Dear Istanbul Eats,

Dear Concerned,
Thanks for the great question. Pandeli is indeed a venerable spot and, for a certain generation of visitors to Istanbul, often the first culinary stop made in the city. Which is to say that we haven’t been there in years. In order to answer your question, we asked our resident guest blogger, “Meliz,” to check things out over at Pandeli and come up with strategies for others who plan to visit the restaurant. Her report is below….

Someone mentioned the film Midnight Express to me the other day, and my first (ok, second) thought was hmm, wonder how Pandeli is these days? Let me explain.

When I first arrived in Istanbul, there were two things I used to hear about with some consistency: the film Midnight Express, and the restaurant Pandeli (not due to any connection between the two, mind you). Interestingly, as the years have passed and the city has gussied itself up a bit, one hears about both of these cultural touchstones less and less. I cannot argue that it is a shame that nowadays visitors are thinking more about what events to attend at the Biennial than “Joey, have you ever been… in a Turkish prison?” But I have to say, after a recent visit to Pandeli, after a decade-long hiatus, the place deserves a little revival of interest.

This is not to say that every single item on the menu is earthshaking. Nor that every item on the menu is priced within the average diner’s budget. But, the menu has not changed in a decade, and the things that I recall as special are still consistently so today. And those things are tasty enough to justify a visit if one happens to be skulking around the Spice Bazaar, especially with out-of-town guests. Because, let’s face it: Eminonu holds quite a treasure-trove of street food, but sometimes, after bumping elbows with its teeming masses, even the most inveterate chowhound might crave a linen tablecloth and a bit of quietude.

At Pandeli, as is the case with so many places in Istanbul/the world, you are paying for the ambiance and view. But only to an extent, and as these things go, I for one would rather pony up for Pandeli’s turquoise tiles and 17^th-century domed ceilings than fork over my precious lira for a panoramic city view blocked by grazing socialites. But that’s just me. So how do you ensure that all you pay for the ambiance is the two-lira cover? Let’s get to it.

Be forewarned: the first page of the menu had me breaking a bit of a sweat. At first blush, this appears to be a listing of appetizers priced between 30 and 60 lira each. And it is just that. But the appetizers are not your average meze. And 30-60 lira per portion for things like caviar and smoked bonito is not utterly outrageous. Just sort of outrageous. The list does smack of a funny nostalgia, a sort of executive’s lunch circa 1962, but as Pandeli does not offer martinis or champagne, I would skip it (and insist that no unordered plates of anything stay on the table).

For small plates, Pandeli offers a variety of vegetables cooked either with olive oil or butter – not something you find everywhere. That said, this is not an esnaf lokanta, not really, and while the veggies may be good, they will not be the most beautiful you have ever eaten. Better to go straight for the eggplant salad, a creamy puree of smoky deliciousness. Having said all that, the donerli patlican borek (henceforth DPB), listed as a small plate, is a) a good solid-sized portion, and b) the single best item on the menu. You know how quiche often comes close to perfect, but is held back by an eggy or over-cheesed heaviness? The DPB at Pandeli delivers on the elusive textural promise of quiche. You have a buttery but not lumpen yufka crust at the bottom, on top of which is a baked layer of that amazing eggplant puree, mixed with a subtle amount of kasar, the hard melty cheese of Turkey. There is enough kasar so that the top bakes to crispy perfection, but not so much that the eggplant puree loses its fluffiness. This stuff is darn good, but then, then, they heap on a generous but not gratuitous portion of doner slices. The crispy texture and the meaty flavor of the doner bring the perfect counterbalance to the creaminess of the eggplant borek. And at 10 lira for a portion the size of a Dickens novel, DPB also wins the prize for best deal on the menu.

If you are in for a somewhat more substantial meal, there are a few main courses particularly worth noting: the hunkar begendi (lamb bits over eggplant puree), the kuzu tandir (roasted lamb) and kagitta levrek (sea bass baked in parchment). None of these are cheap, but they are good. The sea bass dish is the single most famous dish at Pandeli, and it is done in a style one would be hard-pressed to find elsewhere. But at 38 lira, this is where one starts to pay for the ‘experience’. For my money, the prices on these main dishes indicate a splurge, but I am not convinced that the dishes themselves warrant that splurge.

Time to hit a sweet note, no?

At Pandeli, you will want to save room for dessert. We went for the sample plate, being the gluttons that we are, and while all the items on the plate were tasty, when I return, I will go straight for the standouts. The kabak tatlisi (stewed pumpkin) is a light, beautifully textured take on a dish I usually find to be a bit too much, like a sugary punch to the solar plexus. Not so at Pandeli, where it has a great texture and a balanced sweetness that allows the pumpkin to flaunt its flavorful self. Pandeli’s sweet specialty is an almond cookie, a bademli kurabiye of the crumbly variety. The spicing is a light touch, and the ground almonds in the cookie are crunchy-licious, great with after-lunch tea or Turkish coffee. The third standout is the kazandibi, and here I am about to get myself into trouble. Let me just say, reading Istanbul Eats was a big part of how I learned to stop worrying and love the Turkish chicken-breast pudding. Now one might even call me a pudding snob (I’m looking at you, Saray). So before whipping yourselves into a frenzy of clucking rage, take a deep breath and hear me out when I say I really like the kazandibi at Pandeli. I fully acknowledge that it is not chewy. It does not fight the spoon. In fact, it is more of a crème brulee texture, a bit custardy. But it is the real deal, the chicken breast was in there. Proof’s in the pudding, so to speak. And, when I head back to Pandeli, I’ll be calling dibs on the kazandibi.

Pandeli is a lovely space (worth reserving a table in the rooms facing outside onto the square), the service is old school and nonintrusive, and offers a quiet refuge from the madding crowds below. In the wild and woolly world of ‘touristed’ restaurants in Istanbul, there is much to be said for consistency, and Pandeli seems to have that down pat, judging by my experiences, decades apart. The place does deserve a visit, both for its pleasantly anachronistic vibe, and its time-tested tasties. I will definitely head back soon, most likely dragging a gaggle of guests shell-shocked by the Eminonu backstreets, for a lunch of their donerli patlican borek, followed by a little sweetness with my coffee. No more, no less. The 2 lira cover thus ends up being very little money, very well spent.

The More You Know… Pandeli is a lunch spot, though they get the busiest around 2 P.M. It is worth making a reservation for a table in the front rooms, though not necessary. To reach the restaurant, one must climb a somewhat daunting staircase. Alcohol is served, but expensive, and selection is not particularly exciting.

Address: Misir Carsisi No. 1 (just inside the main entrance to the Spice Bazaar, door is tucked away on the left)
Phone: (212) 527 39 09
(Open for lunch daily, except for Sundays, when bazaar is closed as well)

(Photo by Yigal Schleifer)

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)

(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)

Entering through the hall lined with photos of esteemed guests our attention hung on the huge wall-covered grotto, the likes of which we haven’t seen outside of natural history museums. We won’t get into the ceramic bas-reliefs of Anatolian construction through the ages featuring Greek temples, Ottoman mosques and soaring office towers that adorn the other walls, or other such subtle details. Let the over-the-topness of the grotto – with its stuffed doe and gurgling brook – stand as a symbol for the glory of all things at Has Kral, including the food.

Looking at the menu, we spotted many similarities to one of our favorite restaurants, Akdeniz Hatay Sofrasi, which also serves the cuisine of Turkey’s Hatay area, near the southern border with Syria. Has Kral has the metrelik kebab, sheesh served by the meter, a sporting man’s choice. We also noticed the hallmark of Hatay whimsy, chicken or lamb baked in a salt dome and set ablaze at the table. Both are excellent at Akdeniz, but require advance order so we couldn’t sample Has Kral’s version.

We started our meal with a number of meze that we know and love from the Hatay kitchen – a zingy zahtar (fresh thyme) salad, fattush, or green salad riddled with crunchy fried pide chips, and lubnan ezmesi, which combined a salty soft cheese with roasted eggplant yogurt and dried red peppers. The starters, along with one of our favorite guilty pleasures between courses, icli kofte, were delicious.

Selecting from the list of kebabs is an overwhelming part of a meal at Has Kral. However poetic, items with names like “the dance of kebab” didn’t help us make a decision. We asked the waiter to translate the list into plain kebab language and settled on one of the specials, featuring an assortment of three kebabs. Here’s where Has Kral earned its crown.

Two of the three kebabs were shockingly good. The third, a çöp şiş, was very good by any normal measure but paled in comparison to its compatriots on the plate. One of those, made of fatty ground lamb shot through with bright green pistachios and shreds of red pepper, was crumbly and almost sweet. We found its partner, bursting with pine nuts, so moist and delicious that we thought we might be hallucinating. But that’s the Has Kral experience – trippy, down to the last detail.

There is a tempting desert menu, including candied unripe eggplants and walnuts, but by the end of the kebab course the atmosphere of Has Kral can get a little heavy. We suggest wandering the little streets around Has Kral, , in search of that perfectly plain kunefe shack. They are out there and we find kunefe, a traditional kebab house desert of shredded pastry and cheese soaked in syrup, is somehow sweeter when sitting on a rickety stool on the sidewalk, rather than when being stared down by a stuffed doe perched on a concrete grotto.

Address: Ragib Bey sok. 25/A, Aksaray
Telephone: (212) 534-9707
Web: http://www.haskralsofrasi.com/

(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)

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!

(Editor’s Note: As much as we love eating out, sometimes nothing can beat a home-cooked meal. But recently we started thinking about killing two birds with one stone and learning how to make at home dishes from some of our favorite Istanbul restaurants. With that in mind, we are happy to present “Istanbul Eats Cooks,” a new feature that will showcase recipes straight from the kitchens of restaurants reviewed on our site in our book. Stay tuned in the coming weeks and months for more recipes.)

For years, we’ve been praising Zubeyir usta — the ever-smiling grillmaster at Zubeyir, one of our all-time favorite spots — for his intoxicating mashed roasted eggplant dip (seen above), a simple dish that still manages to hit a whole number of complex yet very satisfying notes. The dish’s name, kozde patlican, or “eggplants over coals”, is true to that smoky flavor that only a good charcoal fire can deliver.

Recently, Zubeyir usta invited us behind the grill and then into the kitchen for a tutorial and we are happy to present what we learned.

(Serve as an appetizer or side dish for four people)

Ingredients:
1 large eggplant
1 medium tomato
2 long green peppers
1 garlic clove, minced
1 tsp salt
1 tsp crushed red pepper flakes
1 tbsp olive oil
1 wedge of fresh lemon

Preparation:
Cut the tomato in half and skewer it along with the peppers.
Char the eggplant, tomato and peppers over glowing hardwood coals (the eggplant should be placed right on the coals, the other vegetables just above them). When the eggplant is soft, remove all vegetables from the fire and peel the charred skin.
Finely chop the tomatoes and peppers, mixing them together until they reach the desired consistency. Chop the eggplant finely and mix it with the other vegetables on a cutting board. Mix in the garlic, spices, lemon juice and olive oil. Serve warm with fresh lavash or flatbread.

(Editor’s Note: Although the new year is already upon us, we had so many memorable Istanbul dining experiences in 2010 that we wanted to take one last look at the past year’s culinary highlights. So, before we get to the work of further exploring Istanbul in 2011, here’s our top 10 bites of 2010.)

For us, the best bites are often the ones that are most reliable. Before we review a restaurant for this site, we try to return several times to make sure that that best bite wasn’t a fluke.

1. Pera Sisore was always a reliable favorite of ours. However, after a shakeup in management we’ve noticed a dip in quality and consistency. Luckily, half of the Sisore team, including the kitchen staff, recently opened a new place in Beyoglu called Hayvore. We are happy to report that all of the Sisore favorites are on offer at Hayvore. Perhaps one of our last bites in 2010, Hayvore is definitely among the best.

2. Just down the street from Hayvore is another standard in our playbook, Cukur Meyhanesi. Excellent meze and fried liver aside, this is always one of the first places we head to when the hamsi, or Black Sea anchovies, start swimming. A plate of these tiny fish — skewered and grilled — help us understand the hamsi mania that envelopes Istanbul every winter.

3. Another unforgettable fish was set before us just last week at the Arnavutkoy favorite Adem Baba. We aren’t sure how many times we’ve eaten sole at Adem Baba — rolled, skewered and grilled with wedges of tomato and peppers, fried or grilled whole — but every time feels like the first time. After a double portion, we considered abandoning Beyoglu for the restaurant’s Bosphorus-side neighborhood just to be able to eat here everyday.

4. Along with the reliable best bites, there were also transcending moments when we felt we’d stumbled on something Bigger than a great meal. Smearing creamy fava puree on toasted bread, munching fried fish and drinking beer from a can dangerously close to the lapping Bosphorus at Sunanin Yeri in Kandilli was certainly one of these moments.

5. The first time we walked into Fatih Karadeniz Pidecisi in Fatih there was such intense pide-worship going on we thought we’d stumbled into the temple of a secret cult. But we were heartily welcomed into the ritual taking place and it was very special. This too was one of those out-of-body best bites.

6. If a few years ago you told us we’d be craving liver for lunch everyday, we would have laughed in your face. But the truth is that we can’t stop thinking about the Arnavut Ciger – aka “Albanian liver,” tiny morsels of calf’s liver that are dusted with flour and red pepper flakes and then fried and served with thin slices of raw onion – at Beyoglu’s Sahin Lokantasi. We really would be eating this dish for lunch seven days a week if it were not for the fact that Sahin – perhaps in an act of kindness to the other restaurants in the area – only serves liver every other day.

7. The Besiktas-based bistro-like Meyhane Sidika was one of our most satisfying finds of the year, with a great out-of-the-way location and lovingly prepared food. One of the restaurant’s meze specialties is a chunky, light green spread that turned out to be an utterly delicious mash made out of feta cheese and chopped pistachios. Nothing fancy – just good, honest food that was completely memorable.

8. In years past, the exceedingly short growing season of loquats always seemed to pass us by, which meant we usually missed our chance to have “Yeni Dunya Kebab” – a springtime specialty made by wrapping pitted loquats around minced meat and then grilling them on a skewer (in the picture above) until the fruit turns tangy and jam-like, serving as a perfect counterpoint to the fatty meat. This year we made a point of catching this unique and delicious kebab’s limited-run at Samatya’s Develi kebab house and we’re already counting the days until the first loquat appears this spring.

9. We’re all for culinary innovation, but there are some things that need little improvement. Take, for example, grilled ribs – a dish that has changed little since our earliest ancestors started putting meat to fire. Over at Taksim’s Zubeyir Ocakbasi, the kaburga – lamb ribs – are the kind of thing that awaken our inner caveman, an unbelievably satisfying mix of meat, fat, smoke and bone that always finds us ordering a second round.

10. There are several good spots to try durum – kebab wrapped in flatbread – around town, but this year we finally had a chance to try Aynen Durum, a superb joint just outside the Grand Bazaar that we had been eyeing for a long time. While the durum there was great, what we truly loved about this microscopic place was the vibe  and the crowd of hungry bazaar locals chowing down with a kind of reckless abandon rarely seen in other places around town.