanbul, all of Turkey actually. East meets West here, too. Burger King on the right with its hamburgers and upstairs roof terrace. And Kosem Bufe right next to it with its own Turkish-style burgers in big rolls, soggy and warm in their steam-cabinet displays. Today, a different scene.

Istiklal Caddesi, Istanbul. June, 2007

Bustling by day, peaceful at night, this grand boulevard follows a three-kilometer stretch of pedestrian road (though I’ve always seen cars on it, and a streetcar clangs its way from one end to the other) between Tünel and Taksim Squares. “Independence Street” in the Beyoğlu district is often visited by up to three million people on a weekend day, tourists and residents alike, sometimes difficult to tell apart. (I remember the Turkish teenager who asked me the time in his language and was surprised to hear me answer in mine.) During its early 20th-century continental heyday, it was known as Grand Rue de Pera, and after a late-century slump into seediness, it’s back again with cafes, boutiques, restaurants and a rich roster of characters. Walking alone in the evening, I was often approached by touts (aka pimps), suggesting I follow them to an excellent club owned by a cousin or to an assignation with some lovely Russian ladies. One “textile merchant from Cyprus” told me he needed a place to stay for the night. I see. My favorite come-on though was the young man who offered me female companionship one night and then the next, when I reminded him he’d already unsuccessfully approached me, asked me if I was gay. When I told him I was, he outstretched his hands and asked, “Well, how about me?”

Istanbul. June, 2007

How quiet Taksim Square looks in this photo from six years ago. This is the same square that’s currently ground zero for the protests now shaking Istanbul, all of Turkey actually. East meets West here, too. Burger King on the right with its hamburgers and upstairs roof terrace. And Kosem Bufe right next to it with its own Turkish-style burgers in big rolls, soggy and warm in their steam-cabinet displays. Today, a different scene.