Eating Istanbul part two

Meeting friends of friends from Istanbul made me realise that I'd forgotton to post this piece. That and talking all evening about the food I missed so much.

The rain obviously isn’t going to stop and the spice market beckons. The market itself is brash and touristy, but the streets around it are like the blood vessels pumping life in and around the covered market, the places where every day purchases are made. The further away you go from the spice market, the more down to earth it gets. I have a shopping list. 

 

What I thought was called kirmizi biber turns out to be called pul bibir, crushed and flaked pepper. It’s soft, slightly smokey and varies in heat from mild to a slight kick. Various types are sold from huge pyramids on market stalls and spice shops. Taste them first, check the quality. Some are oiled, some smoked. I was told that the oiled is better; a day later, the reverse was true. In the end it’s down to personal preference. It’s used on everything from bread and toast to stews and rice dishes and it’s on most tables in cafes and restaurants. It’s addictive and I’d run out of my supply. You can find it in the UK occasionally under the name Aleppo chillies. 

Into my bag goes Z’attar with pistachios and another with ground hazelnuts, camomile flowers for tea, Muscat raisins and freshly roasted Turkish hazelnuts. Opposite the entrance to the spice market, the Turkish coffee shop has its usual queue. Within, a line of bored looking youths form a chain, filling, closing and stapling up bags of Turkish coffee.

Despite the downpour the streets are packed with life, as locals meet tourists, shopping, discovering, buying, tasting, discussing, face to face with all that is edible in Istanbul. Food is everywhere; on every corner at all times of the day, there’s time for something to eat or drink. It’s mid October and time for chestnuts, roasted corn on the cob and the ever present simit (sesame seeded twists of crisp bread) from the street vendors.

Turn away from the spice bazzar and explore the warren of shops specialising in the most improbable items ; from wooden sieves and hessian to knives and ropes.

I’m seeking Altan, a sweet shop that’s been in business since the American war of independence. I’m led astray by a shoe shine man who points me in the wrong direction, but my diversion means I find pomegranate juice. It’s early in the season, still sour, and served with sugar on the side but I can’t resist. 

Altan is tucked anonymously amongst the hardware shops and low key cafes on Küçük Pazarı. The charming owner is on the phone, and apologies for his inattention. 

The shop is unflashy, with wooden panelling and glass containers stacked with Turkish delight, and bottles of boiled sweets. The pistachio Turkish delight is wonderful as is the rose flavour. Exit Altan weighted down with boxes of Turkish delight.

By the Bosphurus a street vendor is grilling misir (sweet corn). It’s very mealy, not the best I’ve ever eaten, and I suspect that this is the end of the season, but it’s certainly the cheapest – 1 TL about 30pence. That takes care of lunch, I’m certainly not hungry for anything else. 

The rain continues. A good opportunity to take in the Bianale. It’s hidden away besides the Istanbul Modern, an amazing thought provoking exhibition that crosses centuries, cultures and time zones. 

It’s about 4pm when I emerge, hungry and tired.  A café cooking mackerel on a griddle calls me. I can’t resist.   No need for dinner this evening.

I love Turkish breakfast; my  hotel serves lovely little seseme rolls stuffed with cheese; melon, olives, good feta cheese, tomato and cucumbers and sage tea.

A walk to the mosaicmuseum, bumping into the Istanbul marathon on the way. The museum is ingenious. A former palace, they simply built a wall around the remains. The mosaics are spectacularly beautiful, rare and unusual.

All trams to the Galata bridge are scuppered by the Istanbul marathon so I start walking. Taking a short cut, I come across one of the citys’ many ancient Turkish baths and on impulse go inside.The wooden shoes given to walk into the interior take some getting used to but the surroundings are beautiful and a comfortable shelter from the rainy day. Afterwards I end up chatting to the man who runs the shop, drinking mint tea whilst watching tennis on the courtyard television, and discussing the merits of restaurants in Istanbul, Edinburgh and London. 

By the Galata bridge, next to the fish market there's the strip of mackerel sandwich sellers I was seeking. Balık ekmek – literaly translated means ‘fish bread’ The men are adapt at cooking the freshly caught fillets of mackerel. Filling the rolls with a fillet, adding raw onion, salad, chilli and a slice of lemon. Wet and windy as the day is, it's still cheap, simple and some of the best street food in the city.  There's a place on the sea front at Brighton that does fresh mackerel sandwiches. I wish they'd copy the Istanbul method.

The fish stalls here are buzzing, some fish still alive and swimming around in bowls. And naturally, the cats do pretty well.

 By now the rain is tipping down. On the bridge; the myriad fishermen carry on whatever the weather. I'm too wet to get my camera out.

It’s my aim to find the baklava shop I visited a few days earlier (see Istanbul part one) and buy baklava and quince to take home. In the rain I take a wrong turn and manage to get lost. It takes me an hour to find my way again.  I’m cross, fed up and very wet. But I find the shop and packs of beautiful jewel coloured quince and hand made baklava go into my bag.

 It’s still pouring. Three academics taking tea in the baklava shop accompany me back to  Istiklal street. They are charming company, well informed and politically astute. I tell them I want to find Ficcin. I’m not in the least hungry, but miserably cold and soggy.  Circassian dumplings for an opportunity to warm up and dry out. 

An hour later I’m in the rain again, and another café looms, this one with beautiful art deco tiles.

Time for tea and dessert. And raised eyebrows back at my hotel when I ask for old newspapers to stuff my sodden boots with. 

Monday I’m back to the shops by the spice market, this time to find the hidden gem that is the Rüstem Pasha Mosque. The Mosque is just to the right of the Spice Market, below the larger Suleymaniye Mosque. It's worth searching for; the exterior and interior are covered in beautiful Isnik tiles.

 There's another side to the market; a slightly strange one where flowers, bulbs, seeds, birds animals and yes, leeches, are sold side by side.

 Then; across the river to Kadikoy on the Asian side for the market and lunch.

 
 

Ciya is legendary, not only in Istanbul but around the world, describing itself as a garden of lost cultures and tastes.  It’s busy when I arrive, but there’s space. It’s not a starched tablecloth have you booked kind of place. In common with many Turkish restaurants, the food is laid out at the entrance, hot food to the left, salads to the right. You ask, you point. Salads are weighted out once you’ve plated them.
 

Oregono and pomegranate salad

Ciya specialises in food with memories. The owner, Musa Dagdeviren travels the country collecting recipes, some forgotton in recent memory. People go to eat food they grew up with. This is food with soul. It’s delicious, delicate, wonderful. Some of the food I've never seen before. I don't know enough Turkish and no one knows enough English to translate. The green stems on my plate are described as a green vegetable. I obviously have to return with Turkish speakers.

Apple stuffed with minced lamb and a stew of lamb with quince

The desserts are unique; candied walnuts and olives, a cream that tastes like marshmallow which is actually made from a tree bark. I’m brought a spiced tea, heavy with cloves, cinnamon, walnuts.

There are a few chefs I dream about sourcing ingredients and cooking with; Musa Dagdeviren tops the list.

 

  The first time I came to the market in Kadioy, it was mulberry season. Now it's pomegranates and chestnuts.

There are fruits I’ve never seen or heard of.  I had to do a bit of research to find out what these brown/green fruits like small plums are called; jujub...More here

 These look like crab apples but I suspect not...

It’s stopped raining long enough for a walk around the quay side at Kadikoy to be pleasant. The railway station entrance at Haydarpasa pier is atmospheric. The cafe houses a rather splendid old tea machine.

 

Back on the European side I half heartedly search for cherry or pomegranate flavoured Turkish delight that isn’t luridly coloured and artificially flavoured. I give up and buy rose sweets instead.

Another restaurant recommendation, this one less traditional. No 9 is slightly upmarket, proud of their imaginative use of seasonal ingredients. They’re not impressed by my turning up at 6pm asking for a table for one. Here’s the thing when travelling, either alone or with others. You’ve been out since the crack of dawn. You’re still out at 5pm, too far from the hotel to return, feeling every so slightly scruffy and uncomfortable. Watching well dressed beautiful people saunter through the same street as you, you wish your backpack would melt away. 5pm is too early to find somewhere to eat. Heavens, if it was Spain you could probably go for lunch. So you find a café or a bar to while away the time before you can decently walk into a restaurant and order. You start to wish that you had returned to your hotel for a shower and change of clothes. And was it such a good idea to buy smoked fish.

So here I am at No 9, laden down with bags and feeling ever so slightly scuffy. They hustle me to the back of the restaurant, away from the entrance area. I almost expect them to put a screen around me. The food when it arrives is lovely. Delicately prepared. The selection of stuffed vegetables each have their individual taste and charm. 

The lamb kofta are served with wheat berries. But I feel there’s a sigh of relief when I leave. The restaurant is almost empty.

It’s my last day; the archaeology museum is simply splendid...

My last lunch; a workers café near my hotel. Can I fit anything else into my suitcase. No. And I have enough biber to last me a long time. Till next time Istanbul.