June 25, 2004
Eating Istanbul
From Kebabs to Fried Mussels to Suleiman the Magnificent’s 1539 Feast
By Michael Lukas
Depending on who you ask, Istanbul is between one-and-a-half and two times as big as New York City. Home to
between 10 and 14 million stomachs, the former Ottoman capital has more restaurants than any one man could
sample in a lifetime. With a little less than a week, I set out to eat my way through the city — from kebabs to
dolmas, baklavah, ice cream, and fried mussels. I ate it all, and in the process, fell in love. There were bad meals of
course. But as a whole, Istanbul’s food rivals that of any city I’ve eaten in.
On the advice of a Turkish-American comparative literature Ph.D. student I met at the airport, I headed directly to
Haci Abdullah’s, a spotless traditional Turkish restaurant decorated with big jars of preserved artichokes and
carrots. Haci Abdullah’s, which has been around since 1888, is the kind of restaurant where the waiters guide
bewildered tourists to glass cases from which they can choose their meals. But, over-confident eater that I am, I
ordered directly off the menu.This proved to be a mistake. The mixed dolmas — green pepper, zucchini, cabbage,
and grape leaves stuffed with a spicy meat filling —were excellent. But the mashed eggplant tasted like instant
mashed potatoes mixed with baba ganoush, and Haci Abdullah’s “Special Yoghurt,” although quite good, was just
plain yoghurt. (Haci Abdullah, 17 Sakizagaci Caddesi, Beyoglu Istanbul, 90-212-293-85-61; most dishes priced
between $7 and $10.)
The next night, armed with a glowing recommendation from Fodor’s and a bit more caution, I travelled back four
centuries to an Ottoman restaurant called Asitane. A number of establishments around the city claim to have
Ottoman dishes on the menu, but none take Ottoman cuisine quite so seriously as this minimally elegant restaurant.
According to its menu, Asitane has “hunted down lost tastes with academic zeal,” consulting budget ledgers and
memoirs of foreign diplomats to “retrieve authentic Ottoman recipes.”
More than half the menu is comprised of dishes served by Suleiman the Magnificent at a feast given in 1539 to
honor his son’s circumcision. While the goose kebab and stuffed quince with grape syrup looked appealing, I
couldn’t resist choosing dishes from the circumcision feast — coconut almond soup, honey apricot lamb stewed in a
traditional guvech pot, and kizil barmak, a honey-coated, finger-size pastry coated with crumbled pistachios. At the
end of each course, my waiter asked me, “Was it delicious?” Each time, I could honestly say yes. (Asitane, 18
Kariye Camii Sokak, Edirnekapi Istanbul, 90-212-534-84-14; most dishes priced between $12 and $18.)
Although I generally dislike the idea of hotel restaurants, I had heard from a number of sources that the Four
Seasons’ Istanbul is the best kitchen in Turkey and among the best Four Seasons in Europe. So I was ready to
swallow my prejudice and go, until Nihan Korkmaz, a Turkish friend of mine, persuaded me not to. “The cook is
Italian,” she said scornfully.
As an alternative, she suggested Chocolate, a hip new bistro in the Ritz Carlton frequented by Turkish models and
movie stars. Taking her advice, I bought a new shirt, took some money out of the ATM, and headed over to
Chocolate at the fashionable hour of 9 p.m. I can’t say whether there were any models or movie stars there that
night. But I can say that the food was quite poor. Ordering off a menu that belonged at TGIFriday’s (dominated by
cocktails, pasta, and hamburgers) I chose a “lamb skewer with Persian rice with dill in phyllo pastry.” What I got
was a lukewarm $15 dollar lamb wrap with fries. (Chocolate, 15 Askerocagi Caddesi, Sishli Istanbul, 90-212-334-
44-44.)
I had far better luck at restaurants serving local specialties such as kebab, doner, and kofte (also known as Turkish
meatballs). Almost all the grilled meat I ate in Istanbul was fresh off the grill, perfectly seasoned, and cheap. The
best of a number of good restaurants are Meshur Bursa Kebapcisi and Meshur Sultanahmet Koftecisi (meshur
means famous). Both are places where every patron tends to order the same thing: at Meshur Sultanahmet Koftecisi
it’s the kofte, and at Meshur Bursa Kebapcisi it’s the iskander doner, thinly sliced meat served over flat bread
soaked in a tomato yoghurt sauce. At both restaurants, $5 gets you meat, salad, and an ayran,a thin, salty yoghurt
drink that perfectly balances the salty heat of grilled meat. (Meshur Bursa Kebapcisi, 45 Istiklal Caddesi, Beyoglu
Istanbul, 90-212-249-93-72; Meshur Sultanahmet Koftecisi, 12 Divan Yolu, Sultanahmet Istanbul, 90-212-513-
14-38.)
Following my meal at Meshur Bursa Kebapcisi, I walked down the street to Saray Muhallebicileri to try the famous
sutlach, a rice pudding that people say is the best dessert in the country. On my way out, I ran into a well-dressed
Turkish businessman who had been sitting next to me in Meshur Bursa Kebapcisi, also eating iskander doner.
“Sutlach?” he asked looking at my bag. I nodded. Smiling, he gave me the thumbs up. Saray also serves a selection
of syrupy, pistachio-filled baklavah that are reason enough to book a ticket to Istanbul. (Saray Muhallebicileri,102
Istiklal Caddesi, Beyoglu Istanbul, 90-212-292-34-34.)
Another reason is Turkish ice cream, a gummy concoction unlike anything I have ever eaten, served out of copper
tubs by men dressed in red and gold uniforms. Or kazandibi, a gooey burnt cross between toffee and tapioca. And,
of course, Turkish Delights. I usually don’t like them much, but the Turkish Delights at Ali Muhiddin Haci Bekir
(where the confection was invented) really are a delight. (Ali Muhiddin Haci Bekir, 27 Hamidiye Caddesi, Eminonu
Istanbul, 90-212-245-13-75.)
Istanbul has an amazing array of sit-down restaurants, but perhaps the tastiest meals (and certainly the cheapest) I
had there were the ones I ate on the street. It’s difficult to choose, but among the best were the fish sandwiches
served off the boat in Eminonu, the fried mussels on Cicek Pasaji, and simit, a warm, circular, sesameseed-covered
bread, which is sold from carts on almost every corner.
Eating Istanbul
From Kebabs to Fried Mussels to Suleiman the Magnificent’s 1539 Feast
By Michael Lukas
Depending on who you ask, Istanbul is between one-and-a-half and two times as big as New York City. Home to
between 10 and 14 million stomachs, the former Ottoman capital has more restaurants than any one man could
sample in a lifetime. With a little less than a week, I set out to eat my way through the city — from kebabs to
dolmas, baklavah, ice cream, and fried mussels. I ate it all, and in the process, fell in love. There were bad meals of
course. But as a whole, Istanbul’s food rivals that of any city I’ve eaten in.
On the advice of a Turkish-American comparative literature Ph.D. student I met at the airport, I headed directly to
Haci Abdullah’s, a spotless traditional Turkish restaurant decorated with big jars of preserved artichokes and
carrots. Haci Abdullah’s, which has been around since 1888, is the kind of restaurant where the waiters guide
bewildered tourists to glass cases from which they can choose their meals. But, over-confident eater that I am, I
ordered directly off the menu.This proved to be a mistake. The mixed dolmas — green pepper, zucchini, cabbage,
and grape leaves stuffed with a spicy meat filling —were excellent. But the mashed eggplant tasted like instant
mashed potatoes mixed with baba ganoush, and Haci Abdullah’s “Special Yoghurt,” although quite good, was just
plain yoghurt. (Haci Abdullah, 17 Sakizagaci Caddesi, Beyoglu Istanbul, 90-212-293-85-61; most dishes priced
between $7 and $10.)
The next night, armed with a glowing recommendation from Fodor’s and a bit more caution, I travelled back four
centuries to an Ottoman restaurant called Asitane. A number of establishments around the city claim to have
Ottoman dishes on the menu, but none take Ottoman cuisine quite so seriously as this minimally elegant restaurant.
According to its menu, Asitane has “hunted down lost tastes with academic zeal,” consulting budget ledgers and
memoirs of foreign diplomats to “retrieve authentic Ottoman recipes.”
More than half the menu is comprised of dishes served by Suleiman the Magnificent at a feast given in 1539 to
honor his son’s circumcision. While the goose kebab and stuffed quince with grape syrup looked appealing, I
couldn’t resist choosing dishes from the circumcision feast — coconut almond soup, honey apricot lamb stewed in a
traditional guvech pot, and kizil barmak, a honey-coated, finger-size pastry coated with crumbled pistachios. At the
end of each course, my waiter asked me, “Was it delicious?” Each time, I could honestly say yes. (Asitane, 18
Kariye Camii Sokak, Edirnekapi Istanbul, 90-212-534-84-14; most dishes priced between $12 and $18.)
Although I generally dislike the idea of hotel restaurants, I had heard from a number of sources that the Four
Seasons’ Istanbul is the best kitchen in Turkey and among the best Four Seasons in Europe. So I was ready to
swallow my prejudice and go, until Nihan Korkmaz, a Turkish friend of mine, persuaded me not to. “The cook is
Italian,” she said scornfully.
As an alternative, she suggested Chocolate, a hip new bistro in the Ritz Carlton frequented by Turkish models and
movie stars. Taking her advice, I bought a new shirt, took some money out of the ATM, and headed over to
Chocolate at the fashionable hour of 9 p.m. I can’t say whether there were any models or movie stars there that
night. But I can say that the food was quite poor. Ordering off a menu that belonged at TGIFriday’s (dominated by
cocktails, pasta, and hamburgers) I chose a “lamb skewer with Persian rice with dill in phyllo pastry.” What I got
was a lukewarm $15 dollar lamb wrap with fries. (Chocolate, 15 Askerocagi Caddesi, Sishli Istanbul, 90-212-334-
44-44.)
I had far better luck at restaurants serving local specialties such as kebab, doner, and kofte (also known as Turkish
meatballs). Almost all the grilled meat I ate in Istanbul was fresh off the grill, perfectly seasoned, and cheap. The
best of a number of good restaurants are Meshur Bursa Kebapcisi and Meshur Sultanahmet Koftecisi (meshur
means famous). Both are places where every patron tends to order the same thing: at Meshur Sultanahmet Koftecisi
it’s the kofte, and at Meshur Bursa Kebapcisi it’s the iskander doner, thinly sliced meat served over flat bread
soaked in a tomato yoghurt sauce. At both restaurants, $5 gets you meat, salad, and an ayran,a thin, salty yoghurt
drink that perfectly balances the salty heat of grilled meat. (Meshur Bursa Kebapcisi, 45 Istiklal Caddesi, Beyoglu
Istanbul, 90-212-249-93-72; Meshur Sultanahmet Koftecisi, 12 Divan Yolu, Sultanahmet Istanbul, 90-212-513-
14-38.)
Following my meal at Meshur Bursa Kebapcisi, I walked down the street to Saray Muhallebicileri to try the famous
sutlach, a rice pudding that people say is the best dessert in the country. On my way out, I ran into a well-dressed
Turkish businessman who had been sitting next to me in Meshur Bursa Kebapcisi, also eating iskander doner.
“Sutlach?” he asked looking at my bag. I nodded. Smiling, he gave me the thumbs up. Saray also serves a selection
of syrupy, pistachio-filled baklavah that are reason enough to book a ticket to Istanbul. (Saray Muhallebicileri,102
Istiklal Caddesi, Beyoglu Istanbul, 90-212-292-34-34.)
Another reason is Turkish ice cream, a gummy concoction unlike anything I have ever eaten, served out of copper
tubs by men dressed in red and gold uniforms. Or kazandibi, a gooey burnt cross between toffee and tapioca. And,
of course, Turkish Delights. I usually don’t like them much, but the Turkish Delights at Ali Muhiddin Haci Bekir
(where the confection was invented) really are a delight. (Ali Muhiddin Haci Bekir, 27 Hamidiye Caddesi, Eminonu
Istanbul, 90-212-245-13-75.)
Istanbul has an amazing array of sit-down restaurants, but perhaps the tastiest meals (and certainly the cheapest) I
had there were the ones I ate on the street. It’s difficult to choose, but among the best were the fish sandwiches
served off the boat in Eminonu, the fried mussels on Cicek Pasaji, and simit, a warm, circular, sesameseed-covered
bread, which is sold from carts on almost every corner.