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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(photo by Ansel Mullins)

(Editor’s Note: This review of one of our all-time favorite places first appeared on April 1, 2009.)
The no-frills Lades 2 presents diners with that age-old question: what to eat first, the chicken or the eggs? This restaurant – a Turkish version of the American-style greasy spoon diner – specializes in all things fowl, from chicken soup, to a variety of egg dishes and even a dessert that, we kid you not, weds a thick, milky pudding with chicken. Even the name – “lades” means wishbone in Turkish – follows the chicken theme.

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

The menu is basic. If it’s chicken you want, you can order the restorative soup – not far off from what you would get in a Jewish delicatessen in New York – which comes with little strands of noodle floating in it, or “tavuk yağda,” a stir-fry of shredded chicken and hot green peppers in a tangy tomato sauce. Eggs come two ways: fried or scrambled with sautéed onions, green peppers and tomato in a dish called menemen. Most patrons order their fried eggs cooked together with either sucuk (a garlicky Turkish sausage) or pastirma (dried cured beef) and even ground beef. It’s greasy goodness, served up in its own individual skillet.

Of course, no visit to Lades 2 would be complete without a taste of their excellent “chicken” pudding, called tavuk göğsü (literally “chicken breast”). You won’t be biting into chunks of bird in your pudding. Rather, the meat is poached and then pounded until it is nothing but wispy fibers, adding texture and the subtlest flavoring to the white pudding, which is served with a dusting of cinnamon. Don’t be scared about ordering it. After all, you know what they do to chickens in Lades 2.

Address: Sadri Alisik Sokak 14, Beyoglu
Telephone: 212-251-3202

To the list of the “esnaf nouveau” in town we should add the restaurant/café at the Istanbul Culinary Institute, a stylish spot that since its opening a few years ago has become something of a neighborhood institution.

The idea here is simple: let the students of the culinary school upstairs prepare the food for the customers downstairs. The menu changes frequently depending on what is being taught, but it always features a selection of classics from the Turkish kitchen, sometimes made with organic fruits and vegetables grown on the ICI’s farm in Turkey’s Thrace region, near the Greek border.

Although it might sound like there’s an element of culinary risk in putting yourself in the hands of neophytes, we’ve always been happy with what comes out of the Institute’s kitchen. On a recent visit, we had very well-made mucver, zucchini fritters that were exceptionally fluffy and tasty – much lighter than other version of the dish that we have had around town – as well a nicely-done eggplant stew. Our dessert, a traditional milk pudding with stewed sour cherries at the bottom, was also very satisfying. And unlike dining at an old school esnaf lokanta, you can have a glass of wine with your meal and a cappuccino to finish it off.

There’s zero risk, meanwhile, when it comes to the restaurant/café’s interior – a stylish space that successfully fuses industrial cool with homey warmth. It’s the kind of space that wouldn’t seem out of place in New York, London, or any other capital of global chic.

Address: Meşrutiyet cad. No: 59, Beyoglu
Telephone: (212) 251-2214
Web: www.istanbulculinary.com/eng/

(photo by Yigal Schleifer)

And that is what you feel when you walk through the worn swinging doors of Baylan Pastanesi in the Kadikoy market. To many Istanbulites, it must be a tender reminder of the days when local places got classed-up with European names (the original shop was called L’Orient) and men wore hats (the brimmed kind, not the knit ones). We felt a similar twinge breathing in the sweet smell of chocolate and the must of wet counters as we walked past the low display case of macaroons and chocolates. We could have been at classic sweets shops like Cupid’s on Chicago’s Southside or Parkside Candy in Buffalo.

Along with a glimpse of yesteryear, people come to Baylan to eat the kup griye, a vanilla ice cream dessert that our waiter described as the atom bomba. Riddled with slivers of toffee and swimming in caramel sauce, its effect was less explosive than promised, but satisfying nonetheless. In a land where local ice cream is handled by fez-clad clad boys swinging it around with a crowbar and banging a cowbell, the velvety kup griye felt, well, classy.

The whacky Adisababa was another story. In full form this chocolate-coated ice cream fruitcake looked like a magician’s black hat on a shelf. Was it the mystery of what lay within that encouraged such an exotic name as Adisababa? What were Yorgi and Filip thinking when they named this one? Certainly, the recipe didn’t hale from the dusty Ethiopian capital. Spellbound, we ordered a slice. Staring at the bubblegum pink innards and tasting it gingerly while eying the delicious kup griye across the table, we pushed it aside, realizing we preferred class over sass.

On the way out, we couldn’t resist a box of colorful macaroons. Our waiter offered a taste of his personal favorite, vanilla, and the light crunch of meringue gave way to a sweet creamy center. “Atom bomba,” we declared as he carefully wrapped the blue Baylan box with an orange ribbon.

On our way out a customer was grousing about the service: her family had been coming there for fifty years, didn’t they know who she was? The man behind the counter smiled and nodded. Of course he knew who she was. He too had been there for the better part of fifty years and could probably recall this customer stamping her tiny foot and pitching a fit after her first kup griye thirty years ago. Like Baylan, some things never change.

Address: Muvakkithane Caddesi 9A, Kadikoy
Telephone: 216-346-6350

(photo by Ansel Mullins)

Today, this culinary landmark is one of the last holdouts in the historic Cercle D’Orient block, defying an eviction notice from one of the most powerful developers in the country. The grand building, which is also home to the recently shuttered Emek cinema, one of the last great movie halls in Istanbul, is slated to become a shopping center. That would put it next door to another shopping mall that rising on Istiklal, which itself is already evolving into a kind of elongated, open-air mall. More shopping vs. Inci’s profiterole? We know where we come out on that one. We only wish the grand poobahs who are in charge of Beyoglu’s “urban transformation” felt the same way we do.

Inci is collecting signatures to save the home of the profiterole, but the staff admits its days are most likely numbered.

Stop in and sign the petition, if not for a profiterole then for what might be a final glimpse of old Beyoglu.

Address: Istiklal Caddesi 56, Beyoglu
Telephone: 212-293-9224

(photo by Ansel Mullins)

Considering the type of restaurant we were in – a pudding shop – the menu’s concept became clear. Any self-respecting Turkish pudding man must serve tavuk göğsü – a pudding made out of chicken breast and milk – first and foremost. A man after our own heart, Ali Bey seems to have worked backward from dessert, filling in the rest of the menu with what was left over after the chicken’s breasts were rendered into pudding. After all, there is a lot more to a chicken than the breast, and here we found a wide and economical offering of everything but the beaks, feathers and feet.

Though immediately drawn to the cornerstone poultry pudding, we restrained ourselves and started with the soup.
In Turkish, one does not “eat” soup; soup is “drank” – an homage to the stock, presumably. And at Kismet the stock is superior – simple thin chicken broth, devoid of any thickening agents, flavor spikes or, really, anything at all. This is down-to-the-bone, pure chicken soup – the soft shreds of chicken and thin noodles are merely the icing on the cake.

As a main course, the gizzards, taslik, came sizzling in a skillet with chopped peppers and tomatoes looking like a classic menemen, with thin slices of rich, dark meat in place of the eggs.

The defining moment of the meal materialized with the presentation of Ali Bey’s chicken breast pudding. Beside the plate of thick, white pudding the waiter set a shaker of cinnamon. We take our pudding neat, however, and Ali Bey seemed to approve watching from his post behind the counter. Unlike other fibrous chicken breast puddings around town, this one was remarkably smooth and akin, in flavor, to a fine rice pudding.

After giving us change back for a 10 TL for the bill, Ali Bey asked if we enjoyed the pudding.

“Of course,” we replied, meeting eyes with a man who, like us, plans a meal around the dessert.

Address: Kucukpazar Cad. 68, Eminonu, Istanbul
Phone: 212-513-6773

(photo by Ansel Mullins)

Of course, it’s difficult to sneak back home in the middle of the busy workday for a taste of mom’s eggplant stew or her kofte. Which is where the esnaf lokanta, a type of no-frills canteen that is Turkey’s most ubiquitous restaurant, comes in. Although roughly translated as a “tradesmen’s restaurant,” it is really an extension of the home kitchen, a place where the spirit of everyone’s mother seems to be stirring the pots.

Lately, we’ve been making ourselves at home at Şahin Lokantasi, an esnaf lokanta on a Beyoglu side street that very successfully manages to put the “home” back into home cooking. In the case of Şahin, “home” is a bustling place where waiters in white smocks shout orders over your head and you will likely eat your meal at a table full of strangers. “Mom,” meanwhile, is a burly, mustachioed fellow who looks like he was a member of Turkey’s Olympic wrestling team in a former life. Hunched over the steam table, sweat on his brow, he is in constant motion, filling dish after dish in with a quick flip of his ladle.

Open since 1967, the restaurant is usually bursting at the seams during lunch, with an almost comical amount of people stuffing themselves into the small, two-storey space. The menu changes daily, with about a dozen dishes usually on offer: a combination of meat or vegetable stews, pilafs, various kinds of kofte and assorted other classics of the Turkish (home) kitchen.

Recent visits found nothing but winners coming off Şahin’s steam table. The Imam bayildi (made out of a fried eggplant stuffed with onions, tomatoes and garlic – the name means “the imam fainted”) actually made us swoon, among the finest renditions of this totemic dish that we’ve had in Istanbul. “Albanian” liver and onions, small cubes of tender and un-“livery” meat that have been dusted with flour and red pepper flakes and then fried, was also superb, the liver’s crispy/peppery exterior making a culinary link between Istanbul and Szechuan. A tangy dish made out of brown lentils in a tomato broth, occupying a space somewhere between a soup and a stew, was utterly satisfying, as was a big, fat artichoke heart stewed in olive oil and served cold.

We finished our meal off with Sahin’s superb sutlaç (rice pudding), which reminded us of what’s missing in so many of the other sutlaç’s around town – rice. Sahin’s version is chockablock with grains of soft rice floating inside a thick, milky pudding. It was delicious, comforting, and – like everything else served in the restaurant – just like what “mom” makes.

Address: Orhan Adli Apaydın Sk. No:11/A, Beyoglu, Istanbul
Phone: (212)-244-2543

(photo by Yigal Schleifer)

Lades is an old school spot, a classic local lokanta serving stews and steam table favorites day in, day out. The monogrammed flatware, faded from decades of use by diners sopping up that last bit of stew with a fresh piece of white bread, indicates the sort of customer approval that we seek in a lunch spot. On one recent visit, we tried the hotpocket-like talas kebab – a stew of beef, carrots, currants, onions and pine nuts wrapped in phyllo dough. With a bowl of lentil soup, a side of okra and, for dessert, kazan dibi (“burnt pudding”), we discovered that just about everything at Lades is highly soppable and dependably good.

Indeed, if Lades were an automobile, it might be an old Volvo station wagon – nothing exotic, but safe and extremely reliable. (Equally dependable is the highly recommended, diner-like Lades 2 across the street, which serves eggs and puddings.) “Most of our customers are regulars. They know exactly what is served on which day of the week. How could we possibly change anything?” said manager Ilker bey from his post at the register.

As it is written (on the window out front), on Mondays and Thursdays you shall eat doner kebab in succulent ribbons served over rice. Tuesday is a day for Arnavut ciger, lightly fried lambs liver ramped up with red peppers.  Smothered okra, spinach with rice, roast chicken, various stews and our beloved tandir kebab are available everyday but Sunday, when the restaurant is closed. They may be dependable, but even the guys at Lades deserve a day of rest.

Address: Sadri Alisik Sok. 14, Beyoglu
Telephone: 212-251-3203

(photo by Ansel Mullins)

Regulars at Özkonak, a well-loved fixture in Cihangir’s ever-changing restaurant scene, must cluck in disapproval at the sight of a new generation of customers who walk right past the pudding display at the front and head for the steam table and its selection of prepared savory dishes in back. Though the lunch specials here are quite tasty, Özkonak is a pudding shop at heart and should be approached accordingly. To fill up on stuffed eggplant and beans before dessert is to deny yourself the milky sweet pleasures that have defined this a neighborhood institution for almost fifty years.

Tavuk göğsü, chicken breast pudding, is most often mentioned in travelers tales alongside salted Oaxacan iguana and deep-fried Vietnamese cobra. But unlike so many other bizarro edibles, the pudding doesn’t taste like chicken at all. The chicken is merely an agent of texture in this thick, milky pudding roll, bringing an unexpected – though pleasant – fibrous feel to what you’d expect to be smooth. However, we prefer Tavuk göğsü’s poultry-less cousin, kazandibi (“bottom of the cauldron” in Turkish), whose caramelized bottom layer gives it firmness and a smoky-sweet finish.

We hold Turkey’s rice pudding, firin sutlaç, in high regard but Özkonak’s is a bit too sugary for our taste, so we often opt for keşkül, an almond-based custard colored day-glo yellow. Just watching the seemingly radioactive pudding arrive at the table is exciting. Dusted with crushed almonds, keşkül and a tea is a perfect mid-afternoon snack.

If you still have room for a main course after a couple of rounds of dessert, make your way to the back and you’ll find the steamtable, stocked with well-made old standards. Stuffed cabbage, stewed vegetables, baked meatballs with fingerling potatoes and pilav are usually on offer. But if you don’t make it to the mains, no one will fault you. After all this is a pudding shop.

Address: Akarsu Caddesi 60, Cihangir
Telephone: 212-249-1307