The black tables – the ones in front of the veteran Fazil Bey Kahvesi – used to be white until they were replaced when a gaggle of upstart neighboring cafes put out their own white tables, presumably hoping to siphon off some of Fazil Bey’s business. Next door is Yavuz Bey and next to that Hurrem Efendi and just across the street Niyazi Bey, all serving Turkish coffee and seating customers at the same white marble tables. Buyrun!

In Istanbul, fads burn white hot and competition can be comically ruthless. Be it coffee or mojitos, you’ll see butcher shops, bookstores and pharmacies retrofitted overnight to capitalize on the latest popular trend. We even know one (now former) barber, Suleyman, who recently hung up his shears, donned a fez and turned his barbershop into place to squeeze and sell fruit juice.

We’re all for free enterprise and open competition, but the mushrooming of cafes on Fazil Bey’s street sets up a dangerous trap that many of us could fall into. Turkish coffee is Turkish coffee and the tables are all natural stone anyway, a visitor to this stretch of Kadikoy might think, so what could be the big difference?

There’s only one way to find out. Patiently wait for one of those black-topped tables to open and order yourself an orta sekerli (medium sweet) and you will experience what it means to sip a truly superior coffee. At Fazil Bey, they roast their own Brazilian beans to a preferred (dark) color on the premises and grind them throughout the day into a fine powder, as Turkish coffee requires. Before even taking down the copper cezve to make a cup of coffee, Fazil Bey already has a leg up on most of the competition, who buy their coffee pre-ground from distributors.

Freshness is a big factor but the in-house roasting is a tradition that goes back to the shop’s foundation in the 1920’s. According to Murat Celik, Fazil Bey’s roaster of thirty years, respect for this shop’s tradition is an important ingredient in a good cup. “Around here, you’ve got taxi drivers and kokorec vendors who quit that job and start making coffee,” he scoffed. “This is our grandfather’s profession.”

At Fazil Bey we do believe the coffee is superior, but it’s the ritualistic experience here that we really enjoy. The tiny shop itself is like a sanctuary, with every nook and cranny filled with something precious and coffee-related. The intoxicating smell of fresh ground coffee wafts around the room like incense. Every detail of the service – the small metal service trays, the porcelain coffee cups with the Fazil Bey logo, small glasses of water and the square of lokum served alongside – adds up to one powerful cup of coffee. Sipping a coffee here, you can feel their respect for the coffee-making tradition and the generations that upheld it in this shop. That’s something that can’t be imitated with furniture.

Address: Serasker Caddesi 1A, Kadikoy
Telephone: +902164502870

(photo by Ansel Mullins)

(photo by Ansel Mullins)

Another line in the article stopped us cold. “I couldn’t help myself thinking, ‘Where are the old watering holes?’ with their rakı etiquette and their meze varieties,” the author wrote, as if some strange plague had swept across Istanbul and somehow made the city’s old-school meyhanes vanish. In response, we thought we’d offer a list of five of our favorite meyhanes, places that despite bans on smoking and outdoor seating and ever-rising liquor taxes, still manage to keep the old-time spirit of the “raki sofrasi” (literally “the raki table”) alive. Although the meze and booze flow at these places, these are not culinary destinations, per se. The food is good, but the real attraction here is to be part of the time-honored ritual of sitting down with friends, cracking a bottle (or two) of raki open and enjoying a long night of good conversation while small plate after small plate of food magically arrives at the table. Those are “norms” we can definitely live with.

Çukur Meyhanesi: When Liver Met Hamsi
It wasn’t quite as dramatic as Meg Ryan’s big moment at Katz’s deli in “When Harry Met Sally,” but a low-register, guttural moan of pleasure was detected from our table upon our tasting of the shredded celery root in yogurt, a house specialty meze at Beyoglu’s Çukur Meyhanesi. And we weren’t faking it.

We stop into scores of meyhanes, or traditional Turkish tavernas, and eat more yogurt mezethan we care to report, all for the sake of finding that one masterful meze among the goopy masses. Most meze in Istanbul are fine, but very few can be considered orgasmic….(to read the rest of the review click here)

Inciralti: Meyhane Time Machine
We like to think of Inciralti, a laid back meyhane in the sleepy Bosphorus-side Beylerbeyi neighborhood, as a destination restaurant – not so much because of the food, but because of the destination itself.

Not that there’s anything wrong with the food here, which is reliably well made. The meze tray at Inciralti (which means “under the fig tree” in Turkish) is brought to your table carrying all the classics, plus a few welcome and tasty surprises, such as the zingy brined twigs of the caper plant and a sea bass filet that had been cured in a piquant sauce redolent of curry. Among the excellent mains we had sea bass again, this time grilled wrapped inside grape vine leaves, and meltingly soft uykuluk (sweetbreads), that were also grilled and dusted with oregano and red pepper. Both were winners.

But it’s Inciralti’s location that will have us coming back, especially if we’re looking for an opportunity to take an excursion without leaving Istanbul….(to read the rest of this review, click here)

Mohti: All that Laz
“My heart starts pounding when a pregnant lady enters the room,” said Huseyin, the artist turned owner/operator of Mohti, a new “Laz Meyhane” in the back of the backstreets of the Asmalimescit area. While this might sound to some like the unsavory confession of a man with an exotic fetish, to us it was a breath of fresh air, redolent with the old-style charm of a classic meyhane patron, something that’s increasingly harder to come across these days.

There was a time when every meyhane around here had a true character at the helm, someone who knew how to work the crowd, comp a drink and indulge in the art of hospitality every night. Now, sadly, as Asmalimescit and other traditional dining zones go upmarket, the only trace of that old school proprietorship is found in yellowed photos on wall.  In this context, Huseyin — a boisterous host in an exceedingly sterile market — is almost as odd a fit as Mohti’s concept: thoroughly home-style Black Sea cooking in a meyhane setting….(To read more of this review, click here)

Salkim Meyhanesi: At the Car Wash
Like any place with real character, this spot is better known by its nickname: “the carwash meyhane.” Located, naturally, above a now defunct carwash, this small, no-frills meyhane — more commonly referred to as “otoyikamacinin ustu” or “Erkal’in Yeri” – is amicably run by a group of brothers who hail from eastern Turkey’s city of Van and who keep the place humming with a distinct sense of good cheer. A tiny kitchen in back, barely big enough to hold the one chef works inside it, turns out a constant stream of lip smacking pan-fried liver and grilled fish.
Address: Suslu Saksi Sok. #27a, Beyoglu (across from the Sakizagaci taxi stand)
(no phone)

Yazin ve Sanat Kooperatif: The Alchemist Returns
We had previously written about the unalloyed meyhane magic we experienced every time we ate at the boisterous Taksim restaurant run by the local branch of Turkey’s Metallurgist Union. Sadly, the place closed down not that long ago, but there’s a happy ending to the story. The heart and soul of the metallurgists’ spot was not metallurgy, but Huseyin bey, the host, an affable  and ever-present man from the Eastern Black Sea. Since the closure of the metallurgists’ meyhane, he’s migrated over to a spot run by his wife near the Beyoglu police station. He brought with him the metallurgist vibe and many of his old customers. Same menu, same comically low prices, same ban on the smoking ban in effect. We had some very nice lakerda and grilled barbunya there, as well and the popcorn-like fried “sole”.

A migrant from Malatya in Eastern Turkey who hustled tea near the Egyptian Bazaar as a boy, by the mid 1990’s he lorded over an empire of kokoreç stands – 33 at its peak – walked his own production floor, drove a white Mercedes (“when that model was in style,” Vahap Usta pointed out) and counted more than 50 tuxedos in his closet. Beyond the financial gain, though, Vahap Usta was a cult figure – the Willy Wonka of kokoreç – who helped make this street food iconic. And then he disappeared. “Vahap Usta is like a kite without a string. You never know where he will end up,” said Vahap’s old neighbor, optician Bilgin Bilgic, to the Aksam Newspaper in 2003.

The legend of Vahap Usta lives on in Facebook pages (“Vahap Usta Neredesin?/Where are you Vahap Usta?” asks one) and through claims of recent sightings and nostalgic blog posts of encounters long past. But for quite a while no one seemed to know what exactly happened to the kokoreç King himself. Our attention was brought to this story by friend and fellow trencherman Salih abi, author of the great food blog Harbi Yiyorum. We followed false leads for a year before we finally found Vahap Usta, working at his kokoreç counter on a commercial strip in the Sisli neighborhood.

So what happened to Vahap Usta? He sighed and removed his reading glasses, which, we noticed, were missing one arm.  “Nobody can lose money the way I can. It is an art form,” he said flashing a grin.

Though he says that he was the first to grill long thick rolls of kokoreç over coals as a street food, we’ve found evidence to the contrary. And there is no way to verify the claim that he sold around 12,000 kokoreç sandwiches and a truckful of ayran every day from his cart, because, like many things about Vahap Usta, his books are not available for review.

But we do know that Vahap Usta’s boom coincided with a wave of kokoreç popularity, when its image transformed from a somewhat obscure street food into a staple of Turkish pop culture. At the time, conflict in Eastern Turkey raged, Turgut Ozal, then prime minister of Turkey, was selling state assets like hot potatoes and Istanbul’s population doubled (again). As Turkey’s largest city and economic powerhouse, Istanbul was rapidly modernizing and experienced serious growing pains. Fortunes were made and lost along the way. On the streets of Istanbul, meanwhile, a revolution was taking place, with the business principles of western fast food meeting the flavors of traditional Turkish street fare to create a wholly unique hybrid. Did Vahap Usta start the revolution? Did he ride a wave originated elsewhere (at Hamburger University in Oak Brook Ill, perhaps)? What was the situation of street food in Istanbul, and Istanbul itself, in the 1980’s and 90’s that would encourage a man with no experience to declare himself a master of an old trade and model his business on Colonel Sanders?

The answers to these questions lie within the story of Vahap Usta. In this series we’ll try to unravel the rise, fall and possible rebirth of this ambitious culinary entrepreneur, the P.T. Barnum of grilled intestines, and see what created the kokoreç king and, beyond that, his kingdom.

In the meantime, if you’d like to drop in for a kokoreç, Vahap Usta is set up in front of Emek Kebabi in Sisli:
Address: Abide-I Hurriyet Caddesi 124, Sisli
Telephone: +90212 2341065

(photo by Ansel Mullins)

We’re especially fond of the islands in springtime, when their Judas, Mimosa and wild plum trees are starting to bloom and a walk along one of their tranquil trails serves as the perfect cure for the lingering effects of the Istanbul winter blues. Of course, a good meal is essential any time of the year and we’ve been lucky enough to find a few spots on the islands that are worthy destinations in and of themselves. For those planning a visit to the Princes’ Islands, some suggestions below:

Burgazada – Kalpazankaya Restaurant
Burgazada is the smallest and least visited of the Princes’ Islands. The island has few easily accessible beaches and picnic spots, but what it does have is a laid back atmosphere and several charming waterfront restaurants and cafes in the harbor. Better yet, Burgaz is home to Kalpazankaya Restaurant, an out-of-the-way, open-air meyhane on the island’s backside that will quickly help you forget about the crowded mass of humanity left behind on the ferry.

Getting to Kalpazankaya is easy: take the road that leads to the right when leaving the ferry terminal and continue walking along that road for about 30 minutes until it comes to an end. In front of you, sitting in splendid isolation on a hillside overlooking the blue waters of the Marmara Sea and a small pebble beach below, is the restaurant, a collection of vine-shaded terraces with rickety wooden tables and chairs…. (Click here to read the rest of the review)

Heybeliada – Heyamola Ada Lokantasi
The new-offshore-kid-in-town, Heyamola Ada Lokanatasi, is a perfect storm of inspired food, chill ambiance, and small-label Turkish wines, all at ridiculously low prices. Heyamola is reason in and of itself to plan a day trip to the Prince’s Islands, and if you are already organizing your island adventure, this place is a compelling argument for ditching the ferry at Heybeli Island, often overlooked in favor of the more popular Buyukada….(Click here to read the rest of the review)

Buyukada – Club Mavi
Considering you’re on an island, you probably want to eat somewhere with a view of the sea. Most visitors to Buyukada end up getting lured to the row of busy fish restaurants found just beside Buyukada’s ferry terminal. All have seaside terraces with a view of Istanbul’s rapidly developing Asian shore (and of the occasional piece of urban flotsam and jetsam that drifts by) and similar, predictable menus with decently made, but uninspiring food.

A more pleasant (but not cheap) island experience, though, can be had by hailing one of Buyukada’s numerous horse carriages and asking the driver to take you to Club Mavi, a restaurant and hotel located inside a rambling old house on the island’s undeveloped backside…. (Click here to read the rest of this review)

Buyukada – SofrAda
One of the questions that we frequently ask ourselves during visits to Buyukada is just where do the locals eat? The seaside fish restaurants are too pricey, while even the “budget” places away from the sea are clearly aimed at the tourist trade.

We recently found the answer to our question in the form of SofrAda Restoran, a homey version of an esnaf lokanta, located on a small side street near the aromatic lot where the horse carriages are parked while their drivers wait for rides….(Click here to read the rest of the review)

We were then equally puzzled a couple of weeks ago to see a new hamburger restaurant, with the same décor, menu style and a suspiciously similar logo open in the same location. We can’t speak for the food, but in the category of originality, Roll Burger scores very low.

Skulking around Beyoglu, thinking about the injustice visited upon our friends at Mano, we turned the corner at Asmali Mescit, and, like a mirage, saw hanging off the side of a building the sign of Mano Burger – the real Mano Burger.

We stopped in for one of their classic “Oxnard” burgers, fries and a chat with the management about what happened. In the previous location in Tunel, it seems the municipality had complaints about their ventilation system, which often left the square smelling like one big grilled patty. When they extended the chimneys up above the roof, the whirling dervish museum right behind them complained about the unpleasant view from their yard. Stuck between the angry dervishes and municipal inspectors licking their chops, the Mano team decided to leave the Tunel location and moved over to Asmali Mescit Caddesi.

So what about Roll Burger?

Mano’s old landlord seemed to think there was still good burger-flipping potential in the shop despite its ventilator blues. Apparently hoping to retain Mano’s traffic, he opened Roll Burger right on their heels. The Mano crew isn’t pleased with Roll Burger’s ambush but remains confident that it won’t hinder their business or their claim to be the best burger in town. “The flavor is here and people know that,” said Mano manager Cihad bey.

Address: Asmali Mescit Caddesi 7, Beyoglu
Telephone: +902122927542

(photos by Ansel Mullins)

For those New Yorkers who are planning a visit to Istanbul and want to try hamsi in its natural habitat, a roundup of our five six favorite spots to eat the little fish in Istanbul can be found here. Hurry up, though: the impending arrival of summer also means the end of hamsi season.

We soon set out for the Kurtulus neighborhood and Goreme Muhallebecisi, the tipster’s spot, like bloodhounds on the trail. But as we made our way up the area’s Ergenekon Caddesi, we suddenly found ourselves within the cozy fold of this unique district. The pudding shop was our destination but we slowed down and explored the neighborhood’s main commercial drag and its pleasantly straight residential side streets that slop off toward Dolapdere. In a city of awe-inspiring vistas, Kurtulus does not rank very high. Lacking any visual appeal, the neighborhood doesn’t attract much interest from the outside world, which is probably the way locals here like it.

“When my grandfather came here in 1950 selling milk door to door, the neighborhood was all Rum [the Turkish term for local Greeks] and Armenian,” explained Ilhan Yalcin, the current owner and operator of Goreme Muhallebecisi, which opened in 1965. “We still have some customers who remember my grandfather delivering milk to their house, but the younger generations didn’t stay. Too much traffic,” he supposes with a shrug. “Of course, most of the Rum left after the events in 1955,” Ilhan quickly added, referring to a violent spasm of looting and destruction in September of that year which targeted local minorities. Mass immigration to Greece following the pogroms effectively brought an end to the Greek community in Istanbul and forever changed the urban fabric of Istanbul.

But as much as Kurtulus society may have changed in the last half century we could feel the direct lineage to an older and more genteel kind of Istanbul neighborhood life. Outside a jewelry shop, old Istanbul jentilmen in ties and fedoras sat on folding chairs, chatting in the sun. Nearby, a group of intensely quaffed ladies burst out of a flower shop all at once filling the sidewalk with their bodies and the unmistakable sound of the Turkish spoken by the Rum. In a rapidly growing and changing Istanbul, this is a neighborhood with an old and healthy soul.

It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that that a good part of that soul was nurtured on the sublime tavuk göğsü and kazandibi (literally, “bottom of the pot,” a chicken-free milk pudding with a delicious caramelized/burnt bottom) at Goreme. On a recent visit, the small, bright shop was half-full on a midweek afternoon. Three or four generations sat comfortably in the same room enjoying a pudding or something else from the short menu that hasn’t changed in half a century. Ilhan bey brought over an order of kazandibi, the pudding spade sat beside it hinting at the stretchiness beneath the browned skin. It, like the tavuk göğsü, was just as stretchy as promised but also mildly sweet and cool on the teeth. After the shock and awe of the stretchiness wore off, we were left most impressed by the creamy notes of this pudding.

Paying the bill, we coaxed Ilhan to share his secret. He told us he was just following a simple recipe left to him by his grandfather, in which the most important item is fresh milk delivered daily. That’s it: just follow the recipe, use the freshest ingredients and no shortcuts.

In this city of shopping malls and their food courts, trans-continental metro tunnels and other crazy projects, most Istanbul entrepreneurs have little time for grandfather’s old ways. They’re looking for projects of scale and mass production. Meanwhile consumers yearn for the previous generation, when true esnaf, or small shopkeepers, dominated the market and played a crucial role in the life of a community.

In Ilhan’s case, his grandfather shared with him the secret to a good stretchy tavuk göğsü and kazandibi. It’s not flashy, but it turns out to be the recipe for a lasting business model.

Address: Kurtulus Caddesi 82, Kurtulus (Sisli)
Telephone: +902122465367

(photo by Ansel Mullins)

(Editor’s Note: In the midst of the excitement over our recent Saveur Magazine “Best Food Blog” nomination, we forgot to properly mark Istanbul Eats’ third anniversary. In honor of the occasion, we are rerunning our first post, which ran on April 1, 2009. Thank you to all our readers who have supported our explorations of Istanbul’s culinary backstreets over these three years and stay tuned for more.)

The no-frills Lades 2 presents diners with that age-old question: what to eat first, the chicken or the eggs? This restaurant – a Turkish version of the American-style greasy spoon diner – specializes in all things fowl, from chicken soup, to a variety of egg dishes and even a dessert that, we kid you not, weds a thick, milky pudding with chicken. Even the name – “lades” means wishbone in Turkish – follows the chicken theme.

Lades 2 is located on a side street off the busy pedestrian-only Istiklal Cadessi, in a lively area filled with cafes and small nightclubs specializing in Turkish folk music. Across the street is the original Lades, a more respectable joint that serves classic Turkish food to a busy lunch crowd (and worth a visit in its own right). Lades 2 has a more proletarian vibe, with tables of mostly unaccompanied men scarfing down their food in a kind of monastic silence, broken only by the waiters shouting to the two short-order cooks in the back. (Click here to read the rest of this archived review)