Istanbul_ The Collected Traveler_ An Inspired Companion Guide - Barrie Kerper [160]
Getting there by the hulking public ferry is part of the thrill. Unceremoniously, I elbow my way to the open upper deck and accept a glass of çay (tea) from a vendor. For the next twenty minutes I’m sailing to Byzantium. As the boat casts off, Süleymaniye’s cascading domes rise behind and the conical-capped Galata Tower swings into view on the Beyoğlu side. Soon the Topkapı Palace assembles itself and the profile of the Blue Mosque joins in as the twilight sky turns a dazzling orange behind it. We sail to the sounds of seagulls squawking and the muezzins’ echoing calls to prayer. It’s the most magical public-transport experience you can have for less than a buck, plus thirty cents for the tea.
After landing, I cross the street and veer into a buoyant mercantile hub, where the aroma of roasting coffee mingles with that of briny grape leaves. Çiya, which sits on a market street, is actually a mini empire: two kebab places and the cafeteria-style Çiya Sofrasi, where diners help themselves to cold snacks, then order hot specials dished out from bubbling pots. The mischievous fortyish owner, Musa Dagdeviren, is a chef as well as publisher of a Turkish food and culture magazine. He serves up regional specialties such as tiny meatballs in sour-cherry sauce; a lemony salad of mastic leaves; and dried eggplant dolmas with a rice filling sweet and sour from pomegranate molasses. At the larger of Çiya’s two kebab places—be sure to book on the rooftop terrace—the braziers turn out beautifully marbled cylinders of minced lamb grilled with loquat, quince, or spring onions. I like to end with the tahinli ekmek, a paper-thin disk of dough flash-baked with tahini and sugar. I’m amazed this brilliant dessert pizza idea has never occurred to Wolfgang Puck.
ON THE BANKS OF THE BOSPORUS
Come warm weather, locals flock to the Bosporus with the determination of migrating birds. This narrow, nineteen-mile-long strait, stretching from the Sea of Marmara to the Black Sea and separating Europe from Asia, just might be the world’s most adored and fully utilized body of water. Locals wax rhapsodic about its hilly green shores and vigorous breezes. They love the genteel villages lined with wooden waterfront mansions called yalılar, some of them freshly painted, others in a state of romantic decay. And they’ll invariably recommend that you spend a languorous weekend morning at one of the outdoor cafés near the Rumeli Hisarı Fortress, erected in 1452 by Mehmet the Conqueror as he plotted the siege of Constantinople. If you’re coming from Sultanahmet, it’s a beautiful half-hour taxi ride along the Bosporus.
I usually gravitate to Kale Çay Bahçesi, which serves an exemplary Turkish breakfast of feta, olives, crunchy cucumbers, slender green peppers, simit, and jam. Over endless glasses of tea, I take in the Bosporus promenade, where suntanned men fish, couples nuzzle, chic twenty-somethings in dashing sunglasses and designer headscarves loll about alongside tattooed beauties with bare midriffs. Ignoring warnings about treacherous currents and boat traffic, small boys leap into the steely waters. Giant freighters glide up and down. It’s easy to sit and stare forever.
Another ritual here is eating fish at the waterside restaurants. For outsiders, it’s hard to understand why locals maintain such fierce loyalty to a particular fish house, say, Kiyi or Iskele. The menus are fairly identical. Small dishes, or meze, such as smoky eggplant spread, feta with melon, and buttery lakerda (cured bonito), give way to fried calamari and warm eggplant with yogurt. It’s all washed down with rakı, the anise-scented Turkish spirit. Then pick your catch—mackerel, sea bass, bluefish—fried or grilled.
Busy by day, the road along the strait is bumper-to-bumper