Istanbul’s streets are lined with sweet shops, all fronted with glass cases stacked high with piles of colorful, sugary lokum (Turkish delight). Some even come kebab-style, tall towers of Turkish delight, individual portions freshly sliced. But, there’s more to Istanbul than the obvious. Istanbul Eats, an award-winning blog and food tour, was created by expats, Ansel Mullins and Yigal Schleifer.
American expat Megan Clark meets me on a rainy Saturday morning for a private tour. We head straight into the narrow alleyways of the Old City where our first stop is a late morning snack of sweetbreads. 26-year old Gorkem was given two choices when he turned 18: he could go to University, or his Father would pay a master artisan to teach Gorkem a trade, as an apprentice. Gorkem chose the fine art of slowly turning three different kinds of sweetbreads over hot coals.
It may sound like a simple job, but Gorkem is so popular, he’s put all the other vendors out of business. And, when he has to take a day off, customers notice his stand-ins just didn’t produce the same sandwiches. Gorkem does so well, when his three skewers of meat are gone, so is he. Megan tells me the trick is in the timing. Go too early, it won’t be ready, too late, and he’ll be gone. Midday feels about right.
We take almond and hazelnut halvah with us into a courtyard dating back to the Ottoman Empire where a few old men sit around small, plastic white tables drinking tea. We sit down on stools where I learn that Turkish tea is the perfect thing to wash down halvah.
We walk off the mornings treats with a walk to the residential Fatih neighborhood to try Boza, a fermented millet drink at a cafe with original tile floors dating back to 1876, and art deco mirrors. The drink is thick and milky, topped with cinnamon and roasted chick peas.
We arrive in the Kurdish neighborhood in time for lunch at a restaurant owned by a noble Arab family since the late 19th century. Traditional pilaf is moulded into a rounded dome of pastry sliced open to reveal a mound of rice, chicken and raisins. But the best part is the baklava for dessert, made by a neighborhood woman who I’m told never leaves her home.
We discuss everything from local food, to the latest wine boom, and what it’s been like living in a place that used to conjure up images of rat-infested prisons a la Midnight Express, but has now become an exotic symbol of East meets West with an enviable economy.
