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?

Kebapçı Osman Usta 1976 is located in the crowded neighborhood of Şirinevler, a corner of Istanbul that has fascinated us for years. Separated from the idyllic upper-middle class, tree-lined suburb of Ataköy by Istanbul's main highway but linked with a pedestrian footbridge built above it, Şirinevler is the polar opposite of its southern neighbor: dense, working class, chaotic, and lacking in green space. Nevertheless, it is a lively, bustling center of interactions and transactions, loaded with cheap fast food restaurants, bookstores, clothing shops and dodgy nightclubs. Şirinevler is also known for a cluster of grillhouses where the skewer slingers all hail from the district of Suruç in the province of Urfa, one of Turkey's kebab capitals.

Situated on a pleasant corner in the heart of Kurtuluş is an unlikely yet warmly welcomed addition to this beloved neighborhood's excellent food scene: Horo Burger, which only features Sloppy Joes on its menu. While the name of this American classic conjures pleasant memories of family dinner for some and horrifying flashbacks from the school cafeteria for others, Horo's take on the Sloppy Joe is faithful yet elevated, just as put-together as it is messy.

Behind Istanbul's hulking Çağlayan courthouse in the center of town near the main highway, there is a series of mixed industrial-residential neighborhoods with a handful of restaurants, none of which are particularly noteworthy. That was until Kaburgacı Koray recently opened up shop on the corner of a backstreet in the area, quickly winning over not just the lawyers and other courthouse employees who now have a lunch spot to die for, but also people from all over town, who, like us, quickly realized that Kaburgacı Koray is perhaps the best kebapçı in Istanbul.

Souvlaki might just be Greece’s most popular food. Meat cooked on a stick, wrapped in a pita, dressed with sliced tomato and onion and a dollop of tzatziki, it can be eaten on the run – and it’s often the first thing visitors run to eat as soon as they arrive in this country. It’s an enduring favorite for Greeks, too. Not only is it delicious, but the standard kebab* is also inexpensive, costing around just 3 to 4 euros. The challenge, then, is to find kebabs and gyros that are more imaginative, still juicy and delicious, with a wider range of fillings and toppings, perhaps even vegetarian and vegan options – and which are still moderately priced.

Ramadan fasters in Istanbul may not love the endless daylight hours in summer nor the susuzluk (no water), but when the reward is a leisurely iftar under the trees on Kadınlar Pazarı, the pedestrianized market known as Little Siirt (named after the southeastern Turkish city where many of the local shop and restaurant owners hail from), it must surely seem worth it. A February iftar would not be quite the same, at least not in Turkey. As we walked through the twilight to Siirt Şeref Büryan Kebap Salonu at the end of the square last Saturday, hundreds of fasters waited in front of cling-filmed plates of iceberg lettuce and ciǧ köfte for the Ramadan cannon to signal “breakfast” time.

It's a busy fall weekday in Istanbul, the weather is perfect and the streets around Istanbul University, the Beyazit Mosque and the iconic Grand Bazaar are buzzing. In the late afternoon, shopkeepers are scrambling to make their last sales while the best restaurants in the area are getting ready to close. Mediocre establishments are open later into the night, with employees brandishing large menus and coaxing tourists through their doors. Avoiding the crowd around one of the bazaar's main entrances, we saunter down a side street where things instantly feel more local. We've come to the specific address of a kebab restaurant recommended by friend and intrepid Istanbul walk leader Benoit Hanquet, but there is no such eatery in sight.

With a main terminal of 1.44 million square meters, the new Istanbul Airport (IST) takes a lesson from its home city, paying homage to the gods of unnecessary sprawl and shopping malls. Rather than waste away under the fluorescent lights paying triple the price on duty free and forcing down disappointingly dry pide, store your bags for a few bucks and head out into the city for some unforgettable meals and sights. When circling into IST or the Asian side of the city’s Sabiha Gökçen Airport (SAW), the unending view of building upon building will tell you immediately: Istanbul is not the city to hop on a bus and see what happens.

In the main hall of Antakya’s bus station terminal, there are deep cracks in the walls, rubble litters the floor and dozens of ceiling panels seem to hang on by a thread, the entire thing threatening to collapse at any moment. Bus companies have set up mobile desks outside of the station, and it is from one of these where I buy my evening ticket back to the city of Adana, about four hours to the west by bus. Even though I've just arrived, I already have to plan my exit because there isn't really anywhere left in Antakya to stay the night. Like most structures in the city, the terminal was damaged in February's massive earthquake, the worst of its kind in modern Turkish history.

The southeastern Turkish city of Gaziantep is famed for its rich gastronomic culture, vast array of historic sites, and bustling bazaars. It was among the cities hit by the disastrous 7.8 earthquake on February 6 that has claimed more than 40,000 lives in Turkey and northern Syria. While Gaziantep fared much better compared to some of its neighbors in the region including Antakya, Kahramanmaraş and Adıyaman, the city was still struck in no small way. Large sections of its 2000-year-old fortress collapsed, and numerous centuries-old mosques in the historic center were damaged to varying degrees. High-rise apartments in the upmarket part of town were riddled with cracks and rendered uninhabitable.

Upon hearing about a restaurant run by Turks from Bulgaria serving the specialties of Turkey's northwestern neighbor, we decided to make a beeline to Istanbul's Bağcılar district, where the neighborhood of Güneşli is home to a population largely composed of ethnic Turks with roots in Bulgaria. As soon as we arrived at Deliorman Kebapçısı and saw the photos of kebapçe and Shopska salad and an interior that looked just like the folksy home-style restaurants of Plovdiv and Sofia, we knew it was worth the hour-plus journey, which involved two metro rides and a fairly lengthy walk. Nural Can runs Deliorman Kebapçısı with his father-in-law and two other relatives.

Despite 2022 being shaped by Turkey's deep economic crisis, Istanbul's restaurant scene remained resilient amid three-digit inflation and prices that seemed to increase every other day. Nevertheless, many bars, restaurants and tavernas stayed full as people turned to food and drink to help cope. With all Covid-19 restrictions removed, the sector enjoyed its best year since 2019 after being dealt a heavy blow by the pandemic in its first two years. As always, Istanbul remains an infinitely exciting to discover and eat, and choosing the top highlights of our culinary adventures was no small feat! 

In Turkish popular lore, the residents of Kilis, a town in Southeast Turkey near the Syrian border, are known for two things: kebab-making and smuggling. We haven’t been to Kilis, so we can’t vouch for the smuggling bit (although these days the town is featured regularly in the headlines as a hub for fighters being hustled across the border into Syria). But based on the food we’ve tried at Öz Kilis, a wonderful little spot on a quiet backstreet in Fatih run by two Kilis natives, we can report that the kebab-making reputation is well-deserved. Not just any kebab, mind you. Clearly an unorthodox and clever lot, the people of Kilis have a distinctly different approach to cooking meat. While a wide swath of humanity stretching from the Balkans to the Hindu Kush makes their kebabs by putting meat on a skewer and cooking it over a fire, the people of Kilis are famous for their “pan kebab,” a thin disc of ground meat that is cooked in a shallow metal dish that’s put in the oven.

Mtkvari, the local name for the Kura River, divides Tbilisi. Until the launch of Fabrika – a disused Soviet-era garment factory turned into a trendy social-space-cum-hostel in 2016 – few gentrified souls from the city’s fancier shore crossed over to the left bank. Fewer still stepped out further than the central Marjanishvili neighborhood, making it past Dezerter Bazaar – the throbbing gastronomic heart from where most of the city’s fresh produce and meats originate. This is also where Leonid Chkhikvishvili buys fresh cuts of meat each morning for his restaurant Duqani Kasumlo, located even further north on the left bank in Didube. Here is a neighborhood where few travelers tread, except perhaps to quickly pass through to catch cheap intercity mashrutkas (mini-buses). But despite its overlooked location, Duqani Kasumlo has acquired semi-cult status for its kebabs in an area better known for its cluster of home improvement stores and the labyrinthine Eliava market, home to hawkers of used car parts and construction materials.