. → 65 me! ar, my 34-year-old 34-year-old my ar, ş APPY BIRTHDAY TO TO BIRTHDAY APPY Except it’s not my birthday – far birthday not my Except it’s – if crockery My in fact. it, from disagrees. – it that call can you in front plate paper The pink in balloons and covered of me, If only all breakfasts could taste, and look, and look, taste, could all breakfasts If only of alleys of old in the labyrinth Eating shouting HAPPY BIRTHDAY in bubble letters, letters, in bubble HAPPY BIRTHDAY shouting breakfast: my of folds under the weight a decadent into milk transformed buffalo in a sticky and slathered cream blob of clotted Hello, honey. of comb-flecked mess like this. Hidden away in the backstreets in the backstreets away Hidden this. like on a I crouch Bazaar, Spice of ’s seems be to an in what stool plastic kids' food in While Turkish building. abandoned new London is seriously – pretty en vogue hip new cool new restaurants, cookbooks, intended, as it was – this is the cuisine chefs stripped and pretension. of gloss and some hand-holding, requires Istanbul Ya Esin where that’s Istanbul-born street-food guide comes in. On guide street-food Istanbul-born more she nudges with laden a table doilies, each me, towards party plates children’s olives, withpiled high feta cheese, circular with along bagel-esque, and meats is the crusty one; açma portions of bread. is the soft, dreamy lovechild of a brioche of and a lovechild dreamy is the soft, kind of my sightseeing. This is croissant. H

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Photograph by age fotostock / Alamy Stock Photo MAIN COURSE MAIN 64

Buried deep in the markets and cobbled Buried deep in the markets of food, of Istanbul is a whole world streets – and everything to wonderful weird from finds a Hannah Summers in between. relaxation thriving culinary scene where bustling corner and ritual collide on every

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alancha.com replies, nodding proudly, proudly, nodding replies, cooking in the city. cooking in the city. “shredded, boiled “shredded, of the most inventive chicken, with sugar, milk, milk, with sugar, chicken, (yes, that’s 19) of some 19) (yes, that’s rice and .” Once fed fed Once rice and cinnamon.” wade through 19 courses through 19 wade to Ottoman sultans at the nearby the nearby at sultans Ottoman to the tasting menu and you’ll by street food dishes. Opt for tavuk gögsü this tavuk is one palace, Topkapi OTHER CITY EATS EATS CITY OTHER Vefa Bozacisi Vefa operation This shop has been in selling one of the most since 1876, – boza. The famous dishes in Istanbul in southern originated drink, which is made with fermented Russia, thick, makes a creamy, , which topped slightly sweet liquid that’s travel miles with cinnamon. People (leather benches, to sip it; the setting adds to the historic antique mirrors) vefa.com.tr glamour. Siirt seref buryan Siirt seref of tender Head here for a filling lunch been slowly cooked over lamb that’s side the On ground. the in holes deep you’ll have a fragrant made of and currants. rice, chicken, which wrapped in a thin pastry, It’s cooks into a hard shell that you'll with your cutlery need to thwack contents spill out The to break into. and you can pile in to your feast in a raucous, local setting. Itfaiye Caddesi 4, Fatih Alancha Istanbul first Demirasal may have Kemal made his name as a professional he’s but nowadays windsurfer, Alancha, At all about the kitchen. newest restaurant, he’s the chef’s inspired often created a menu that’s While much of the city’s food is scoffed on of the city’s While much of the city’s, if not the country’s, most famous most if not the country’s, of the city’s, of no hint has its name, despite which, dishes, Who needsapple pie? in its flavour. chicken the meyhanes in these old parts, the streets another – are of tavernas versions – Turkish culinary survive how traditions glimpse into “This city is exactly in modern Istanbul. Then, of course, Then, of course, I offer hopefully. If “?” there’s the sweet stuff. Esin the sweet stuff. there’s worn- a small, into disappears in shop while I wait looking out who two to grandpas next the street Rolexes try sell to their best me knock-off a spoonful and “Take used trainers. and, er, It’s when she returns. she says it is,” what guess of something sugary; bowl an grey a gloopy, with combined custard like texture unfamiliar my lips and,to sticks It floss. stringy candy alarmingly, won’t unstick. rather Esin pudding,” chicken-breast “That’s only. The CLOCKWISE CLOCKWISE MAIN: FROM Bosphorus at night; the Istanbul Pide Master; Kadikoy pide from market; the Istanbul Pide Master; different breads Turkish sold on the streets; and breads sweet intestines being mussels prepped; boza on the street; drink – a sweet with cinnamon

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Photograph by (main) Hackenberg/ullstein bild via Getty Images; (market) Peter Eastland; (bread) Hilke Maunder / Alamy Stock Photo intestines that have been have that intestines soaked in milk, friedsoaked in milk, and stuffed in bread. The result result is The in bread. stuffed a salty sandwich that tastes far tastes sandwicha salty that better than I’ll ever make it sound. make ever I’ll than better Passion for food is obvious, and evident and evident for food is obvious, Passion IF HEALTH- IF CONSCIOUS ISTANBULITES THEY EXIST, COME DON'T THESE TO CROWDED BACKSTREETS everywhere I look, from the old man who man the old everywhere from I look, of teetering a tray balancing the streets strolls off bits of dough plucking on his head, bread who girl the six-year-old fuel his journey, to to kerbside sides of her mouth the with stuffs of her a picture I take and demands mussels, achievements. chubby-cheeked , then – think of it as his stone oven until it’s a it’s until oven his stone – snack moreish weighty, If health-conscious and egg and tosses it into moltencrisp on the bottom, on the top. On A the side? on the top. with minced meat, cheesewith minced meat, thimble of tea, naturally. of tea, thimble a Turkish pizza. He tops it tops He pizza. a Turkish pide of pide version Istanbulites exist – and I’m Istanbulites a grin appears as he rolls out his out a grin as he rolls appears assured they do, even in a city with even a they do, assured you’re nothing in this city), a hint of in this city), a hint nothing you’re modest life expectancymodest in the mid-seventies But beneath that moustache (without one moustache that beneath But too. We weave through the through weave We too. alleys of narrow packed, from shops selling anything baskets washing neon-green arriving at before scales, antique to respected most of the area’s the workplace Pide – the notorious or Istanbul IPM, baker particularly happy, not looking He’s Master. “Sometimes is. he never then apparently but states. Esin he doesn’t,” often more he smiles, – they don’t come to these crowded ancient – they these don’t come to crowded by been trampled have that backstreets Over and more. Ottomans Persians, Romans, cramming the lanes, I walk few hours the next in deep-fried fish known as hamsi then cheese, then more then bread, cheese, and food – sweet breads of street daddy the big “We need caffeine,” Esin declares. declares. Esin need caffeine,” “We 66 Tea, it seems, is as celebrated by Turks Turks by is as celebrated it seems, Tea, two city straddles biggest Turkey’s residents While local Behind me a sixty-something moustachioed Behind me a sixty-something – scurries maker tea neighbourhood – the man two- bitter, distributing the building through workers. to tea glasses of Turkish inch-high a tray hauls that a rope tugs mate his Nearby, stairs of fifteen up and down flights of brews system. pulley ingenious but on a creaky the a coffee that over it’s but Brits, as it is by “Drinking coffee happens. serious stuff really – women session in Istanbul a therapy is like their about it while complaining sip to gather soon presented I’m me. tells Esin husbands,” – a stuff of the dark cup with china a small, groggy sugary my to blow sediment-laden, relationship Then comes the brain. morning mother- your need impress to advice: “If you If her a good coffee.” make just you in-law, simple. that it were only district on in the Fatih and here continents, traditions of the Bosphorus, side the European very taken seriously. this are Forget likes and old, young the locals, supermarkets; here (the inside’s stalls outer the bazaar’s at gather buy to throng) tourists bum-bagged the where in tower olives shiny Plump, their produce. their name the stands, across heaps precarious city from the Turkish by dictated and taste of stalls queue at People theywhich originate. milk sheep’s but cheese, any cheese – not just a method wrap, a goat-skin into feta stuffed smell and its own unique pungent creates that ceilingsstall from dangle ‘Sausages’ flavour. nuts and stuffed – colourful skins with plastic that, energy molasses; protein-packed a yourev will coffee, withcombined that drink. energy any than up more their produce buy come to this is on the streets, they it, consume where → LOCALS SPILL OUT ONTO THE STREETS AT EVERY CLOCKWISE FROM MAIN: The retired RESTAURANT, Haydarpasa station building; looking towards Kadikoy; WITH TABLES wet burger stalls in Taksim Square; CREAKING

→ like Vegas,” Esin tells me. She’s referring, and chaotic the rest of Istanbul is – relentless best mate here), we negotiate the backstreets of course, to the raki that’s drunk at these traffic; smoggy pollution mixed with sticky to Balo Sokak – a narrow alley, no more than meyhanes – a 47%, aniseed-infused, cloudy- heat; boats zigzagging haphazardly across the a couple of metres wide, with bar after bar of looking alcohol that’s downed with devotion. murky Bosphorus strait, transporting the city’s punters sitting on low wooden stools glugging “We call it lion’s milk – it will make you feel 14 million population to a skyline punctuated and raki to a rock soundtrack. like a lion when you drink some." She leans by elaborate mosque domes and towers. While Brits might turn to a at the in and whispers conspiratorially: "You know, Kadiköy, by comparison, is peaceful. end of a boozy night, here in Istanbul it’s a Hannah, what happens at the raki table stays We trace the side of the water past the respected dish that’s eaten at any time of at the raki table. Exactly like Vegas.” rusty structures of abandoned, graffitied the day (ours are for breakfast, naturally). Luckily my friend has flown in for the carriages, down to the retired but grand 1909 Hungry groups of friends gather at one side high-rolling debauchery. On Esin’s Haydarpasa station building, now of the vast pedestrian thoroughfare of Taksim instructions, we book into a home to the Mythos meyhane. Square, beneath the neon red and yellow meyhane located on the The walls are lined with blue lights of Kizilkayalar, a 24-hour shop. In their less-visited Asian side of the and white tiles, and plush hands they hold small, soggy paper packages. city. Taking the ferry over red velvet drapes from the Not , but burgers. Wet ones. In glass, gives a sense of how vast ceiling, but it’s the food hammam-inspired boxes, squidgy parcels that really matters here. of bread and meat sweat themselves into a Small sharing dishes are moist delicacy that’s perfect post-raki fodder. careered around on a I give the owner two lira and take a bite of a trolley for us to pick from: hot bun saturated in a garlicky sauce aubergine with cheese, and stuffed with a token sliver of a patty (veal, vine leaves, deliciously salty apparently). It’s far from gourmet, but there’s samphire, seabass with dill. something undeniably addictive about it, as Photograph by Santi Rodriguez; Peter Horree; Image Source / Alamy Stock Photo Overwhelmed with choice, we the raucous queue behind me testifies. take them all, with several and Hell, why stop now? I hand over some a bottle of raki on the side. What happens at change for another. In a city where delicious the raki table, etc … old culinary traditions are infused with more Fuelled and ready for a party, we follow modern approaches like this, you can ignore the lead of the locals who rely faithfully on the blockbuster city sights. Just walk the hipster-esque Beyoglu, back on European streets and you’ll find your own. f turf. This too is a massive eating area, where meyhane culture has thrived for centuries. “Try any place, they’re all good,” Esin had told me – something which would land a London tourist in the deadly red glare of an Angus BOOKING INFO Steakhouse queue off Leicester Square. But Culinary Backstreets runs foodie she’s right. Locals spill out onto the streets at walking tours through various parts every restaurant, tables creaking under the of the city – from £50 including all weight of cold and beers. It’s well past food, culinarybackstreets.com; Turkish midnight, and Istanbul Caddesi, the city’s Airlines offers return flights from main shopping thoroughfare, is as rammed £120 return, turkishairlines.com; visit as Oxford Street during the Christmas sales. goturkey.com for more information. Consulting our phones (Google maps is your

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