“Old man bars”, as they are sometimes called, can be found around Istanbul but often lack the rhythm and texture of what we expect. We had all but given up on the search, until a certain little no-name joint on Tarlabaşi Bulvari attracted our interest. Every morning the owner basks in the few moments of sunlight that this otherwise dark room enjoys, by sitting behind the weathered marble counter reading the newspaper and feeding a cat that sits beside the beer taps. Beside them on the bar sits an ancient jar of pickles that reminded us of the pickled eggs and pigs ears we used to balk at in taverns back home. Inside and down a short flight of stairs, formica tables and well-worn vinyl padded chairs form neat lines around the single attraction of the place, the television. Niches in the walls hold dusty bottles of liquor like trophies from better days – Teachers, J&B, long departed brands of raki.

“This place is a birahane,” said the old man behind the bar using an antiquated term that means beer house. “Has been for thirty years.”

For a city as old as Istanbul, surprisingly, 30 years of business is a very long time. In Tarlabaşi it is nearly unheard of. The bar was born in the dark days of the eighties when the area had largely been deserted by the working class Greek families that built Tarlabaşi. It survived the demolition of hundreds of buildings for the construction of the major traffic thoroughfare, Tarlabaşi Bulvari, which now passes by its doorstep. It fared the rough and tumble nineties when villagers arrived en masse from Eastern Anatolia, finding cheap or sometimes free places to stay in the backstreets around here. And now, as the neighborhood starts to gentrify, the bar will likely see a new, younger clientele coming in for a cold one after work.

Unlike nearly every other establishment on Tarlabaşi Bulvari, there is nothing seedy about this place. And unlike any other public place in Istanbul, monastic silence reigns. Settle in for a meditative duble raki and a small plate of cheese and melon among the neighborhood old timers and you might feel a twinge of nostalgia for an Istanbul long gone or maybe that corner taproom back home.

Address: 254 Tarlabaşi Bulvari
Telephone: No phone

(Photo by Ansel Mullins)

(Editor’s Note: Our celebration of the upcoming May Day workers’ holiday continues. Today we take a look at the dining possibilities at two union halls, Istanbul style.)

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)

(Editor’s Note: We’ve been looking this week at some of the new burger places that have recently opened up in Istanbul. After trying out some of these new joints, our thoughts kept drifting back to the classic “Wet Burger” served by Kizilkayalar in Taksim. A true Turkish original, the “Wet Burger” hits so many right notes in one little package that we decided to include it in our burger roundup. Below is our original review of Kizilkayalar.)

The sign may read “Wet Burger” (“Islak Burger” in Turkish), but there’s a lot more to say about Kizilkayalar’s moist mini patties than that. How about “Heavenly Slider,” “Binge Drinker’s Delight,” or “The Best 2 Lira Ever Spent in Taksim Square?”

The Kizilkayalar experience starts from a distance, most vividly late at night. It begins with a whiff of garlic detected well across Taksim Square, then, through the bustling crowd, eyes lock onto the bright lights of the steam box holding the burger bounty. Hungry customers are finally tugged in, like a tanker on the Bosphorus, by the steady foghorn voice of the Kizilkayalar hamburger man bellowing “buyurun, buyurun, buyurun!” (roughly: “come and get it!”).

Make no mistake, the burger is wet, having been doused by an oily, tomato-based sauce before incubating in a glass-lined burger hamam. There, it becomes even wetter, the once fluffy white bun rendered a greasy, finger-licking radioactive shade of orange, both chewy and slick on either side of the garlicky beef patty. Like an order of nachos at the movies, or an elephant ear at the carnival, the wet burger is a sinful pleasure that flies in the face of our otherwise high culinary standards. But at 2 AM on a Friday night, nothing is as good as a Kizilkayalar wet burger – except for another one.

Though Kizilkayalar does have a cramped indoor seating area, we recommend eating it standing up out front. That way, it’s easier to fish a couple of coins from your pocket for the second round.

Address: Siraselviler Caddesi 6, Taksim Square (Open 24-7)
(photo by Jonathan Lewis)

A meal at Uçuncu Mevki usually doesn’t last longer than 15 minutes or cost more than 15 TL. The bustle of young backpacked diners scrambling to scribble their orders on little chits of paper that are sent right down to the kitchen on a dumbwaiter, gives us the sense that we have arrived at a serious eating source stripped of all fluff that often clutters the process.

There is something comforting if not culinarily spectacular about the food here; something like a favorite but unflattering hand-knit sweater. The hot grape leaves stuffed with rice and ground meat are usually triangular but more often than not have ruptured and gone rhombus – all the better for spooning up with the yogurt which has run amuck in the bowl. The “Mexican” potatoes, fried and then smothered in a red gravy, are very tasty but don’t prompt any visions of Oaxaca (or even spring break in Cancun, for that matter). Along with novelties like the Mexican potatoes, the standard dishes here are consistently excellent. A spicy lentil soup called ezo gelin is popular enough to keep the windows of this small eatery fogged up throughout the evening.  A side of chickpeas served over rice – as heavy as it sounds –  was surprisingly delicate.

If room remains, we suggest one of the puddings for dessert, they are better than anything in a school cafeteria and probably just as cheap.

Address: Öğüt sokak 18, Beyoglu
Telephone: No phone

(photo by Ansel Mullins)

The sign may read “Wet Burger” (“Islak Burger” in Turkish), but there’s a lot more to say about Kizilkayalar’s moist mini patties than that. How about “Heavenly Slider,” “Binge Drinker’s Delight,” or “The Best 2 Lira Ever Spent in Taksim Square?”

The Kizilkayalar experience starts from a distance, most vividly late at night. It begins with a whiff of garlic detected well across Taksim Square, then, through the bustling crowd, eyes lock onto the bright lights of the steam box holding the burger bounty. Hungry customers are finally tugged in, like a tanker on the Bosphorus, by the steady foghorn voice of the Kizilkayalar hamburger man bellowing “buyurun, buyurun, buyurun!” (roughly: “come and get it!”).

Make no mistake, the burger is wet, having been doused by an oily, tomato-based sauce before incubating in a glass-lined burger hamam. There, it becomes even wetter, the once fluffy white bun rendered a greasy, finger-licking radioactive shade of orange, both chewy and slick on either side of the garlicky beef patty. Like an order of nachos at the movies, or an elephant ear at the carnival, the wet burger is a sinful pleasure that flies in the face of our otherwise high culinary standards. But at 2 AM on a Friday night, nothing is as good as a Kizilkayalar wet burger – except for another one.

Though Kizilkayalar does have a cramped indoor seating area, we recommend eating it standing up out front. That way, it’s easier to fish a couple of coins from your pocket for the second round.

Address: Siraselviler Caddesi 6, Taksim Square (Open 24-7)
(photo by Jonathan Lewis)

The sign may read “Wet Burger” (“Islak Burger” in Turkish), but there’s a lot more to say about Kizilkayalar’s moist mini patties than that. How about “Heavenly Slider,” “Binge Drinker’s Delight,” or “The Best 2 Lira Ever Spent in Taksim Square?”

The Kizilkayalar experience starts from a distance, most vividly late at night. It begins with a whiff of garlic detected well across Taksim Square, then, through the bustling crowd, eyes lock onto the bright lights of the steam box holding the burger bounty. Hungry customers are finally tugged in, like a tanker on the Bosphorus, by the steady foghorn voice of the Kizilkayalar hamburger man bellowing “buyurun, buyurun, buyurun!” (roughly: “come and get it!”).

Make no mistake, the burger is wet, having been doused by an oily, tomato-based sauce before incubating in a glass-lined burger hamam. There, it becomes even wetter, the once fluffy white bun rendered a greasy, finger-licking radioactive shade of orange, both chewy and slick on either side of the garlicky beef patty. Like an order of nachos at the movies, or an elephant ear at the carnival, the wet burger is a sinful pleasure that flies in the face of our otherwise high culinary standards. But at 2 AM on a Friday night, nothing is as good as a Kizilkayalar wet burger – except for another one.

Though Kizilkayalar does have a cramped indoor seating area, we recommend eating it standing up out front. That way, it’s easier to fish a couple of coins from your pocket for the second round.

Address: Siraselviler Caddesi 6, Taksim Square (Open 24-7)
(photo by Jonathan Lewis)

Turkey’s take on the pizza comes in two distinct varieties. There’s the Arabesque lahmacun, a round, ultra thin-crusted snack topped with a shmear of finely ground meat and seasoning. Then there’s pide, a more substantial canoe-shaped creation that’s a specialty of Turkey’s Black Sea region. In Istanbul, pide joints are almost as common as blaring carhorns, but Şimşek Pide Salonu won our loyalty for its consistently outstanding made-to-order pide and convenient location. Passing the time at one of Şimşek’s outdoor tables on this quiet, sunny side street just off of Taksim Square is a pleasure in itself. Add to that a few pide and you’ve got a party.

To simplify the ordering process, Şimşek’s menu features a pide pictograph. As pictured, the item in question comes in three general forms: round like a pizza, and the more traditional oblong open-faced pide and calzone-like kapali pide. The main components remain the same, regardless of the shape: dough plus toppings, assembled and then fired in a pizza oven.

At this particular venue we prefer the open pide with a few toppings. The usta, or master, rolls the dough out long and thin and pinches up a ridge along the edges forming the crust which will bubble up and crackle around a chewier center, much like a good Italian pizza pie. Then comes a generous helping of Black Sea blond-colored kaşar cheese, a rich but mild cow’s cheese that hints at mozzarella. Depending on your preferences, he adds tomatoes, peppers, pastirma (slices of cured beef) or ground beef. If you so desire, he’ll even crack an egg over your pide before sliding it into the oven on a long wooden paddle.

A few minutes later the pide emerges with a nicely browned crust and soft, moist center. The final touch is a thorough glazing with melted butter. The Black Sea region is known for its top-tier dairy products, and the food from there certainly tries to prove that point. However, we suggest a pat of butter, rather than a dousing. Just tell the chef, “Az tereyağı.” That said, we would agree with the usta at the oven, who explains, “It’s just not pide without butter.”

Address: Taksim Caddesi no. 8, Taksim
Telephone: 212-249-4642

(Photo by Monique Jaques)

In New York, consider the pizza. You’ve got Famous Ray’s Pizza, Ray’s Original Pizza, World Famous Original Ray’s Pizza and so on. Ray and his imitators just wouldn’t bother if New Yorkers believed pizza was “just a slice.”

It’s the same story in Istanbul with köfte, a dish that to non-locals may seem like nothing more than grilled meatballs, but which Turks take very seriously. In Istanbul’s old city alone there’s the Historic Sultanahmet Köfte restaurant right next door to the Famous Sultanahmet Köfte restaurant, with affiliated branches battling it out throughout town. There’s even an unrelated chain of Sultanahmet Köfte restaurants, which are somewhat famous but not very historic.

We prefer to retreat from the köfte wars of Sultanahmet and get our fix from Köfteci Hüseyin, a more humble purveyor in Beyoglu, who got his start selling meatballs from a pushcart grill some 40 years ago.

Although at one point the cart was traded in for a tiny storefront just off of Taksim Square, Hüseyin still keeps it very real, with some of the best meatballs in town. On the wall is a picture of the founder from the days when he had little more than a mustache, a pair of tongs and his old grill on wheels. Though Hüseyin has since passed on, before doing so he bequeathed his tongs to his son, who now works the grill and maintains a winning recipe that combines quality, consistency and low prices.

Enter this humble shoebox of an eatery and before you can grab a seat you’ll be asked, “One portion or one and a half?” Shortly thereafter, “Side of beans?” (An order of piyaz, a salad of white beans and onion, is to köfte what coleslaw is to BBQ. Dressed in olive oil and vinegar and served chilled, this classic side is a köfte house mainstay that shouldn’t be missed.) That’s about all there is to ordering in a traditional Turkish köfte joint – and tradition is what Köfteci Hüseyin is all about.

Köfteci Hüseyin may be a classic spot, but its hand-made patties do distinguish themselves from the rest. While some places lard their meatballs with breadcrumbs, giving their köfte a somewhat rubbery consistency, Hüseyin’s patties have an unusually high meat content. Hüseyin’s silver dollar sized patties are also quite plump, allowing them to remain juicy inside while their exterior gets pleasantly charred on the grill.

Sit down for a portion and a half of Hüseyin’s köfte, served along with a big hunk of fresh bread, a dollop of spicy red pepper sauce and fresh chopped onions, and you will understand why these are not “just meatballs.”

Address: Kurabiye Sok. Akgun Is Hani 11, Beyoglu
Telephone: 212-243-7637

(Photo by Monique Jaques)