When one arrives in this bonny city where history greets visitors from every corner, it is only natural to seek an ‘authentic’ meal in the Sultanahmet area in Fatih. There, the restaurants cater for the tastes and wallets of the passing through foreigner in themed restaurants that try to evoke images of village cooking and Anatolian authenticity. I avoid places like that, but in fairness, these places are quite nice to look at, and their proximity to historical splendour is of course attractive for someone who is trying to cram in as much Istanbul as they can in a few days.
There are many shops where one could get her sugary baklava fix, because isn’t that a famous dish? Just don’t ask the Greeks. The recent sharp decrease in visitors is palpable. The forecourt between the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sofia, normally abuzz with travelers, is for now no more populated than a market square of a lesser known city. For dishes like baklava, prepared on huge baking sheets, then waiting for prompt consumption, this slow trickle means that now they just don’t sell them as fast as nuts, butter and crunchy yufka pastry would require. But the finest kadayıf in town is neither found in Fatih nor in Taksim. Kadıköy? That’s a fair guess too, but again, no. Surprisingly, my most loved source is from a suburb that would take one 30 minutes to reach from Taksim by public bus. It’s in Alibeyköy, not a place where sightseers will stray unless they got lost in the Eyüp Sultan area and keep stumbling north. And the establishment is called Beyzade. Beyzade is a title given to the sons of noble families. As Alibeyköy is named indeed after the son of a dignitary by name of Gazi Evrenos: my digression into history and language explanations are somewhat validated. So one could connect all sorts of sugar-coated clichés of the fairytale side of the Ottoman empire to an outing at Beyzade. Focusing solely on social life, culture, the grandeur of the upper castes: it was a life of opulent aesthetic constructions, arabesque ceramic tiles, hamams, of music and cultural renaissance. And of Cafe houses (if you were a man). The food traditions from those days are still very prevalent in the modern Turkish cuisines today, proudly carried forward. One of the peaceful fragments lingering from those bygone days. I don’t mind. Beyzade proudly draws attention to its origins, something you will see over and over when you walk past shop fronts and restaurants in Turkey. And why wouldn’t you, coming from Gaziantep, one of UNESCO’s world gastronomy cities, where 60% of its working population are employed in the food industry (source). Gaziantep, the ultimate home of so many of Turkey’s favourite dishes. Gelin Bohça is a name that is quite frequently used for pastry dishes, and the interpretation of what this means differs widely. Literally it is the parcel, the pieces, that a bride brings into the marriage. Beyzade’s Gelin Bohça is a beautiful rendering of kadayıf. Like in a Şöbiyet (a type of baklava filled with clotted cream, and absolutely to be consumed the day it's made), a sheet of kaymak mingles amidst the generous layers of pistachios.
What surprised me pleasantly the first time I ever ate from Beyzade is how light-handed they are on the use of sugar. After over two years in the Middle East and Turkey I have become accustomed to the sweetness that is the hallmark of local desserts, or a sweet palate generally. I am now well prepared when I am offered tea, and pre-empt any tests of sugar tolerance with the request of “no sugar, please”. That was more an issue in North Iraq where tea generally came out primed, ready to deliver a sugar shock. Or perhaps I should say where your half glass of sugar was dissolved by some tea?
But Beyzade pastry shows a constraint on the sugar, letting the other ingredients take the limelight. Pistachios and the clotted kaymak cream are of outstanding quality, fresh looking and tasting. The tel kadayıf (pastry strings) have a wonderful crunch, and are ever-so-gently met, dew like, by the syrup. Add a glass of tea, with or without sugar whatever your taste bud’s behest, and for a short moment let your imagination run wild: be transported to some olden days, too perfect to have ever existed. Colorful woven carpets, the distant sound of a reedy ney flute and a fork full of old-times culinary perfection.
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AuthorInnate curiosity, learned (discovered) deep love and appreciation for Turkey, a bit of time at my hands, and always hungry: voila, a food blogger! Archives
September 2019
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