Some people go for the Blue Mosque, the Aga Sophia or a Bosphorus trip. I returned to Istanbul for the food. Particularly the mackerel sandwiches sold by the Galatea bridge, and dried flaked pepper, pul biber.
In a modest looking café, we’re introduced us to the two chefs preparing vegetables to stuff.
We’re brought Turkish coffee, chai and dishes of kaymak – clotted cream made from water buffalo milk, and rose petal jam both made on site.
The cream is nothing like our English clotted cream, it’s lighter, as if clotted cream could be skimmed, and works beautifully with the delicate jam. Next up, the waiter prepares a dish called menumen, eggs, scrambled together with peppers, tomatoes & spices, brought to the table sizzling hot.
Before we leave we’re introduced to the classic milk and mastic based puddings of Istanbul. Here they even grind their own rice. More about them later.
Next destination is the borek shop. I thought I knew boreks, I didn’t. Here in Turkey shops specialise. The bread shop sells bread. The borek shop sells only boreks. Four different types. For water boreks the pastry is boiled first, the layers filled with a crumbly cheese and baked, like a lasagne.
Plain borek we dust with icing sugar. Two stuffed versions, one with spinach, and the other with meat are delicious. The pastry is made with yogurt which gives it a unique stretchy, chewy texture. Knowing that we are only at the start of our journey we hold back and don’t finish our plates.
Barely five minutes walk away we reach the pickle shop. You can’t miss it.
The window display is completely filled with bottles and jars of seasonal colourful pickles. On the shelves are display bottles of pickles that date back to the 1920’s and 30’s. They pickle whatever is in season. When they sell out, they shut up shop until pickle season next year. At the back of the shop, pickles are sold loose by the kilo. Everything from garlic, baby okra, the size of finger nails (the only okra worth eating to my taste), baby aubergines, and various peppers and chillies. I’m tempted by the pickled green almonds but not sure how I’ll get them back to the UK.
Back to our reason for visiting; black turnip pickle juice which they sell by the half pint.
It’s delicious; bracing, slightly sweet, and to those of you who may have been introduced to pickle backs this year, Turks have been drinking pickle juice for many years. It’s also well known in Eastern Europe as a pick me up and hangover cure. One of the people on the tour says her Polish grandmother gave them pickle juice every morning when they were children.
There’s a great article HERE about the Turkish love affair with pickles
Onwards through the streets of Beyoklu, Meghan telling the familiar and sad story of shops changing hands from butcher and baker to antique shop and frozen yogurt chain. I loved the greenness of this grocer, and the size of the leeks
We emerge from the back streets onto the busy thoroughfare of Istiklal cad, the Oxford Street of Istanbul. Almost immediately we turn into the tiny wooden doorway of Inci famous for its custard filled profiteroles.
You may think it’s not exactly a Turkish dish but try telling Inci that. This is the kind of place that in London would be torn down and replaced by a chain.
The Galataray fish market is surrounded by restaurants and cafes and lined with tiny stalls selling fried fish. Yusef has been standing over his fryer since 1961. Tell him his fish is good and he’ll shrug and say, yes, ofcourse it is. Perched on little stools at the back we sample anchovies and boned sardines.
Salted. They must be salted, and served with lemon. So simple and made with the freshest fish, which Yusef buys from the fish shop opposite him.
Note the way that the gills have been turned inside out to show the freshness of the fish. We’re introduced to fish that’s just come into season. Some don’t translate, they’re local varieties.
Onto a small café; we’ve been warned and given notice about this. Meghan has explained that nothing has to be tried, and we won’t be chucked off if a dish is not to our taste. So here we are, facing tripe soup.
Into the very white liquid she spoons garlic puree, pul biber and chilli vinegar, telling us that we’ll need them. It tastes, not surprisingly, of garlic and chilli vinegar. The tripe itself has been cut into tiny pieces. It’s a texture that’s not unpleasing but not to our taste. I feel sorry for the restaurant which must see tourists come and go, soup untested.
Around the corner is the baklava shop. It's quince season, and resplendent in the window, a tray of preserved quince, shiny, copper, glowing.
We’re given a plate of assorted baklava including chocolate (not to my taste) pistachio and walnut. And chai. We need chai.Next comes the quince, served with clotted cream to cut the sweetness. It's delicious, one of the best things I taste during my trip. I'll return to buy some to take back to London.
Opposte the baklava shop is a butcher with an amazing display of lamb organs, worthy of Harrods.
Livers, lungs, kidneys, all hung beautifully. Lungs apparently aren’t for human consumption. People buy and cook them for the neighbourhood wild cats. These animals may live on the streets but they’re well fed.
It’s not even lunchtime yet. Weaving in and out of alleyways, there’s always something new to look at, more food stalls, cafes, more passionate people plying their wares.
A quick stop for what we’re told is the best Turkish Coffee in Istanbul. We’re asked if we can guess what the mystery ingredient is, as they’re not sharing.
Meghan produces a package with a flourish. ‘you’d forgotton about this hadn’t you’ she says. It’s Tavuk Göğüsü a milk pudding made with chicken breast, very fine shreds added for texture, not taste. With cinnamon on top, and the bottom caramelised, it’s delicious but we’re saving ourselves for lunch.
Ficcin specialises in food from the Caucasus Mountains, bordering Georgia. We eat delicious meat filled ravioli, very similar to pirogi; they are tossed with pul biber scented oil and served with a yogurt sauce; dishes of mint, sumac and pul biber are added and mixed in.
We’re also served a dish of chicken pureed with walnuts and garlic, and a salad of cubed celeriac. Somehow we find room for a second dish of ravioli. Yum.
And on to Sahin Lokantasi. From the outside I’d probably be too scared to enter. It’s a typical working man’s café, and yes, it’s full of men eating lunch. There’s not a single woman inside, but safety in numbers, we enter and go upstairs. It’s a simple place, famous for its range of water bath dishes. Up to 40 are prepared every day, and the earlier you arrive, the more choice you have.
A huge framed selection of reviews has pride of place. Sahin is not exactly off the culinary map.
We are brought aubergine stuffed with minced beef, courgette in yogurt sauce, and a bean stew. All very simple, and expertly prepared with great skill. The chefs here take it for granted that they're as good as any Michelin stared chef.
On the way out, the place has emptied and there’s a woman eating, on her own.
Note the plate of cloves to freshen the breath.
Finally, our last taste of Istanbul for the day, and the beloved street snack of Turkey, the kokorec. A long roll of lamb, with lamb intestines wound around the outside, and lamb sweetbreads in the centre. Cooked over charcoal, a slice is cut off, chopped very finely with peppers, tomatoes, wild thyme and pul biber added, and the lot piled onto fresh bread.
It’s totally delicious and I can see why the Turks fought for the right to continue to sell it. In 2003 when membership of the EU was being prepared, word spread about the possible banning of certain animal parts, including intestines. What sausage makers would do hasn’t been considered. Songs were sung about it, t shirts worn,all to protect a product that is dear to the hearts of the Turkish population. We love it.
We repair to a local bar to discuss further recommendations. What a fantastic tour. Totally worth it to see behind the veneer of the city. Day one in Istanbul. Dinner unnecessary.
nice pics and story!
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