It's just shy of 4 p.m. on a gray Sunday afternoon in Istanbul, and there is a line out the door at Bayramoğlu, considered by many to be the best döner restaurant in Turkey. A sign on the corner of the building proudly proclaims the establishment to be the “pioneer of döner” and in the middle of the roof there is a human-sized model of a rotating döner, just in case it wasn't clear what the star of the show is around here. Inside are two huge dining rooms, hundreds of guests, and dozens of employees, who are running a tight ship across a sea of controlled chaos. There is nothing subtle about Bayramoğlu. This place is a juggernaut, spread across 1,000 square meters with four hulking döners cooking with the flames of high-quality oak charcoal, and two tandoori ovens (also wood-burning) where slices of fresh tandır ekmeği flatbread are cooked in seconds. When a guest leaves, their table is swiftly cleaned, and the next diner in line is quickly escorted in and their order taken: a single portion, one and a half, or a double?

Call ahead by a couple days and Serdil will arrange a deep dive on Diyarbakır dishes you can't experience anywhere else, not in the city, not in the region, not anywhere else in the country. On our last visit in September, he started the meal with a local caprese made from lavaş peyniri (a flat, mild sheep's milk cheese), reyhan (purple basil, which grows all over the countryside), and tırnak ekmek (handmade bread from a local baker, first popularized in nearby Gaziantep). He presents his dish, and those after, with a story of how it came to be and where the ingredients are from. More bread was served with a bright green salt Serdil had made from a rare Kurdish herb he called "zuzak," explaining just how difficult it has become to track down. It was tangy and slightly sweet, and no one from either of our dining groups (eight in total, we were at capacity), had ever heard of it before.

Diners in Istanbul are spoiled with options for fresh seafood. But most venues are mere caricatures of places like İsmet Baba, where traditions have been kept sacred for more than 50 years. While many other such restaurants are kitschy, İsmet is gritty and authentic. Located in Kuzguncuk, a charming neighborhood on the Asian side of the Bosphorus, it may not be the best restaurant in the city, but it’s got something most of the others have lost: old-school Istanbul charm and character.