Step out of the dingy stairwell of the Rumeli Han and into Govinda’s Vejeteryan Evi and you will feel as if you’ve crossed a cosmic divide. The warm and cozy room has café tables, pillowed floor seating, walls covered with a friendly looking blue deity and gentle chants that play over the sound system. The color palette at this Indian vegetarian restaurant is dominated by orange and yellow, as if the high exposed brick walls and handsome old wooden doors were painted with vindaloo sauce and saffron. We’ve written before about the parallel universe that exists in the Taksim area’s Rumeli Han – oddball shops, anarchist bars – and Govinda’s, which is run by members of the Hare Krishna movement, fits right in. But beyond the novelty of the place there are genuine good intentions and a menu that offers some variety to the offerings of the typical Beyoglu esnaf restaurant.

“The thali system says the body should get 5 flavors to create a peaceful, balanced mental and physical state,” said Balarama, founder of Govinda and of the next-door Indian Cultural Center, who greeted us upon arrival with a smile and a slight bow, his hands pressed together.

Thali, the ubiquitous Indian lunch, is a sort of subcontinental value meal that includes four or five small bowls of food. One recent day, the thali at Govinda’s consisted of an excellent stewed eggplant with tomatoes and onions, zucchini soup, rice cooked with carrots and crowned with a little pakora, a green salad and little cookies flecked with raisins. In the eggplant dish and zucchini soup we felt the hint Indian spicing without being overwhelmed, as if the cook were rationing from a dwindling stash of garam masala. Balarama told us the cook didn’t favor heavily spiced food, but, upon request, she could be convinced otherwise. We’ll return with that in mind.

Don’t go to Govinda’s expecting an encyclopedic menu of Indian cuisine. The daily thali menu is all they serve, but the food is always fresh and accomplishes much in five flavors. This is a humble, honest operation that is vegetarian primarily and Indian incidentally. At only 9 TL for the thali menu, the only thing out of balance is all that leftover lunch money jingling around in your pocket.

Address: Istiklal Caddesi, Rumeli Han C Block, 1^st Floor
Telephone: (212) 252-7719
Web: www.govindasistanbul.com
Hours: 12pm-10pm (takeout and delivery available)

(photo by Ansel Mullins)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Address: Taksim Caddesi 14, Taksim
Telephone: No phone

(photo by Yigal Schleifer)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(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.

We arrived at Melekler on a tip from a taxi driver from the southern Turkish city of Adana, where kebab talk can get esoteric. Because Istanbul taxi drivers always seem to be from somewhere else in Turkey and tend to be deeply suspicious of the restaurant business (“rip-off,” “filthy,” and “not tasty” are among the more benign descriptions we’ve heard about various places around town), we find them to be great sources for hard-to-find regional specialties. We’ve whittled away countless hours stuck in traffic on the bridge or inching by a stadium on game night arguing the merits of köfte or learning about the rare and great testi kebabi of Yozgat and, most importantly, where to get them in Istanbul. Of all the taxi drivers we’ve surveyed, few offered up a tip as emphatically as this particular driver from Adana telling us that we must have a durum at Melekler. So, one week later, we took a seat among all of that stock and ordered a durum, ala Adana, of course.

Mehmet usta, from his post at the grill, said there’s not much to it, “Durum should be good and it should be cheap and I’m not skimping on the materials here.” His statement takes for granted a bachelors degree in butchery (the meat for a true kebab is cut with a special knife called a zirh, see demonstration here) a great instinct for balancing of flavor and preternatural grill skills. Mehmet worked a group of long skewers over an intense white-coaled fire with ease until it was ready and swiped the meat onto a wide flat piece of lavaş. He added onions, sumac, and plenty of parsley before rolling and giving the finished product a quick, valedictory roasting over the coals. The result was as good as promised.
When dealing with top-tier durum it can be hard to pinpoint what it is that makes one durum so much better than another. That’s a discussion for folks from Adana. But we do know it when finely chopped fatty lamb, fresh onions and some simple spices create smoky harmony within a fresh flatbread as it did one recent afternoon at Melekler. As Mehmet usta said, it should be cheap and good, that’s it – a logic neither we nor most Istanbul taxi drivers would disagree with.

Address: Ipek Sokak 1, Taksim
Telephone: 212 243 0585
(located across from the entrance to Aya Triada Greek Orthodox Cathedral in Taksim)

(photo by Ansel Mullins)

Turkish stereotypes like to portray the Laz (an ethnic group from Turkey’s far northeast “Black Sea region”) as amusing, ignorant mountain folk, who talk with an odd accent and dance a wild jig. They are the beloved butt of the one-liners but, thankfully, there is more to the Laz than the caricatures of Dursun, Temel and their redneck adventures. There is the food.

At Klemuri, which in the Laz language refers to the chain which holds the cauldron over the fire, the Karadeniz tabaği, offers a nice sampling of Black Sea specialties: thick sarma made from chard leaves stuffed with a hearty mixture of meat and rice, sautéed onions with crushed walnuts, tangy pickled beans fried in a skillet (turşu kavurma), and patates kavurma, a sort of potato salad served hot. Of course, on the side came a basket of cornbread, the hallmark of the Black Sea.

On a recent visit, we were particularly happy to find Klemuri’s muhlama, a sort of Laz fondue, heavy on the cornmeal and butter. A skillet of cheese fresh from the “yayla” shot through with cornmeal and fried in rich butter is a delicious reminder of the highland pastures of the Kaçkar Mountains. But be careful, one portion can easily feed two or three people. And you will want to save room for a piece of Laz boreği, a sweet pastry filled with a scoop of pudding.

As if these menu staples were not enough, Klemuri offers daily specials from the Laz kitchen including pepeçura, ekşaş, mafuş and several others that we’ve never heard of before. Feeling a bit overwhelmed? Thinking of ordering the crepe just to be on the safe side? Just open your mouth and say hamsi.

Address: Tel Sokak 2/1, Beyoglu
Telephone: 212-292-3272

(photo by Ansel Mullins)

“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: 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)