It was 10 a.m. on a bright, crisp Monday morning as we blasted down a miraculously traffic-free stretch of Istanbul’s E-5 highway. We were en route to Bağcılar, a jam-packed outer district home to three quarters of a million people. Awaiting us was an ambitious breakfast of büryan kebabı, delectable lamb meat roasted to perfection in a belowground coal-fired oak tandoor oven before emerging in all of its glory, ready to be sliced and devoured quickly with fresh flatbread. Clearing a vast swath of the notoriously traffic-strangled city in less than 20 minutes, the first meal of the day was just around the corner and we already had the feeling, mere hours in, that this was going to be a good week.

Everyone seems to feel at ease in Emice’nin Yeri. It’s the kind of place where workers come after their shifts, families and couples dine, single men drink their tea and watch football matches on the TV, and women too are comfortable eating alone. It’s not just a welcoming place – Emice’nin Yeri also happens to be one of the best Black Sea restaurants around. The emice part of the name comes from the Laz language and means “uncle,” or amca in Turkish, so can be translated to “Uncle’s Place,” a fitting moniker for the restaurant does have a certain avuncular charm.

It’s the first time we’ve seen this small truck while on our Born on the Bosphorus walk in Kuzguncuk. It was selling apples and persimmons – the bounty of autumn – in front of one of our favorite grocers in the neighborhood.

On a late spring afternoon I sat at the only table at Tadal, an Armenian deli in Kurtuluş. Behind me were shelves lined with imported liquors: French, Greek and Georgian wines, Russian vodkas, an admirable range of Scotch whiskies. Opposite, a refrigerated case groaned with meze (lakerda and taramasalata, rice-filled sweet red pepper dolma and mercimek koftesi, anchovies in olive oil), many varieties of olives and a range of cured meats that included not only the ubiquitous çemen-coated beef pastırma but also pork-based specimens like mortadella and salami. Cheeses were arranged next to tubs of pickles and clay dishes of buffalo-milk yogurt.

Photographer David Hagerman is one half of the duo behind the new cookbook Istanbul & Beyond: Exploring the Diverse Cuisines of Turkey, which will be published by Rux Martin Books/Houghton Mifflin Harcourt (USA) on October 10. Together with Robyn Eckhardt, his journalist wife and the author of Istanbul & Beyond, he has crisscrossed Turkey countless times in order to document farm-to-table food culture and discover the country’s best dishes. The resulting book is a stunning culinary journey through Turkey, one told as much through the recipes collected as through Hagerman’s arresting photos. We spoke with David about his approach to shooting the images for the book, culinary culture in Turkey and some of his favorite spots in the country.

Turkey’s charming southern city of Antakya lies equidistant to the Mediterranean coast and the Syrian border, in the province of Hatay. The area is famed for its unique, spice-laden cuisine, though it is perhaps overshadowed by that of its neighbors to the east and west: Adana and Gaziantep, respectively. The former is practically synonymous with kebab while the latter is famous for, well, everything, and is often touted as Turkey’s undisputed food capital. But a recent two-day trip to Antakya made it imminently clear that its cuisine deserves just as much praise as Adana’s glorious grilled skewers and Gaziantep’s divine baklava. The integrity and autonomy of its rich cuisine comes as no surprise to anyone acquainted with this special city.

If Istanbul had a city museum, in the 20th-century exhibition we’d expect to walk into a life-sized recreation of Kenan Usta Ocakbaşı, a seminal grill joint in the Beyoğlu district. As visitors descended a few steps into the exhibition, sensors would trigger the harsh light of fluorescent bulbs overhead, illuminating a room covered in photographs of husky men with mustaches posing with a stout man in an apron, grill master Kenan Usta. The somber, groaning warble of the great Arabesque singer Müslüm Gürses would cue up in the visitors’ rented headsets and ducts inside the replica grill would belch out smoke scented authentically by grilled meat.

The assumption that falafel is a Turkish staple is a misunderstanding of global proportions. Perhaps this mix-up is due to its appearance on the menu of what seems like every Turkish restaurant outside of the country. Yet for years falafel has been largely absent from Turkey. We have often pondered why this was the case: The chickpea is a fundamental ingredient in Turkish cooking, after all. And hummus has made its way from the southern province of Hatay – which shares a border and culinary traditions with Syria – to the meyhanes of Istanbul and Izmir. But for whatever reason, falafel never made the jump; it used to be very difficult to find proper falafel in Turkey, although it remained popular over the border in Syria.

The tiny Öz Develi Etli Pide Salonu is nestled in a narrow backstreet in Istanbul’s Tarlabaşı neighborhood, a place that is much more synonymous with crime, gentrification and crass urban development (in that order) than it is with regional culinary specialties. But Öz Develi’s speciality, the cıvıklı pide, is so enticing that it attracts diners from all over the city to this unfairly maligned neighborhood, which is neither without its problems nor lacking in treasures. The master behind the cıvıklı is Hacı Ahmet Beşparmark, who hails from the district of Develi, south of Mount Erciyes in the Central Anatolian province of Kayseri.

From Western China all the way to Istanbul, Turkic people roll out dough, fold it into small pouches, boil it and call it mantı. When it comes to dumplings, Turkish tradition dictates that the tortellini-like mantı be no larger than peanut-sized. With its unusually large (and sometimes fried) dumplings, Bodrum Mantı & Café has taken traditional Turkish mantı to soaring new heights, of which we strongly approve.

First-time visitors to Astek probably step in for the same reason most people convene at a reputable Istanbul meyhane: Good conversation in a cozy setting over a few cold glasses of rakı, together with fresh melon and white cheese, and perhaps a hot appetizer or two once the anise-based spirit has succeeded in seriously stimulating the appetite. And while one is unlikely to be displeased with any of Astek’s fine offerings, the head waiter and manager Mehmet Akkök is the reason why regulars return. Mehmet Bey brings to the table an exuberance and keen sense of professionalism that comes with years of service in the sector he loves.

Istanbul's Vefa neighborhood is home to a rich collection of historic treasures. Framed by the vast and beautiful 4th-century Valens Aqueducts, Vefa is in the heart of the old city but retains a sense of locality and rusty charm perhaps lost in the more touristy neighborhoods nearby. Among its institutions is Vefa Bozacısı, which has sold boza – a thick, fermented millet-based drink popular in the winter – since 1876. Immediately across the street is an establishment that has only been around for a few months but also specializes in another beloved local beverage, gazoz. Opened last year by Istanbul University economics student Mahmut Saklı, Sevda Gazozcusu is likely the only shop in Turkey that exclusively sells the drink.

Think of Ramadan, which just began in many parts of the world, as a kind of monthlong biathlon that consists of an all-day race to beat back the hunger and thirst of fasting, followed by an all-night marathon of eating and drinking in order to fortify the body for the next day’s fast. In recent years in Turkey, iftar, the traditional break fast meal that used to mostly consist of some dates and a freshly baked round of Ramadan pide, has started to become an increasingly trendy affair, with ministers, businessmen and regular people trying to make an impression by hosting ever more lavish meals.

Pide is an oven-baked, boat-shaped favorite laden with cheese and often a variety of meats and vegetables, and we sample some of Istanbul's best on our Bazaar walk.

The esnaf lokantası is Turkey's gift to the working man and woman. While in many parts of the world, lunch during the work week means eating an uninspiring sandwich or salad inside a lonely cubicle at the office, workers in Turkey have the esnaf lokantası ("tradesman's restaurant" in Turkish). Outfitted with a steam table that usually holds dozens of ready-made and utterly homey dishes, it is much more than simply a canteen. In reality, it is the place that keeps a hungry nation going. We've rounded up six of our favorite esnaf lokantaları in Istanbul.