around beyoğlu yesterday

from carrot cake to kokoreç

I found a new little café in Cihangir to hang out in, but as I was off in dreamland, I didn't get the name. Right down the street from Hanımeli on Ağahamam Caddesi, I treated myself to a scrumptious lemony carrot walnut cake and a perfect Americano. I often feel like I have no time to read anymore, and have discovered that the time magically appears when I find myself in a cosy café with a book. This will have to be my new haunt.

I'm going to take this post in a new direction. Now, I pride myself on trying just about anything when it comes to food. I haven't come across anything I don't like— except cantaloupe and kidneys. I have been known to enjoy a lengua taco on occasion— that's a beef tongue taco, or some tripe soup, and I'm mad for sea urchins and monkfish liver. For some reason for the past year I've been resisting the urge to try a very popular and beloved Turkish dish, kokoreç.


What exactly is kokoreç? Pronounced "ko-ko-retch," it certainly doesn't sound very appealing— and the ingredients don't offer much to get uh, excited about either. Lamb kidneys, lungs, hearts, sweetbreads and intestines are all wrapped up in seasoned offal into a long tubular shape, and grilled on a spit. Sweetbreads are deceptive in name— there's nothing sweet or bready about the thymus and pancreas, and offal sounds well, awful— it's the entrails and leftover bits of an animal. So why would I want to eat this? Because it looks so good when the sandwich guy chops it all up with peppers and oregano on a griddle, and every Turk I have asked about it gets this far-off Homer Simpson-y look of craving in their eyes and drools, "Oooooooh... kokoreç!"

I had no idea when I woke up this morning, that today would be the day. Tia and Gyl were back in town, and they, braver than I, had already tried it and joined the kokoreç appreciation club. Feeling a bit silly for having lived here for over a year and never tasted it, I figured it was about time. We found a little stand boasting the dish that the EU wanted to ban out of fear of mad cow disease, and ordered three sandwiches.


So what was it like? A little chewy in parts, spicy, soft and flavourful— pretty good. There were definitely some bites that tasted more like organ meat than others, and there was the occasional kidney-flavour that I wasn't too keen on, but overall, not bad. I would have it again, and I suspect it goes nicely with beer or ayran, but I have to say it was the carrot cake that I'll remember fondly.

a delicious discovery

Cihangir is a veritable maze of teeny-tiny winding streets, with treasures hidden around every corner. I just so happened to be walking down a street I've walked dozens of times, and noticed this charming little restaurant for the very first time, Hanımeli.


Hanımeli, which I just learned means honeysuckle, is so small that I bet you could only fit about twenty people inside, if you were squeezed tightly. You feel like you've been invited into someone's home, and that you're about to sit down to a warm and delicious home-cooked meal. The dining room is cosy, separated from the kitchen (which looks like my mum's kitchen) by a glass case of cold dishes, warm dishes placed tantalisingly on top. Ooh and the smell that greets you is incredible— dill, hot tomatoes and sweet onions.

I discovered Hanımeli while walking around with Javier the other day, and decided to bring two of my newest friends, Gyl and Tia to try it out. The life of a travelling nomad is a marvellous one— you never know where you'll end up and who you are going to meet. While in Budapest, I had the pleasure of meeting two fabulous travelling ladies, Molly and Nancy, and last week I got an email from Molly's friend Gyl, saying that she and Tia were coming to Istanbul and wanted to meet up. This is what I love most about my life— meeting new people, hearing new stories, discovery. After showing off my favourite Cihangir çaybahçesi, Gyl, Tia and I walked around the corner for some amazing stuffed zucchini, köfte and soup.


Seriously, look at that. Not only did my stomach love me, but the fact that each plate is around five lira, makes my artist's wallet happy too— and the owners/cooks of the restaurant are so sweet, the whole experience left me feeling warm.

Hanımeli Ev Yemekleri
Ağahamam Caddesi No.6A Firuzağa / Cihangir / İSTANBUL
0 212 245 98 78

ada çay

It was Javier's last night in Istanbul, and I wanted to take him to one of my favourite drawing spots— the tea garden in Cihangir. We sipped on fragrant sage tea as we picked out our subjects from the colourful crowd. I find that ada çay lends itself well to long periods of sketching, as it's caffeine-free— I can't tell you how many times I've gotten ridiculously wired from glass after glass of çay, my hands drawing trembling lines. Turkish tea is powerful stuff— beware.

take a picture, it'll last longer

In a culture where staring is not only accepted, but seems to be as natural as breathing, the last thing you want to do is something that will draw attention to yourself. I will now be known at the Cihangir çaybahçe as the yabancı drawing girl who fell off her chair onto her ass. Imagine the horror I felt, as I discovered the back right leg of my chair was standing on nothing but air. I felt that odd slow-motion sensation you get when you know something bad is about to happen, and as I tried desperately to use every muscle in my body to balance myself, I realised gravity was just going to have its way with me.

Down I crashed— down three steps onto my backside— legs in the air, chair somehow beneath them. As I am lying on the pavement, I decide to take my time getting up. If I am going to have an audience, let's not give them the expected posture of humiliation. No hanging of the head, no red cheeks, no nervous laugh. I sit up, right the chair, slowly rise to my feet and casually dust myself off, as if it's a perfectly ordinary thing to fall off a chair. Shoulders back and head high, I fluff my hair, straighten my shirt, sit down and order a tea. I feel dozens of eyes on me, hear whispering I cannot understand, and give them absolutely nothing. Eventually, everyone goes back to their previous conversations and staring— at someone else.

sketchy girl

danger! art! thai!

There's nothing like a little tear gas with your pad-thai. I had just arrived in Cihangir with some friends after a massive riot roared through the streets of Taksim. ATMs were smashed, bank windows shot up and shattered, Molotov cocktails hurled— all in protest of the meeting between the World Bank and International Monetary Fund in our fair city.

Glass crunched under our feet as we made our way to the restaurant we planned to have dinner at, and we soon joined our fellow pedestrians in blinking, sneezing and coughing. I've never had the pleasure of being teargassed or of being in the presence of tear gas— it's awful stuff. It seems to linger in the air for quite a long time; we hadn't witnessed any of the gassing or violence, but our throats still burned.

Kahvedan is a delightful street-side restaurant with the best pad-thai I have found in Istanbul— so far. Everything tasted so fresh and peanuty, with heavenly notes of cilantro and a hell of a kick of chili. The next time I go, I'll take some pictures to accompany a sketch or two. The guy drawn above was such an interesting character, I whipped out my pen and sketchbook immediately upon seeing him— he was also enjoying some of the pad-thai.

today's portraits

le saturday

//Cezayir sokaği/

//5 Kat/Cihangir/
Restaurant/bar with the tastiest caipirinhas I've had in Istanbul so far. You feel like you're about to walk into someone's apartment until you get off the elevator on the fifth floor and find yourself on this lovely rooftop hangout. The view is just spectacular.

tired feet

I was in a town today that I am not familiar with and decided to hop on a bus that was going to Mecediyeköy— not knowing where exactly Mecediyeköy is. I figured it would put me in the general direction of downtown Istanbul. I rode the bus to the end of the line and got off without recognising where I was at all. The bus shelters read "Mecediyeköy" so I thought, well at least I'm in the right place! I figured if I followed the crowd of people walking from the bus stop, I'd end up at a central area at some point. I had an iPod full of music, a gorgeous sunny day— there was no better time to get lost.

When the road I was on ran into Büyükdere Caddesi, the road where I saw the Atatürk Muzesi the other day, I was excited. I followed Büyükdere Caddesi intending to visiting the museum, but when I tried to take a picture of some people on the street, my camera battery died. I had planned on taking lots of photos inside the museum when I visited it, so I decided instead to keep walking and see where I'd end up. The weather really was wonderful.

I walked past Cevahir, Europe's largest mall— apparently there's a small rollercoaster inside along with the largest clock in the world. I am seldom in the mood for a mall, so I continued all the way down to a street called Rumeli Caddesi, which is a great place to visit for deals on clothes. I hopped on the metro at a station called Osmanbey and went to Taksim to try and find an area called Cihangir, that I hear is something to be seen.

Cihangir is indeed lovely— charming sidewalk cafés abound with one of the most beautiful views in the city, as Cihangir is on one of Istanbul's highest hills. It is considered a Bohemian and intellectual neighbourhood, compared to New York's East Village by some. I can't wait to go back and sit in one of those cafés and draw.

Continuing down the same street, I suddenly saw Topkapi in the distance and knew where I was. I walked down to the water and ended up right by Istanbul Modern, Istanbul's modern art museum, which houses a fantastic collection of Turkish contemporary artwork. There's a lovely mosque in front of the museum, Nusretiye Camii, that I decided to sketch. As I sat down on a short wall on the side of the road, a kind-faced old man started speaking to me and I actually understood him! Of course I didn't know what to say back except "hello" and "ok"— merhaba and tamam. He had been walking for a while and was tired, seeing me sitting on the side of the road made him want to sit down for a rest. We sat together for a while, I sketched and he thumbed his black and white worry beads. Then he got up and wished me a happy day.

Kabataş is one of the many ferry hubs in Istanbul. I absolutely love ferry rides— if I could take a ferry boat everywhere, I would. Conveniently, ferry boat is feribot in Turkish, so I was able to ask the İskele (port or quay) ticket man if there was a boat headed towards my town. Not only was there a boat headed there, there was one leaving in five minutes. A Bosphorus boat trip is one of the most magnificent ways to see the Istanbul. As the sun was colouring the sky orange, we passed by Dolmabahçe— which looks even more massive from the water— cruised by Rumeli Hisarı fortress and enormous cargo ships coming from the Black Sea. This is the only way see all the old wooden coastal houses that you can't see from the road. If you are ever in Istanbul, a boat tour is a must. It was a terrific way to end the day.

Please click on the images to see them larger.