Greeks and Turks have bickered for centuries over which nation makes the better baklava, a sticky-sweet dessert of layered pastry devoured in huge quantities across the eastern Mediterranean and the Middle East. But for the past 10 years, Turkey’s best-known producer, businessman Nadir Gullu, has been supplying Greece’s closely held Baklavas Epe, which operated five stores in Athens. He provided about two tons of baklava and other Turkish sweets per month.

Old rivalries aside, Athenians lapped them up—until, that is, they ran out of cash.

Baklavas Epe’s most profitable shop is on Athens’s landmark Syntagma Square. Before the crisis, tourists and locals queued up in droves to buy the pastries. But as the government embarked on a severe austerity program to reduce its debt burden and qualify for international support, demand sank.

Baklavas Epe closed three of its five stores in Athens as sales dropped. Meanwhile, it ratcheted up close to €160,000 (about $226,000) in debt for deliveries of sweets from across the Aegean Sea, according to the company. Plunging revenue made it impossible for Baklavas Epe to finance baklava purchases from Istanbul.

“Baklava has become a luxury. Think about it: Three kilos of minced beef costs the same as one kilo of baklava,” said a company spokesman. (A kilogram is about 2.2 pounds.)

In Turkish newspapers, Mr. Gullu, the owner of Karakoy Gulluoglu, a well-known baklava shop near the shores of the Bosporus in Istanbul, said the Greeks should pay their debts within a year and the business relationship was in jeopardy.

With elevated wage costs and sporadic vandalism amid protests over austerity measures adding to its woes, Baklavas Epe said it needed more time. Besides, it said, Mr. Gullu in public comments had exaggerated the amount of the debt. In short, it didn’t look good for business and friendship in the Greek-Turkish baklava trade.

Fortunately for the Greeks, Gullu has decided to cut them some slack by extending the amount of time they have to repay their loans. As part of the deal, it looks like the two companies will also open up a co-owned coffee shop in Athens. Full article here. And the Istanbul Eats review of Gulluoglu here.

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

There is a quiet grace in doing one thing, but doing it very well.

Or, maybe, two things. Like, say, borek and baklava.

This is what distinguishes Rumeli, a tiny place a block or two from the Hippodrome in the Sultanahmet neighborhood. Do not be discouraged by the barren display cases, by the sparsely filled trays in the window, by solemn ranks of unrefrigerated Camlica bottles. As noted previously on this site: in Istanbul, most often, quality of food is in direct inverse proportion to fanciness of décor. This holds true in Sultanahmet, as well.

The key with Rumeli is to make it your first early-morning stop, before powering your way through the glory that is Sultanahmet. Why? Because Nilgul Hanim makes the day’s batch of borek once, every morning, and it is invariably gone by noon. There might be a spare pogaca sitting around, looking lonely, but for borek, one must arrive early.

And it is worth the trouble. This is the borek your Turkish friends have told you about — the kind of borek usually reserved for those lucky children whose aunties or mothers loved them too much, and had time to spare to make fresh yufka (the Turkish version of phyllo dough). At Rumeli, I finally understood the glossy-eyed insistence of friends that had tried for years, against overwhelming evidence to the contrary (from freezer-aisle yufka to franchised borek salons), to convince me that borek could be one of the great pleasures of life. Rumeli validates, for the uninitiated, the special place borek has in the hearts of the citizens of Turkey—buttery hand-rolled yufka, rolled around a generous but not excessive amount of spinach, cheese, or meat, everything prepared from scratch that morning.

Then there is the baklava.

This is not the photogenic, overbred, golden-fluffy baklava of the guidebooks. At Rumeli, you will get homemade walnut (never pistachio, ever) baklava that is, let’s just say, pretty on the inside. By which I mean delicious. The pastry is crispy on top, overstuffed with walnuts, and the syrup-soaked layers on the bottom never have time to turn into the chewy wad that one sometimes gets with mass-produced baklava. Rumeli baklava is so special that it is accepted currency with many in the bazaar (especially for payment of debts incurred over backgammon or pishti). HINT: if you do not see any baklava, ask. It may be cooling out back, in which case, you are in for an extra-special treat, as their baklava is obscenely good when fresh. As for timing with the baklava, get there before 3.

So—how best to enjoy Rumlei’s borek or baklava?

Sultanahmet is chock full of public benches in stunning locations—none of which truly offer the chance to sit and enjoy oneself in uninterrupted peace. That said, if you do not mind a little unsolicited conversation, nothing beats the view from a Sultanahmet park bench on a sunny day. BUT: If the thought of that unsolicited conversation makes you grind your teeth, Rumeli does have a few tables, inside and out. I recommend that you sit inside, where you get to follow the banter between Eshref Bey and his wife Nilgul Hanim—he is deaf, she is formidable—and interactions between Eshref Bey and the various and sundry regulars darting in for their treats.

Address: Peykhane Caddesi 41/5 (3 blocks up the Hippodrome using Üçler Sokak), Sultanahmet
Phone: 212-516-4880

(Editor’s Note: In Salih Seçkin Sevinç, creator of the fantastic Turkish-language food blog “Harbi Yiyorum” (roughly translated as “Eating For Real” in English), we’ve found a kindred spirit and a source for great eating tips. We’ve asked Salih to share with our readers some of his culinary wisdom this week. This is his third post about the mind blowing food scene in southeast Turkey’s Gaziantep.)

Our plane arrived at 9:30 in the morning at Gaziantep airport and one hour later we were already at kebab and baklava emporium Imam Çağdaş — The first place in the city that comes to mind for eating — for breakfast.

Imam Çağdaş was founded in 1887. Today it is run by the grandson of Imam Dede:  Burhan Çağdaş. They also send orders outside. I mean overseas. One of their famous clients is the Turkish President, Abdullah Gul.

When we arrived, the place was empty. We settled on a table next to the window. The waiter approached. We said “Selamin Aleykum. We are coming from Istanbul. Writing articles on eating and drinking. We will eat and drink. Also take some pictures. Did we arrive a little bit early, today?” “What do you think?” he replied, sarcastically.

Despite the early hour, we ordered an eggplant kebab and an ayran to go along with it. Following the waiter’s suggestion, we also ordered an Antep-style lahmacun to start things.  Of course, we were advised about the restaurant’s baklava before coming here, so we ordered that as a dessert.

In Antep, lahmacun is prepared with minced garlic that’s sprinkled on top. Mashed grilled eggplant is served on the side to spread on it.  You apply the mashed eggplant on lahmacun and you eat it that way. We never tried lahmacun like that before, but it tasted weirdly nice. Actually, that lahmacun was the best lahmacun we’ve ever tried. The dough was not too crispy and not too soft, the minced meat that topped it delicious. After we squirted some lemon on this beautiful lahmacun, we were informed that in Antep a lahmacun eaten with eggplant and lemon is called “söğürtme.” We should note that we tried lahmacun in several different places during our visit, but folks, lahmacun should be eaten at Imam Çağdaş.

But now it’s time to sing the praises of the baklava that we ate at Imam Çağdaş.

There are so many baklava makers in Gaziantep, but we never tasted anything as good as what we ate at Imam Çağdaş. It’s a totally different experience.

I asked the owner how to eat his baklava? He said; “Leave the fork and the knife and grab the baklava between your two fingers. Turn it upside down. Push it towards the roof of your mouth and now bite.”  I did as he said. Oh, God! Wish I never had bitten that thing. The miraculous crackling sound that was made as I bit down on all those thin, flaky layers went straight to my brain. My approach to baklava will never be the same again.

Yes, that one bite completely changed me till death.

Address: Kale Civarı, Uzun Çarşı No: 49, Gaziantep
Telephone: 0342-220-4545
Web: www.imamcagdas.com

(The original post in Turkish can be found here: http://harbiyiyorum.blogspot.com/2009/08/gaziantepte-ne-yenir-ne-icilir-lahmacun.html. Photo by Salih Seçkin Sevinç.)

(Editor’s Note: In Salih Seçkin Sevinç, creator of the fantastic Turkish-language food blog “Harbi Yiyorum” (roughly translated as “Eating For Real” in English), we’ve found a kindred spirit and a source for great eating tips. We’ve asked Salih to share with our readers some of his culinary wisdom and we are happy to be able to this week run a series of his posts about the mind blowing food scene in southeast Turkey’s Gaziantep. Take it away Salih!)

Gaziantep, formerly known only as “Antep,” received its “Gazi” moniker (“War Veteran” in Turkish) after the city was defended heroically during the First World War. But the city’s real claim to fame is its cuisine, especially its kebab and baklava. In Antep, the locals call every grilled meat dish “kebab.” Among others, there’s ciğer kebab (liver), the classic şiş kebab, patlıcan kebab (eggplant kebab) and Ali Nazik kebab (grilled meat over eggplant puree). Stay there long enough and you might even find they’ve named a kebab after you!

Gaziantep is a heavenly place for meat lovers, a carnival for the stomach and a feast for the eyes.  But talking only about meat would be unfair to the desserts that originated here, such as baklava, katmer and kadayıf. Oh, yes we forgot!  Let’s add lahmacun to this beautiful menu. Antep-style lahmacun means it is always prepared with garlic and it’s always better with garlic.

The above items are the most popular ones that should be eaten whenever you visit Gaziantep.  If you do not eat these things, your visit to the city could very well be considered invalid.

OK. What were we talking about? Yes, what else to eat in Gaziantep?

As there is a huge corpus over here, we’ll try to make a list: kebab, katmer (a dessert of filo dough wrapped around pistachio, buttermilk and sugar), ciğer, baklava, burma kadayıf, beyran (a soup Like kelle paca), lahmacun, meyan kökü şerbeti (Licorice Root Juice), dutsuyu (Berry Juice), yuvalama (an Antep-style soup made with tiny meatballs), içli köfte, ekşili yuvarlak köfte (meatballs in a piquant sauce) and küşleme (a kind of lamb filet, considered “as precious as caviar” by some). Of course we didn’t have enough time to eat all of these things (although we did try most of them).

Gaziantep totally changes the way you eat. This is a place where you can have liver kebab for breakfast. And when you want to eat it at lunch, no sir! You can’t find it. The chef will say: “Today go home and come back tomorrow before 9:30 in the morning”. Can you believe it?

This is your daily nutrition chain in the city. Breakfast: ciğer kebab. Lunch: şiş kebab. Dinner: beyran, lahmacun and again another kind of kebab. If you still have room in your stomach, add some baklava or another dessert to each meal. The truth is that we ate so much over three days in Antep that we almost became sick.

But the other truth is that Gaziantep is a real experience for real eaters. We will take a look at some of the best places to eat in Gaziantep in the coming days.

Up next? Lahmacun and baklava in Gaziantep. Stay tuned.

(Note: to read Salih’s report in Turkish, visit http://harbiyiyorum.blogspot.com/2009/08/gaziantepte-ne-yenir-ne-icilir-girizgah.html)

The baklava was supposed to have arrived by noon. We’d confirmed that by telephone before setting off for Antebi, a Gaziantep-style kebab restaurant on Istanbul’s Asian side which serves a sweet flaky pastry straight in from the baklava motherland. We planned much of our weekend around the baklava’s arrival. However, it was late.

“It will be here at 1.30,” the waiter told us while we were en route to the restaurant, quickly hanging up the phone.

Arriving at Antebi with nearly two hours to kill, we perused the menu and ordered a lahmacun and an Ali Nazik kebabi. The lahmacun arrived steaming and flopping cartoonishly over either end of the plate, like an elephant riding a tricycle. Our Ali Nazik, shreds of marinated meat over a bed of smoky eggplant mash mixed with yogurt, was nothing impressive. The kebab at this kebab house seemed to us an afterthought, or perhaps we were distracted by the day’s main course, the baklava.

While in Gaziantep, we ate enough baklava to understand the mania around it. Tasting baklava in Gaziantep after years of eating it in Istanbul is like switching from Nescafe to espresso. It is that much better, the chronic of baklava. On our last visit to Gaziantep, we even skipped a side trip to the historic town of Hasankeyif in order to free up the day for more baklava eating, with no regrets.

How perfectly frivolous it may seem to bus in a dessert to Istanbul, like bringing a pocketfuls of sand to a beach. But this baklava with the giant carbon footprint satisfies something important for people like us who need to find, eat and declare the best.

So if it is agreed that the best baklava in Turkey comes from Gaziantep, and some of the best baklava in Gaziantep is crafted by moonlight at Zeki Inal Baklavacisi, then the last word in the Istanbul baklava debate belongs to Antebi. Case closed.

Finally, our baklava arrived.

If baklava has one thousand and one layers of membrane-thin flake, we detected well over 500 individually on the first bite. We might have understood more of the baklava’s complexity if we hadn’t been slapping high fives and hooting our approval to the waiter. The thick deck of pistachios sandwiched by airy flake and saturated lower levels unite in a bite that is neither dry nor goopy, has crackle and ooze. The bright nutty flavor of the local Gaziantep pistachios worked its magic against the sweetness lurking below.

In short, this was the baklava that kept us away from Hasankeyif. Luckily, we didn’t have to board a cross-country bus to find it.

(Note: Antebi only offers Gaziantep baklava on Saturdays and Sundays. Call ahead to make sure a shipment is coming.)

Address: Acibadem Cad. 74/a, Kadikoy
Telephone: 0216-340-7820

(photo by Ansel Mullins)

You can read the article, which includes several of our favorites (such as Hatay Akdeniz Sofrasi (pictured) and Canim Cigerim) here.

(photo by Yigal Schleifer)

Day One: Turkey’s Regional Flavors in Beyoglu

Breakfast: Van Kahvalti Evi in Cihangir
In the city of Van, not far from Turkey’s border with Iran, breakfast has been turned into serious business: the town is filled with dozens of Kahvaltı Salonu’s – breakfast salons – that serve a dizzying assortment of farm fresh breakfast items day and night.

In recent years this superb breakfast has been working its way westward, with several Van-style spots now open in Istanbul. Our favorite is Van Kahavaltı Evi (Van Breakfast House) in Beyoglu’s Cihangir neighborhood. The restaurant hasquickly become one of the area’s most popular, and it’s easy to see why. The people running the friendly place serve a mean breakfast, bringing in most of their ingredients, some of them organic, from back east.

The Van breakfast takes the traditional Turkish breakfast of cheese, tomato, cucumber and some bread and turns it up several notches. At Van Kahvalti Evi, along with the standards, your breakfast plate comes with an assortment of local Van cheeses (including a very tasty one that contains brined wild herbs), kaymak (clotted cream), tangy cacik (thick yogurt spread) and murtuğa, a heavy wheat flour porridge that looks almost like scrambled eggs. Butter, jams, olives and some of Van’s famous honey round all this out – along with endless glasses of strong tea.
Address: Defterdar Yokuşu No: 52.A, Cihangir
Telephone: 212-293-6437

Lunch: Hayvore
At first glance, with its steam table covered with pots of ready-made food, Hayvore may look like any one of those quickie lunch spots found throughout Turkey. But there’s a difference – someone here is cooking up some serious Black Sea magic in the kitchen.

The Black Sea area is Turkey’s culinary misfit – not really about kebabs or meze. It’s simple, filling, down-home food and Hayvore is a great spot to get acquainted with it.

This time of year, the restaurant – found on a side street off busy Istiklal boulevard – serves a very tasty version of hamsi (fresh anchovy) pilaf, the holy grail of Black Sea cooking. A kind of savory fish cake, the pilaf has small hamsi filets wrapped around a thick bed of rice infused with herbs, currants and pine nuts.

Everything else we’ve tried at Hayvore has been a winner. A rib sticking stew made with kale, beans and hominy was earthy and smoky. Hayvore also serves up a fine version of another Black Sea staple – creamy white beans (kuru fasulye) cooked up in a rich, buttery red sauce.

On any given day, Hayvore has more than a dozen items bubbling away on the steam table, some typical Black Sea dishes, some not. It’s worth trying a few – it’s the easiest way to visit the Black Sea without leaving Istanbul.
Address: Turnacibasi Sokak 4, Beyoglu
Telephone: 212-245-7501

Tea Time: Güllüoğlu
Baklava, the flaky, phyllo-dough based pastry, has long ago stopped being a Middle Eastern regional specialty. In America, for example, it is now a staple of dessertmenus at diners and falafel stands across the country. But these places miss the point: baklava is actually not a dessert, but rather an event in itself.

In Istanbul, Karaköy Güllüoğlu is one of our favorite places for an authentic baklava experience. Located a stone’s throw from the Bosphorus, this baklava emporium has been catering to Istanbul sweet tooths since 1949, serving than a dozen different kinds of phyllo-based sweets, none of them resembling the cardboard-like, past-its-prime version of baklava that is often dished out outside the Middle East. Along with the excellent classic baklava, we are also fans of a specialty called sutlu Nuriye, made of flaky layers of pastry drenched in a sweet, milky sauce. After ordering your baklava, sit down at a table outside and catch the Bosphorus breeze.
Address: Katli Otopark Alti (main store) or 171 Mumhane Cad. (factory store), Karaköy
Phone: 212-293-0910 (main store) or 212-243-1376 (factory store)
Web: www.karakoygulluoglubaklava.com

Dinner: Antiochia
We recently stumbled upon Antiochia – a small restaurant on a quiet Beyoglu backstreet that exudes cool without sacrificing flavor.

From its funky logo to the hipster waiters, Antiochia clearly has a different ambition (and clientele) than most restaurants serving the Middle Eastern-influenced foodfrom Turkey’s southern Hatay region, an area wedged between Syria and the Mediterranean Sea.

Nar eksili cevizli kozbiber, a divine relish of red and green peppers in a pomegranate dressing, was topped with crushed walnuts, adding a crunchy texture to this sweet and sour cold starter. Tasting the homemade yogurt with mint proved just how little we knew about what yogurt can be — pleasantly sour and almost as thick as butter. Muammara, a thick spread of walnuts, red pepper and spices is a Hatay signature and a fine choice. Our favorite, though, was the kekik salatasi, an intense meze of green olives, fresh thyme and olive oil.

Antiochia’s main courses are simple, recognizable dishes, yet set to a higher frequency. Şiş et is a plate of marinated cubes of beef skewered and grilled over a charcoal fire. On any given evening in Beyoglu, there have got to be thousands of skewers of şiş et coming off the grill, but none are quite as tender and succulent as the one at Antiochia. The minced meat wrap, an Istanbul street food favorite, with onions and tomatoes, was among the best we’ve had in the city.
Address: Minare Sokak, Asmalimesict
Phone: 212-292-1100
Web: www.antiochiaconcept.com

Day Two: Old and New Istanbul on the Bosphorus

Breakfast: Besiktas Kaymakci (AKA Kaymakci Pando)
In our imagination, kaymak – the delicious Turkish version of clotted cream – is the only food served in heaven, where angels in white robes dish out plate after plate of the cloudlike stuff to the dearly departed, who no longer have to worry about cholesterol counts and visits to the cardiologist.

Perhaps we’re getting carried away, but kaymak can do that to you. For our money, the classic Turkish combo of kaymak served with honey and crusty white bread is one of the finest breakfasts this side of paradise. And one of our favorite places to eat this breakfast is Besiktas Kaymakci.

This tiny shop/eatery has been in business since 1895, and it certainly shows its age. The marble counter is cracked and the paint on the walls peeling. But the kaymak, served up by the 84-year-old Pando, a Turk of Bulgarian origin and a living institution in Istanbul’s untouristed Besiktas bazaar, is out of this world. Prices here also seem unchanged since 1895: a plate of kaymak and honey, served with fresh bread and a glass of steaming hot milk, will set you back 4 lira.
Address: Koyici Meydanı Sokak, Besiktas
Telephone: 212-258-2616

Lunch: Ismet Baba
Most fish restaurants are mere caricatures of places like Ismet Baba, where traditions have been kept sacred for more than fifty years. This may not be the best restaurant in the city, but it’s got something most of the others have lost, keeping rhythm to an old school style of Istanbul charm and character.

At Ismet Baba, located in Kuzguncuk, a charming Bosphorus neighborhood on the Asian side, we like to lean back, hunker down into a long raki-laced lunch and really enjoy this special place and its classic mezes. Pilaki, beans in olive oil, and the cold octopus salad are unusually good. We also like the haydari, a thick, tangy spread of strained yogurt and dill and the fried eggplant with a garlicky yogurt drizzle. The catch of the day is posted on a small black board in the dining room, and we found the grilled bream, cupra, or a plate of blue fish, cinekop, perfectly prepared and just the right amount.
Address: Carsi Caddesi #1A, Kuzguncuk
Telephone: 216-553-1232

Dinner: Abracadabra
This funky informal restaurant, housed in an imposing Ottoman-era mansion located smack dab on the Bosporus in the swank Arnavutkoy neighborhood, serves some of Istanbul’s most creative riffs on traditional Turkish cuisine.

The four floors of the building each have a very different vibe, from bar-like to intimate, although we suggest a table in the dine-in kitchen, up close and personal with Abracadabra’s spunky owner-chef Dilara Erbay, a pioneer of Turkish fusion cuisine.

Through flaming woks, kitchen hustle and shouts, something smelling at once Thai, Turkish and Lebanese rushes past you for Dilara’s final touch. There’s a lot going on in this kitchen that you won’t want to miss. And when it’s time to order, we usually put ourselves at the tender mercy of Dilara, letting her guide us through the menu.

Dilara’s navigation of the appetizer menu includes her latest inspired creations, prepared with what’s fresh in the markets. Like a jazzman interpreting on an old standard, Dilara hints at classic Turkish cuisine sometimes in little more than name, for example tweaking the classic börek into a bouquet of matchstick skinny, 6-inch batons served upright in a shot glass of sweet and spicy sauce, both beautiful and fun to eat.
Address: 50/1 Arnavutkoy Cad. Arnavutkoy
Phone: (212) 358-6087
www.abracadabra-ist.com

Baklava, the flaky, phyllo-dough based pastry, has long ago stopped being a Middle Eastern regional specialty. In America, for example, it is now a staple of dessert menus at diners and falafel stands across the country. But these places miss the point: baklava is actually not a dessert, but rather an event in itself. Take a look how the item is treated in Turkey. A few years ago, during a visit to Gaziantep, a culinary Mecca in southeast Turkey famous for being home to the country’s best baklava, we watched with astonishment early one morning as people did the “wake and flake,” tucking into a plate of the sweet, multi-layered stuff for breakfast at one of the city’s numerous small baklava makers.

In Istanbul, Karaköy Güllüoğlu is one of our favorite places for that kind of pure baklava experience. Located a stone’s throw from the Bosphorus, this baklava emporium has been catering to Istanbul sweet tooths since 1949. Done up in borderline tacky décor that looks like it is meant to evoke late Ottoman splendor, the place serves more than a dozen different kinds of phyllo-based sweets, none of them resembling the cardboard-like, past-its-prime version of baklava that is often dished out outside the Middle East. Along with its excellent classic baklava, made with either pistachios or walnuts, we are also fans of Güllüoğlu’s şöbiyet, a gooey, triangular-shaped phyllo pastry filled with pistachios and cream, and of a specialty called sutlu Nuriye, made of flaky layers of pastry drenched in a sweet, milky sauce. After you pick out what you want from the display cases holding large trays of baklava, you can either eat your sweets standing up at one of several high tables inside, surrounded by an unmistakably buttery aroma, or sit down at a table outside and catch the Bosphorus breeze.

Like most baklava makers, Güllüoğlu’s founders hail from Gaziantep (there are actually dozens of families from there with the same name manufacturing baklava throughout Turkey, which can make things confusing). Although they have ramped up their production over the years, the place still seems to be sticking with tradition. On a flatscreen monitor inside, a promotional film shows grainy, black and white archival footage of a mustachioed Güllüoğlu employee briskly rolling out a paper thin, translucent sheet of phyllo dough. Cut to today, where – now in color – the film shows a mustachioed employee busy doing the exact same thing. Güllüoğlu has also stayed true to its Karaköy roots, still making its baklava in the neighborhood, at a facility just a few minutes walk away from its main store. You can sit down to eat baklava there too, gaining perhaps a few minutes of freshness over what’s found at the other location, although the atmosphere is decidedly less fancy.

Of course, considering what they sell, both spots open bright and early at 7am – in time to catch the morning rush of baklava addicts.

Address: Katli Otopark Alti (main store) or 171 Mumhane Cad. (factory store), Karaköy
Phone: 212-293-0910 (main store) or 212-243-1376 (factory store)
Web: www.karakoygulluoglubaklava.com

(photo by Monique Jaques)