 | |
 |
 |
Turkish Delight1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | Itinerary | Home
It was just past seven and we were late. We’d made pretty good time sprinting, but the throngs on Nevizade Street slowed us down. Moonira, slimmer and more aggressive than I, was better at weaving through the crowds. I fell behind, stuck behind a man carrying a tray of ice-chilled almonds. Then I nearly tripped over one of the tiny tables that make up the dozen or so beer bars along the street. A trio of attractive Istanbullus looked up at me from their pints of Efes lager and french fries globbed with mayonnaise. I mumbled an apology and hurried on. Moonira and I had been in Turkey for nearly six weeks and had shown less haste running to catch buses and trains. Tonight’s appointment, though, was more important. We had a dinner reservation at a streetside table at a meyhane, one of Istanbul’s traditional tavern restaurants. The previous week, without a reservation, we were banished to a second-floor table near the stairwell – convenient for the bathrooms but far from the raucous street party outside. This night, we would be right in the middle of it – if we got there in time. Istanbul is enjoying a restaurant boom these days. Sushi bars compete with South Asian fusion eateries and bohemian vegetarian restaurants. Chefs from around the world command kitchens in posh rooftop restaurants where diners indulge in non-Turkish delights like saffron-marinated turbot and wasabi tortellini. Istanbul’s young, rich and beautiful clientele don’t flinch at spending $25 for a mojito if it means sharing the view with local pop stars and visiting Formula 1 drivers. In spite of all this swanky newness, Turks have not forsaken their culinary traditions. Hence the weekend commotion on Nevizade Street, where they fight for table space at the meyhanes. One of the best is Boncuk, where Moonira was already sitting, triumphant, by the time I caught up. I collapsed into my chair, breathless and sweaty, and glanced at our fellow diners pressed in tight around us. They held forks in one hand and ciga-rettes in the other, dragging lungfuls of smoke between bites of dinner. The Bosphorus breezes offered some relief. |
