In the back of Osman’s truck, with the winter sun reflecting off of the Golden Horn just 20 feet from the hitch, the subject of discussion on a recent afternoon was freedom. “Commerce has ruined the free spaces, the nature within this city,” said Osman from behind the counter, located in the back of the covered truck’s cargo area, now converted into a cozy café, with low tables and padded benches. “There’s no pleasure in it!” added Mehmet, whose role here seemed to fall between maitre d’ and mascot. A young man speaking beyond his years, he must have grown up hearing stories of bygone Istanbul when there were woods, shorelines and historic ruins teeming with free spirits and enterprise of all sorts. He stood at the truck’s gate wearing a bright yellow sweater and loudly ordered us a tea from Osman when we stepped into the truck. He swigged at a fat brown bottle of Efes and spoke of this place as his own though.

“At least we are free down here,” he said.

Shanty businesses, like Osman’s, used to crowd the shorelines of Istanbul. Many of the celebrated fish restaurants from Arnavutkoy up to Tarabya started as floating pirate restaurants grilling up the day’s catch rent-free. Then the municipality banned such activity, and these fishermen reluctantly joined society, shifting to land-based businesses.

But down in Karakoy, on that lonely stretch west of the Galata Bridge, the spirit of freedom lives on unhindered in Osman’s truck. “It’s not easy to come down here and tangle with a man’s business,” said Osman, explaining how his business operates. His roots in that very spot go back three generations. His grandfather and father spent their working lives piloting the rough and lovely water taxis that run between here and Eminonu. Quite naturally, the small dock and its environs came to feel like an extension of the family’s living room. But to us, Osman’s truck feels just like the little bar in the finished basement of a beloved uncle – a fully stocked clubhouse.

Most of the time Osman slings cay to the boat captains and beers to Mehmet and his ilk. On one recent afternoon a teenager sat quietly on one of the upholstered benches at the mouth of the truck taking a break from his job at a paint shop around the corner. No cay, no beer. He didn’t pick up the deck of cards on the table nor did he chat. He just sat there and soaked in the afternoon sun for twenty minutes and left without a word. Freedom!

In the summertime, after some renovations are complete on the interior, Osman says anything is possible. He’ll exercise his right to grill fish and serve raki to anyone interested. He’s open to the idea of special events and thinks that there might be film crews coming to film something.

He pooh-poohed the thought of the rumored Galata Port project or other development endeavors that threaten to privatize this area, but didn’t doubt what some people will do for money. “In Istanbul, anything’s possible,” he said.

How true, we thought. In Istanbul, even a cup of tea in the back of a rogue tea truck with a priceless view is still possible.

Address: Golden Horn water taxi dock to Eminonu, Karakoy
No phone

(photo by Ansel Mullins)

(Editor’s Note: This guest post was provided to us by Olga Tikhonova, who writes a wonderful blog about Istanbul food and life in Turkey. To her credit, Olga has managed to track down what had long been a holy grail for Istanbul chowhounds: a local restaurant serving authentic Georgian food.)

For a while I have been skeptical about ethnic food in Istanbul: local tastes usually turned any restaurant serving foreign cuisine into something that was only a slight modification of traditional Turkish food. Yet recently I discovered a Georgian eatery producing authentic flavors without worrying too much about local tastes.

Emniyet Garajı, the massive bus terminal in Aksaray, sees hundreds of people coming and going every day from Georgia. Around the bus terminal you will find the essential infrastructure in place: ticket offices of bus companies, currency exchange booths and a few eateries. Everyone speaks Georgian. “It’s like a little Georgia here,” tells me Maho, a Georgian friend of mine. Georgia is only 24 hours and $50 away, which sounds like a good deal to Maho’s countrymen, attracted to Turkey by the poor economic situation in their country. Many are happy to make the trip to Istanbul and take up a seasonal job here to support their families back home.

I met Maho through some local friends and before yet another visa run he invited us to a restaurant. Sitting down for a meal and a few drinks is a big deal in Georgia, with arrivals and departures of all sorts being mandatory occasions to do so. 

A five-minute walk away from the Emniyet Garaj we stumbled upon a spot graced with a sign that said “Cafe Euro.” While I considered heading onwards, Maho pulled me by the sleeve. “Here we are!” he said. We entered a place with a couple of simple tables and chairs occupied by a bunch of smoking men. Dyed-blond hostess Eka behind the counter cheek-kissed with Maho, indicating a certain familiarity between the two.

“My cousin used to worked here. Was good money, you know,” Maho explained. “Why did she leave?” I asked. “She was tired of drunken brawls and fights on weekends,” he replied. I thought of a dramatic difference between an ethnic eatery that interprets foreign flavors for the enjoyment of the local public and a place that serves the original thing to immigrants. Cafe Euro has clearly got enough publicity among Georgians in Istanbul not to worry about catering to locals.

Meanwhile, things started materialize on the table. First came the plates, knifes, forks, water glasses and tiny tea glasses with no tea. A small plastic bottle of a transparent liquid arrived. Maho opened it and poured some into the tea glasses. If you are familiar with the concept of homemade vodka you may be interested in trying chacha, proudly brewed in each self-respecting Georgian household. Otherwise you should stick to something commercially produced.

Such as tarkhun. Tarkhun is a carbonated drink deep green in color based on the extract of tarragon, a green plant with a slight hint of anise. Tarkhun is the invention of a Georgian pharmacist in late 19th century which got a new life as a mass-produced carbonated drink in the Soviet Union. The drink was our Sprite, just million times better, if you ask me.

Soon the food started arriving. There is no menu at Cafe Euro: just like any Georgian restaurant it features the same range of specialties and assumes you know what you want.
First arrived khachapuri, Georgian savory pies which immediately showcased both the simplicity of the flavors and the heights of the cook’s skills. Piping hot, they are sliced into segments revealing the generous quantity of cottage cheese stuffed inside. The leavened dough tastes just like the grandma would make – a little sour and nicely buttery. A couple of bites down I was perfectly full and happy about having submitted to the Maho’s requests of coming here. Then the lobio arrived.

Lobio is a Georgian bean dish that can be served as a side dish or as a stew. Either way, the dish is made up of a combination of red kidney beans, tender cilantro and the tangy touch of garlic. The garlic bites your palate, while the beans smooth things over and the smell of cilantro adds sophistication. Cafe Euro made a hearty side verion of lobio and after eating one serving I thought I couldn’t eat any more that night. And then the khinkali arrived on the table.

Khinkali are Georgian dumplings featuring assorted stuffings of either minced meat, potatoes or cottage cheese (with meat being definitely the most popular). While belonging to the same family as Turkish manti, khinkali provide a different eating experience. Think of them as dough sacks in a size of a large fig hiding a significant amount of meat inside. The dough puffs as it boils and makes space for a delicious broth to develop inside. The idea is to eat khinkali without losing any of the broth. Just like figs, khinkali have a little neat tail on top. You grab them by this tail, turn the dumpling upside down and take a small bite from the side where the broth has collected (careful, its very hot). The ladies at Cafe Euro clearly know what they are doing as the dough is thin, the meat plenty, and the broth delicious.

“There are a few other Georgian places around but everyone comes here,” Maho notes with satisfaction after the third shot of chacha. I could see why. Cafe Euro is probably not the place you would like to end up in on a Saturday or Sunday night – unless you are in a mood for watching a chacha-fueled fight (no kidding). But this is exactly why Cafe Euro remains such a well-kept secret. It’s a Georgian cafe proud enough not to care about the local tastes.



Address: Bostan Sok. (or Bostan Aralığı) Aksaray
Hours: Daily 10 am to the last guest

(photo by Olga Tikhonova)

Merih, in fact, is the polar opposite of most of its neighbors, a homey refuge for neighborhood locals looking for good food without too much fuss (and without paying too much). Like a good Italian trattoria or French Bistro, Merih is the kind of place that you wouldn’t think twice about dropping into for a quick – or extended – meal, with friendly yet professional service, top-notch food and affordable booze to wash it down with.

In business since 1972, Merih very much evokes that era, the walls lined with wood paneling, a large painting of a dapper Mustafa Kemal Ataturk prominently displayed, and long rows of raki bottles lined up on shelves like trophies. While the restaurant may be a meyhane, most of Merih’s regulars do away with the meze tray business and head straight to the kitchen in the back, where a small steam table holds an assortment of prepared dishes and a large glass-lined cooler displays the day’s appetizers and a selection of meats ready to be grilled.

Merih may be low-key, but its kitchen means business, turning out superb renditions of meyhane classics. The restaurant’s pilaki (white beans in a tomato sauce) was among the finest we’ve had in a long time, the not-too-soft beans having a very satisfying bite to them, the sauce they were in amped up by a generous amount of garlic. An order of fresh spinach stewed in olive oil, served with a dollop of tangy yogurt, showed the same level of attention to taste. Sigara boregi (phyllo dough wrapped around tangy white cheese) are often brought to the table looking as if they had been fried in motor oil salvaged from an auto repair shop. Here they came out golden, crisp and utterly delicious. Our main course, lamb kebab, was another highlight, the meat tender, juicy and expertly grilled. Even dessert, a traditional milk pudding flavored with mastic, seemed to pack an extra gustatory punch.

We finished our dinner feeling deeply satisfied and thinking Merih is the kind of place we could come back to every day. We suspect that is exactly what many of the other folks eating there that night actually do.

Address: Kamer Hatun Cad. No: 5/A
Telephone: +90-212-245-4325

(photo by Ansel Mullins)

If Adem Baba commands a battery of grillers in its three locations, Hayri Balik is more of a one-man show, the leaky rowboat of fish restaurants. On a recent visit, every few minutes the dining room went dark, raising the blood pressure of Hayri, who stomped over from the kitchen to the switch, located right next to the light for the bathroom, to flip the lights back on. Indeed, without him there could not even be light at Hayri Balik.

Speaking with Hayri we felt certain that he wouldn’t serve anything that he wouldn’t gladly sit down and enjoy himself. And you won’t catch Hayri calling anyone “efendi” or clearing the plates too quickly. If anything, it seems he’s about to sit down and eat with you.

So in Hayri’s hands, we felt comfortable to dig into the forbidden fruit of the Bosphorus straits, midye dolma, or stuffed mussels. Back in Beyoglu’s side streets, huge plates of mussels stacked three deep are ferried around on the head of young boys. Late at night, men crowd around these boys, squeezing lemon on the half shells and shooting the contents back with liquid courage and machismo pushing them along. As tempting as this snack on the go may look, we’ve seen the grim shucking rooms in Tarlabasi basements. There is probably a good reason that the mussel boys flee the scene when a cop turns the corner.

We are careful where we eat our stuffed mussels, but when given the green light, we can really indulge. At Hayri, the medley of rice, currants, pine nuts were informed by the fragrance of the sea, almost within view, and cinnamon. It is an intoxicating bite that wasn’t lost on a cat that prowled our way as the pile of spent shells accumulated at the center of the table.

With another drink we inquired about the fish. Bluefish? Grouper? Sole?

Hayri cut us short with a smile and suggested we have the istavrit, or horse mackerel. He told us that he’d just picked them up from a local boat and they looked great. So we ate the istavrit fried, a fresh little salad with shaved carrots and cabbage on the side.  The sweet flesh of the fish flaked from the bone easily leaving something to toss to the cat. Hayri does have more fish on offer most days but he’ll tell you what to order regardless of what the menu says.

A fling with Hayri cannot challenge our devotion to Adem Baba and the two remain incomparable in our minds. But every so often, when we are feeling frisky, we’ll sneak over for a bit of the Hayri experience, shamelessly.

Address: Satis Meydani 7, Arnavutkoy
Telephone: (212) 263-4875

(photo by Ansel Mullins)

(Editor’s Note: This guest post was written by “Meliz,” an intrepid explorer of Istanbul’s culinary backstreets who would like to keep her anonymity.)

While the Princes’ Islands make for a great escape from the city, it’s been hard to think of them as a culinary destination. Until now. 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. So let’s get to the nitty-gritty…

The meze tray rolls twenty deep, and shifts with the season; during a first visit, in May, the meze selection revolved around the herbs and greens chef Semra Hanim was foraging on-island – a wild fennel sauté and a nettle and black-cumin-seed salad being the two that truly blew my mind.  Semra Hanim ran one of the best places on the Datca Penninsula for years, and she has a genius for innovative takes on Aegean standards. Her partner in the kitchen, Esra Hanim, worked for years at Bi’ Lokma in Kas, and her touch can be tasted in the slow-cooking side of the tray. For example, in the richness of the cevizli kabak (walnut and zucchini) meze and in the exquisite creaminess of the patlican salatasi (eggplant salad) – usually a meze tray workhorse, but here something much, much more profound. The cold meze cost between 7-10tl a portion. If you go for lunch, I recommend that you ask very nicely if Semra and Esra could put together a tasting selection – small portions of each of the day’s meze.

The hot meze are (as always) more expensive than the tray selections (17-21 tl), but again, for what you are getting, the prices are more than fair. We tried the grilled ahtapot (octopus), a perfectly marinated tentacle of octopus driven up from Cunda Island the night before. One rarely finds a place that does octopus like this, let alone does it well – here they nail it. We also tried the sardalya guvec (fresh-caught sardines stuffed with fresh herbs and stewed in a small terracotta dish with lemon). Clean, flavorful, divine. They do a fish soup that is similarly delicate and delicious.

The main courses are a short-list of great uses of fresh fish. We made quick work of a grilled iskorpit (scorpion-fish) kebab, and I would expect to see bonito and red sea bream showing up on the menu, as they come into season! Whee!

Semra and Esra make desserts to suit the season: all I am saying is, save room, people. For the more mature of us, they do a baked smoky Saganaki cheese with a thin cinnamon crust to it…and this brings us to the wine list.

The owner of Heyamola is a well-traveled epicure, and a true gentleman. He also knows his wine. The wines available at Heyamola are primarily from two Turkish lines: Melen and Ganohora, and on both sides of the list, you get to choose from a number of wines that are a) NOT all basically the same and b) NOT much more expensive than they would at your local supermarket (if Turkish supermarkets stocked wine this good). I am not kidding. We had to ask the waiter if the prices listed were for a glass or a bottle. Most bottles are between 30 and 40 tl, with only the tip-top of the line at 70tl – which, I just want to point out, is the usual restaurant charge for a bottle of the Turkish equivalent of Almaden. Again, go ahead and ask for a recommendation or a taste of the ones you find intriguing.

And not that this is the most important thing, but it does seem worth noting that Heyamola is the exception to the rule that exceptional food and cool décor are mutually exclusive. The indoor space is clean and bright; the outdoor space is dotted with bouganvillea and hydrangea, the location is ideal for people-watching and the tables and chairs are sturdy and comfortable, and well-spaced.

In every way that matters, a great spot to spend an extended afternoon that will easily melt into evening and beyond!

Address: Yali Caddesi (on the ‘kordon’), opposite the IDO (hydrofoil ferry) iskele, Heybeli Island
Telephone: (216) 351-1111

(Editor’s Note: This guest post is by Jennifer Hattam, an American journalist living in Beyoğlu whose personal blog can be found here.)

My first encounters with Turkish fish menus were nothing short of perplexing, and not because levrek (seabass), çupra (seabream), kalkan (turbot), and the like were such unfamiliar names. Spoiled by a steady stream of exotic preparations back home in San Francisco – baked in red curry, encrusted with wasabi peas, topped by green mango salsa, drenched in oniony, mustardy yassa sauce – I had never put much thought to the fish itself.

I’ve come to better appreciate (and more easily identify) fresh fish cooked simply so that its natural flavors shine through, but though I hate to admit it, there’s still something I find a bit yawn-inducing about yet another whole fish with a squirt of lemon, no matter how expertly prepared.

That’s why my eyes went straight to the caramelized levrek on the menu at Lokanta Maya, without even knowing it was a house favorite. And for good reason. The flavors still aren’t flashy, but the hint of sweet orangey goodness in the crispy part of the skin tantalized portions of my taste buds I’d almost forgotten were there.

Jokes about the “two kinds of cheese” in Turkey – white and yellow – are common among the Roquefort-loving expat crowd, but after experiencing what Turkish cheese can taste like when served warm with almond chunks and caramelized onions, I may never complain about beyaz peynir again. My dining companions were equally pleased with their appetizer selections of rich chicken liver pate and mücver (zucchini fritters), lightly fried in a soft batter so the vegetables maintain a satisfyingly stringy texture. A not-outrageously priced Umurbey Sauvignon Blanc topped it all off nicely.

Chef/owner Didem Şenol’s contemporary twist on Turkish fare extends to the dessert menu, where the lemony tang of her crumbly şekerpare added welcome complexity to a dish that can be cloyingly sweet. Refreshing, almost sorbet-like mastic ice cream sandwiched between two wafers of kağıt helva struck a playful note.

Şenol’s focus on local, seasonal ingredients includes some rare on Turkish menus: I’ve seen asparagus so infrequently here that the word for it – kuşkonmaz – was completely unfamiliar. But her food achieves a balance that will satisfy diners’ yens for both tradition and innovation. The atmosphere likewise is stylish – rustic wooden tables, sleek hanging light bulbs – without feeling too posh for its working-class Karaköy location. (Make no mistake, though, this meal will set you back more than a kebab. And reservations are a must even during the week.) The well-trained servers seem happy to speak their excellent English or indulge a foreigner’s not-so-excellent Turkish.

While waiting for my friends to show up for dinner, I browsed through Şenol’s sumptuous cookbook in Turkish and English. Tempted, I nevertheless declined to buy it: There will certainly be another chance on my next visit.

Address: Kemankeş Caddesi No.35/A, Karaköy
Telephone: 0212 252 68 84
Hours: 12pm-5pm, 7pm-11pm; closed Sunday, Monday lunch only

(photo courtesy Lokanta Maya)

(Editor’s Note: In honor of the May Day workers’ holiday, we are rerunning last year’s post that takes a look at the dining possibilities at two union halls, Istanbul style. Happy May 1!)

Gazeteciler Lokali-Beyoglu: The Write Stuff
Journalists in Turkey are notoriously overworked and underpaid (at least that’s what Turkish journalists will tell you). The part of the story they tend to leave out is the free reign they enjoy over Istanbul’s Journalists’ Union lokal, a classic little dining room and clubhouse with an Ottoman-era fireplace, dark wood wainscoting and a ritzy address right on Istiklal Caddesi. This faded elegance, almost entirely lost in Istanbul, sets the stage for a raucous affair that sometimes resembles dinner and at other times a gypsy wedding celebration. On the weekends, journalists and those-in-the-know pack this place for a long meal accompanied by live music.

The set menu includes a bounty of seasonal cold meze, including artichokes stewed in olive oil, pickled beets and smoked eggplant puree. From the hot starters we recommend the sarma, chard leaves stuffed with ground beef and drizzled with garlicky yogurt.  A fresh green salad leads up to the main course crescendo of meat or fish – take your pick, they are both good.

The food is reliably good and the location is excellent, but we think it’s the price of this all you can eat and drink deal that appeals to the hard luck hack. At 60 Lira, it’s a night out even a Turkish journalist can afford.

Address: Istiklal Caddesi 22, 1^st floor, Beyoglu
Telephone: (212) 292-4167

Metalurji Muhendisligi Lokali: Fish Alchemy
We never thought much about metallurgy as a profession. Nor did the concept of union membership ever seem very appealing, with all the meetings and monthly dues. That all changed after a mighty fine night at the Metallurgist Union’s lokal, where dinner can be a communal affair – during our meal a dish of pickled anchovies was sent over by another table of friendly metallurgists. The simple, fresh food here is always tasty and, as all fans of this place point out, very cheap.

About the food, one regular said, “I don’t go there to eat fancy food. I go there to sit at a table with my friends and eat a heaping plate of fried fish.” That about sums up the dining experience: there’s nothing dainty about it but the place has a convivial spirit that seems to infect the entire room as if someone left the laughing gas running.

A few meze – of which the patlican soslu (fried eggplant cubes in a tomato sauce) was our favorite – a large green salad with shredded cabbage and carrots, a plate of fried “chacha” (pinky-sized bait fish), two orders of unidentified but very good boneless white fish that fried up like a catfish, and enough raki to make us giggly and then sleepy cost 25 TL/person. That’s reason enough, for some, to consider a career change, and union membership.

Address: Taksim Caddesi 14, Taksim
Telephone: No phone

(photo by Yigal Schleifer)

On Istiklal Caddesi, we’ve watched han after han fall to a swift and merciless wave of gentrification. The courtyard that led to our favorite notary public in the Narmanli han is now off limits as the building awaits a makeover. The Circle D’Orient, home of Inci Pastanesi, seems to be going the same way. One of our favorite places for a beer, the old theater workers bar in the Atlas Pasaji, is now just a warm memory to us, an office space to others. But just when we thought the whimsy of Bohemian Beyoglu had choked on the chain stores that line Istiklal these days, we spent some time exploring the last bastion of funky Beyoglu han life, the Rumeli Han.

On a recent exploration of the Rumeli Han’s many wings we wandered past the Turkish Communist Party’s HQ, the Indian Cultural Center, a tango dance center, and, on the way in, a knit cap hat vendor that has defiantly occupied the entrance of the grand old building with towering shelves fixed right over the elaborate moldings of the central arcade. On a rainy day, this arcade is a popular place to flout the indoor smoking ban and duck in for a quick cigarette. We spotted a knot of smokers near the A Blok elevator (out of order), all in different uniforms signifying their employer on Istiklal. Apparently in the Rumeli Han, freedom, or actually something closer to mayhem, reigns.

The unruly spirit of Rumeli Han is perhaps best experienced at a music bar that we’d call a roadhouse if it weren’t on the second floor of the han’s C Blok.  It is a rambling series of large rooms forming an “L” shape. The stage sits at one end and a collection of booths on the other, with the bar at the elbow. The interior is neglected in a very pleasant way – paint flakes off the walls and collects on the floor and the old floorboards have been left to creak underfoot.

As casual as Haymatlos might appear on the front end, the backside is a serious operation. The bar has live music every night of the week and much of what’s on stage is a few beats ahead of current trends. Well-known performers of Balkan music, Rembetiko and Turkish jazz play weekly, but, more significantly, the place seems to coax unusually good performances out of no-name groups.

On our first visit to Haymatlos, we were blown away by a bawdy young singer in a red wig playing with a Balkan band. She sang a jazzy song and then started screaming like Ozzy Ozborne on the next one as an accordion honked along behind her. We danced and drank cheap beer all night shoulder to shoulder in a thick Haymatlos crowd. Here in the same swaying room were outcasts from Asmalimescit in dreadlocks and hippy pants, aging leftists, a few slick local “aksamci” and the young and moneyed Beyoglu hip – a demographic snippet of the neighborhood today. Perhaps there is no such thing as bohemian Beyoglu anymore, or maybe it is evolving into something else. Haymatlos, which means “homeless” in German, has a refreshing come-as-you-are approach to nightlife. If the Rumeli Han can only survive the neighborhood’s growing pains, this place might bridge the gap between an older bohemian Beyoglu and the new. Sadly, the cynic in us tells us to enjoy the fun here while it lasts. Haymatlos is bound to be “homeless” indeed just as the Rumeli Han will surely be another shopping mall before long.

(Note: Open every night 4PM-4AM. Happy Hour 4PM-8PM with half price drinks.10-15TL Cover charge)

Address: Istiklal Caddesi 96, Rumeli Han C Blok, 2^nd floor, Beyoglu
Telephone: (532) 676-3943

(interior photos courtesy Haymatlos. Rumeli Han photo by Ansel Mullins)

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.

Huseyin’s confession was elicited one night recently, when we showed up at his meyhane with a pregnant lady in tow. The plan was to have a quick dinner, but Huseyin (pictured below) wasn’t having that. He wanted to see the pregnant lady moan with delight over multiple courses. So our modest order quickly turned into a Laz tour-de-force featuring nearly every item on the menu and one, which happened to be our favorite of the night, that was prepared for the kitchen staff’s meal.

In previous reviews of Laz restaurants we’ve stated our belief that the Laz are actually a long lost clan from Alabama — hence their affinity for what seems like American-style soul food and fiddle music. And like a true southern diner, the mark of a Black Sea restaurant comes in the breadbasket. If there’s cornbread in that basket, the place is probably legit. At Mohti, the bread offering was set to a higher frequency, with fresh chunks of hamsi ekmek alongside the cornbread. Truth be told, Turkish cornbread can often be a bit dry and dense, but when laced with fresh anchovies, it comes alive, as it did at Mohti. Following the hamsi ekmek came tursu kavurma, a plate of sautéed pickled vegetables, and a Black Sea garden omelette made with kale, leeks, and hamsi filets called kaygana. A skillet of muhlama – a fondue-like dish made out of cheese melted in clarified butter – followed, requiring us to pull and stretch the long glistening strands of cheese which we wound up on a fork as if they were pasta.

And then came the surprise final course in the form of large steaming dumplings. Before Huseyin said the word hinkali, we were already having flashbacks of Georgian feasts we’d enjoyed in Tbilisi, Moscow and Tashkent. Even if dumplings are simple and standard in construction, they always leave a strong impression on us. Dumplings, particularly Georgian ones, have personality and Mohti’s bulky fragrant bundles filled with coarsely ground lamb and stock were supremely evocative of the Caucasus.

Basking in the hinkali afterglow, we should have called it quits but no Black Sea feast is complete without at least one plate of fresh hamsi lightly battered in cornmeal and fried. Ours appeared and were devoured in what seemed like an instant, leading to the arrival of a second order.

The pregnant lady admitted to Huseyin, now sitting at our table, that it was the best hamsi she had ever eaten. He swooned. Pregnant lady excluded, we all had another drink and clinked glasses to the novel concept of a Laz Meyhanesi and to the success of one of Beyoglu’s newest meyhane dons, Huseyin bey.

Address: Orhan Adli Apaydın Sk. No:15/A Kat-2, Asmalımescit
Telephone: 212-249-7181

(photos by Ansel Mullins)

(Editor’s Note: This post is part of our occasional “Since You Asked…” advice column. We welcome our readers’ questions, so feel free to send any you might have to istanbuleats@gmail.com)

Dear Istanbul Eats: The Asian side’s Korfez was always my very special night out when friends came to town, especially since they had their own boat that would come pick you up on the other side of the Bosphorus. Being swept across the water by private boat was always an impressive start to a reliably excellent meal. Now that Korfez is closed I don’t know what to do. Can you help? Marooned in Mecidiyekoy

We feel your pain. Cruising over to Korfez was certainly one of our favorite Istanbul dining experiences. There are some other options, though. Lacivert, also on the Asian side, offers a boat pickup service, although the food and service are not quite up to Korfez’s standards. Kordon, a very nice restaurant housed in the same Ottoman-era building as the waterfront Sumahan hotel, can arrange for pickup on the hotel’s boat (as long it’s also making a run to collect Sumahan guests).

But we suggest cutting out the middleman and chartering your own boat. There are lots of freelance boatmen looking for business along the shore of the Bebek area, but we’ve had good luck with Kaptan Erdogan, who docks his boat on the Eminonu/Fatih side of the Golden Horn. He can be reached at 90-(0)532-651-0331 and even has his own Facebook page. Expect to pay 80-100 lira per hour for his boat, which accommodates ten comfortably.

Whichever boat you end up with, ask the captain to take you up the Bosphorus to Suna’nin Yeri in Kandili or Ismet Baba in Kuzguncuk. You’ll have excellent food at better prices than the fancier spots along the Bosphorus and you can put the money you saved on dinner into the cost of the boat ride. Happy sailing!