Ramadan Kebabs in Istanbul

Keywords:	Grilling ¦ Traditional ¦ Turkey / Turkish Cuisine ¦ Behind the scenes ¦ Memorable Meals ¦ Baking ¦ Mediterranean Cuisine ¦ Reader Contributed ¦ Reportage
Translations:	Español
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You could visit a country for a lifetime and always remain a tourist, if it were not for a few golden-hearted people proud of their country's heritage and eager to make it better known abroad. Last year I received this comment about my Istanbul's Egyptian Bazaar article:

A reader after my own mind! We exchanged a couple emails but I did not know when I'd have a chance to take on his kind offer. And then, a few months ago, a couple of friends decided to swim across the Dardanelles strait - from Europe to Asia in under an hour. I'm more of an armchair jock, but I joined the party as a way to visit another time my beloved Turkey. While my friends where fighting to decide who was the biggest jock, I contacted Utkun to take on his offer of finding authentic kebabs. All the other articles I tried to write failed to meet the standards of the fine readers of FXcuisine.com. Balikçi Sebahattin had turned into a tourist trap, the fisherman who had agreed to take me on his boat from dusk till dawn did not get approval from the port police who were bait fishing afghan refugees, and the olive oil factory hadn't started pressing any oil. But on my last night, I made this most memorable meal thanks to Utkun. See for yourself:

I was staying in a hotel on the Bosphorus, on Istanbul's European side. Utkun had recommended me two posh kebab houses - Develi and Sahan, both quite far away and very Westernized-looking. But this really got me excited:

On September 2nd, I jumped into the ferry at Beşiktaş, and crossed from Europe to Asia as the sun was setting. You really need to take a ferry in Istanbul once in your life. The Bosphorus looks like a river, but in fact it's a giant highway. You see most of Russia's and Ukraine's foreign trade passing by on giant tankers and container ships. The waters are patrolled by loads of police and military boats. And then the pleasure vessels. Leander's tower, an ancient lighthouse on an island facing the historical district of Sultah Ahmet. You can look all day long. If you bring binoculars, you get to see the ornated facades of the many 19th century Ottoman-style mansions on the river front. Just amazing.

After 20 minutes, my ferry arrives at Kadiköy.

How will I recognize you?, I had asked before the meeting. Is that you in the Knoedel article?, Utkun said. It is. Then I'll recognize you when you come out of the ferry - don't worry. As soon as I exit the ferry, I see this boy-next-door student type with a big smile. You must be Francois, he says. I managed to take Utkun's picture in the magic light of Istanbul's glorious sunset and at 18h15 we all climb in his limousine for a drive down in the guts of Istanbul's Asian part.

In the car Utkun tells me how he reads FXcuisine.com regularly but did not manage to try many dishes. I study econometrics in Bursa, a town 2 hours from Istanbul, and the kitchen is just too small. But I printed some of your recipes and showed them to my mother. She did the Beef Bourguignon, but you know how Turkish mothers are, they always know better than the recipe. So she removed the bacon and put much less wine. In the end it was very tasty but probably quite different from the original!, explained Utkun. But she wouldn't cook the 300-minute egg - a waste of energy she said, he continued while driving through Istanbul's heavy traffic.

After half an hour, Utkun stops the car in a genteel residential neighborhood and his father Metin Birsen and his good friend Irfan Sidar climb in. Irfan is the one who knows the owner of the kebab house. They look quite excited with the whole idea of the foreign gourmet visiting their favorite kebab joint. Both are professionals, working in banking and insurance, but they speak in Turkish. Utkun translates me into English and back.

It is your good luck that you could come to Istanbul on the first day of Ramazan, Utkun explains. Indeed, when I had entered Ciçek Pasaji, the lovely 19th century restaurant arcade in Galatasaray, earlier that day, every restaurant inside was empty. I nearly couldn't get out as all the restaurant owners tried to get me to sit down. Although not a legal obligation, Ramadan is taken seriously by most people in Istanbul. It's a test of one's character, explains Utkun. You want to see if you are able to resist the calls of your body to eat and drink, smoke or have sex. It goes on for a month. I'm not surprised you didn't see anybody at Ciçek Pasaji, the specialty there is fish and Turks only eat it with raki, the anise alcohol. You don't drink raki on Ramazan, even at night.

Utkun shows me a queue of people lining up for bread. like in Soviet Russia, he jokes. The baker makes a special bread for Ramazan (Ramazan pidesi).

At 19h00, we arrive at Eda, their favorite neighborhood kebab house. Let's see what's cooking.

Preparing the meal at Eda Kebab

As we arrive, we go to the back of the restaurant near the wood-fired bread oven. This almost looks like a bakery - they sift the flour and work the dough all by hand.

Soner Renginoglu and his colleague are making ramazin pidesi from a dough made from flour, bicarbonate of soda, yeast, olive oil and sugar.

In their expert hands, the breads and flattened and stretched and scored until they fly into the oven. Just before baking the flatbreads are glazed with an egg and yogurt mixture, then sprinkle with sesame seeds and baked.

A few minutes in the wood-fired inferno, and the flatbreads are removed from the oven, now gloriously fragrant and crispy and brown all over. I can't wait for the sun to set so we can have taste!

Using the same dough, Soner now prepares lahmacun by spreading ground lamb mixed with pine nuts, tomatoes, cinammon, onion and garlic on top of a flatbread. I really hate it when people call this ĞTurkish Pizzağ, says Utkun.

The lahmacun is baked for a couple minutes only.

THE KEBAP PIT
We now move to the other side of the restaurant, where the open kebab pit is now in full action. The kebabs are grilled on a hot charcoal fire. This is the realm of M. Melih and Mehmet Ali. The sun has not set yet but they are already preparing to-go-boxes for people to bring back home. First the freshly-baked bread is sliced and is spread on the bottom of each box.

Mehmet mixes ground lamb meat with thyme, pepper and salt, then shape their kebabs on the long, flat skewers used in Turkey. The idea is to grill the meat on a very high temperature on smokey hot charcoals. You couldn't do this with a grate as the meat would stick. Turks are more clever, they use very long skewers made to rest on both sides of the grill much as the bars of a grate does in our Western grills. (See lead picture). This lets the meat hang from the flat skwers and fully enjoy the scorching heat radiated by the charcoal. It cooks fast, with a brown crispy crust with a smokey taste outside. Really nothing like the döner kebab crap we see in the West, where the meat is dry and tastes of nothing but cheap grease.

Everything goes fast, with huge whiffs of smoke sucked up by a giant copper chimney. A glass window lets the patrons enjoy the show without smoking them out.

Plump, tasty tomatoes are grilled along hot green chili peppers, right above the hot coals, just long enough to soften them up.

Can you imagine living in a city where you can order this Ğto goğ?

Click below to read the second part of this article - the meal.

During Ramadan, muslims start to eat only when the sun sets. At 19h27 we sit down and wait a few minutes for the ezan, the moment when the sun has disappeared and you can start to eat.

The first item to arrive on the table was a plate of fresh herbs - mint, parsley and rucola. Metin will show us how to eat them in a little while.

A fresh salad looking much like North African chermoullah arrived. I'm not keen on fresh tomatoes and didn't try it, but it certainly contains pomegranate seeds, cucucumber dices, freshly ground walnuts, green onions, fresh tomatoes, mint and olive oil.

Soup - some of us get a light lentils soup but I make the right choice and go for yuvarlama, a meat, chickpeas, mint, olive oil and yogurt soup (recipe). This amazing soup is typical of Anatolia, a mountainous and rural area of Turkey where all the restaurant staff and its owner come from. The owner Hayrettin Sürmeli is away, his daughter Eda, after which he named the restaurant, marries in Gaziantep, his hometown. They only make it once a year, for the first day of Ramadan apparently. It has a wonderfully tart flavor and white color, both on account of the yoghurt. The lentils soup tastes bland in comparison.

Alcohol is widely consumed by Muslims in Turkey, but not during Ramadan. My Turkish friends drink what Utkun translates as carrot juice with pepper. I try it and nearly puke - this things is like a purgative medicine and then some. So bitter. It looks like the delicious sour cherry juice seen everywhere in Turkey, but I won't acquire its taste tonight. Utkun's father also drank the popular savory liquid yogurt. I got myself a Coca Cola Zero from a huge tray.

Irfan makes good-humored remarks while we discuss the war with Georgia. Is this a danger or an opportunity for Turkey?, I ask Both, they answer gravely.

Shortly after 20h00 this platter of kebab arrive, with the bread on top and the vegetables on the side. All use forks and knives to serve from the platter but I can't help grabbing a piece of bread with my bare hands under Metin's scrutinizing glaze.

Metin undertakes to demonstrate me how to eat a kebab like a Turkish gentleman, while the rest of the table cheers him on.

You take a piece of flat breads (much flatter than the ones we saw being prepared a moment before). Place a few pieces of grilled lamb, one hot pepper, an onion and a roasted tomato.

Garnish with a twig of parsley.

Roll like a cigar...

... and enjoy!

I follow suit and for half an hour we gorge ourselves on these luscious kebabs mixing the smokey, spicy but tender meat with the juicy roasted vegetables. For a moment I thought I was in heaven.

As more food arrives, my face turns pale. How many people have choked to death on bad versions of these içli köfte? In my country you get the impression that they are made a month before you eat them. I was suspicious at first, but ended up eating three of them. Just amazing. Ground lamb meat is mixed with spices and herbs and ground walnuts. Then each ball is wrapped in crunchy cooked bulgur (steamed wheat grains) and deep-fried. The crust is light and crunchy, and the inside wet. These were better than most Arancini I've ever eaten.

The lahmacun topped with melted cheese - a pure delight.

Suddendly the chef rushes to our table and grabs me. It is half past eight and the restaurant is chock-full. He wants you to see how they make the house specialty, explains Utkun. Inci Kebap or 'Pearl Kebab' is made from a ground lamb kebab grilled on hot coals, just like the kebabs we just ate.

The grilled kebab is sprinkled with cheese and wrapped in a thin uncooked flat bread.

They brush the roll with oil and place it in the wood-fired bread oven until crispy.

The rolls are cut in thick slices, then garnished with eggplant caviar, tomato sauce, melted cheese, freshly pounded pistachios and a few roasted hot green chili peppers.

If you saw this in a regular kebab joint in London or Zurich, you might hardly give it any notice. But here in this neighborhood kebap restaurant in Istanbul, where everything is cooked fresh, including the bread, the pearl kebab works out to be a gem. The bread is slightly crispy, with a decadent layer of wet roated tomatoes and eggplants and cheese, and the meat inside will make any Western kebab look like Cornish pasties. Extraordinary!

While we reminisce our delicious meal, ...

Soner arrives with the most delicious, homebaked baklava (bottom) and sweet cheese pudding künefe (top right).

You see baclava in every döner kebab joint but they are rarely as good as this - soaked in sugar syrup and made with freshly ground pistachios.

The chef is concerned about what we think of his künefe. We like it. He explains that he makes it with a layer of angel hair pasta at the bottom, then grape molasses, pistachios, sugar and unsalted cheese. This is no cottage cheese but real seasoned cheese that contains no salt. Utkun mentioned a cheesy dessert, which I pointed out would not work out to be an attractive name in English. I meant a dessert made from cheese, he replied good humoredly. The pudding is then baked in the oven for 10 minutes and turned upside down and covered with syrup.

Do you eat like this every Ramadan night?, I ask. If you do, I'm willing to convert to Islam tonight. All laugh and protest that this is an exceptional meal. The gentleman standing explains that he has not drunk a single glass of water nor eaten anything for the whole day. It's now past nine at night and he is off to the Mosque for prayer before he has his first meal of the day.

Half past nine. They ask me what I'll have for drinks after the dessert. Coffee, very sweet., I answer. I smile while Utkun first says kahve, then the waiter asks him How sweet?, like they always do. They laugh and Lokman, who came to sit with us, tells me: Francois, we call those who drink sweet coffee: Ğstudentsğ. Grown-ups don't need any sugar.

The coffees and teas arrive. I try to take a picture of the cup, but the head chef (in blue) adds a glass of water next to the cup. He explains that You drink the water before the coffee to cleanse your mouth of the meal's taste so you fully enjoy the coffee. I dutifully drink some mineral water before the coffee, the move the cup away for the picture.

I like my coffee sweet. Turkish coffee is served with the coffee powder at the bottom of the cup. The more you drink, the riskier it becomes to fill your mouth with coffee lees. And you can't add the sugar yourself as this would mean unsettling the lees at the bottom with a spoon.

While we prudently sip our Turkish coffee, Utkun looks up a word in his dictionary. How thoughtful! Utkun speaks and writes great English, but he wanted to be sure to be able to translate accurately special spices or herbs' names for me. Please send me more readers like Utkun!

When I go in the back to pay discreetly for the whole meal, as I had planned, the chef comes back to the table with an angry face. He starts speaking in Turkish to my hosts who all burst in laughter. Utkun translates. The chef said you wanted to pay for the meal? No way. You were kind enough to come and visit us, we pay. They would not have it any other way. Metin pulls out a credit card and quietly pays while Utkun tells me I think if we stay any longer they'll ask us to clean the dishes. The staff now wants to go the Mosque so that they can have dinner. As we leave, Metin asks if I get paid to make FXcuisine.com. I sure don't, but from time to time I get a free meal is my answer. They all laugh and disappear into the night while Utkun drives me back to the ferry.

Eda Ocakbaşi (Kebab House ĞEdağ)
Kaya Sultan Sk. No:73 (corner of Kaya Sultan Sk. with çevre yolu streets)
34742 Kozyataği - Kadıköy
Istanbul
Phone: +90 (0) 216 463 34 23