Eat Your Way Through Türkiye: Beyond Doner Kebab And Baklava
Shaped by the Ottoman Empire, Silk Road trade routes and centuries of regional diversity, the country offers one of the world’s richest culinary traditions
Like many Indians, my introduction to Turkish food began with the doner kebab and ended, predictably, with baklava. It took a journey through Türkiye to discover just how inadequate that picture was.
Beneath those familiar exports lie one of the world’s richest culinary traditions, shaped by the Ottoman Empire, Silk Road trade routes and centuries of regional diversity. And perhaps the best way to understand Türkiye is simply to eat your way through it.
Beyond the Doner
Kebabs are undoubtedly one of Turkish cuisine’s great calling cards, but the word barely begins to describe the variety on offer. During the Ottoman period, kebabs evolved in palace kitchens, absorbing influences from across the empire and giving rise to countless regional variations.
In southern Türkiye, there is the fiery Adana kebab, made with spicy minced lamb skewered and cooked over embers. Its cousin, the Urfa kebab, is noticeably milder. Even something as apparently straightforward as Tavuk Kanat, charcoal-grilled chicken wings, is transformed by carefully balanced spice rubs.
Then there is the dürüm, meat and accompaniments wrapped inside lavash bread, an enduring favourite for a quick street-side meal.
But few kebabs come with as much theatre as Cappadocia’s Testi kebab. A speciality of the Nevşehir region, the dish is cooked inside pottery made using red clay from the Kızılırmak River. Beef, tomatoes, bell peppers, garlic and a knob of butter go into the pot, which is then sealed with dough or a peeled slice of potato before being placed inside a wood-burning oven.
Once it is ready, the pot is broken open. At our hotel in Cappadocia, the chef performed the ritual tableside, turning dinner into a piece of culinary theatre.
Istanbul offers another classic: Iskender kebab. It originated in the 19th century at Iskender Efendi’s shop in Bursa. Thin slices of grilled meat are placed over pita pieces, then covered with freshly made tomato sauce and sizzling melted butter. It is served alongside tangy yoghurt, grilled tomato and green peppers.
Türkiye Runs on Simit
If kebabs are among Türkiye’s most famous foods, simit might be the one that actually keeps the country going.
The circular, sesame-encrusted bread resembles a Turkish bagel and seems to be everywhere. Street vendors carry baskets of it or push carts piled high; bakeries and cafés sell it; commuters pick it up at tram, train and metro stations.
Tradition holds that simit was created in the palace kitchens of Suleyman the Magnificent in the 1500s, although no official records survive to prove it. In October 2019, “simit” was officially recognised by the Oxford English Dictionary, making it inseparable from Turkish food.
Türkiye also has its own answers to pizza.
Lahmacun is a thin Middle Eastern flatbread topped with meat, vegetables and herbs, usually served with fresh parsley and a squeeze of lemon. Turks have been eating versions of it for more than 300 years.
Then there is pride. Dough is stretched into an elongated, boat-like base and loaded with a variety of toppings. Vegetarian versions abound, including the popular spinach-and-cheese combination. What makes pide particularly addictive is its crust: the intense heat of a wood-fired oven produces a crisp, crunchy base that can carry almost anything.
A Vegetarian Feast
For a country so closely associated abroad with kebabs, Türkiye is surprisingly easy to navigate as a vegetarian. Beans, cucumber and tomato salads and a seemingly endless assortment of vegetarian mezze mean there is rarely a shortage of food.
One of my favourite discoveries was kumpir.
It begins with an enormous baked potato, sliced open and mashed with butter and cheese until the inside becomes creamy and fluffy. Then you choose the toppings. Olives, pickles, corn, peas and assorted vegetables can keep it completely vegetarian, while sausages and other meats are available for those who want them. Finally, sauces are added according to taste.
Kumpir originated in Yugoslavia, but the Turks have given it their own spin and made it thoroughly their own. Although it is available nationwide, I tried mine at Aciktim in Ankara.
Manti and Gözleme
Another must-eat is mantı, Türkiye’s answer to tiny ravioli.
Traditionally, these miniature dumplings are stuffed with spiced meat, boiled and then smothered in cool garlic yoghurt and sizzling melted butter infused with red pepper. The cheese, potato, and cabbage versions make the dish accessible to vegetarians, too.
I ate mantı at a little restaurant in Cappadocia, where two elderly women sat making each dumpling by hand. Their size matters. Legend has it that a truly accomplished Turkish housewife should be able to make mantı so tiny that 40 of them fit on a single spoon.
They also have illustrious historical credentials. Records from Topkapı Palace show that Sultan Mehmed II, conqueror of Byzantine Constantinople in 1453, was so fond of mantı that he allegedly ate them for breakfast for 28 days.
Then there is gözleme, also known as sac böreği. Paper-thin pastry is cooked on a sac, a hot, convex metal plate, and filled with salty white cheese, spinach or minced beef. Rolling the dough without tearing it requires considerable skill.
Even the name tells a story. “Göz” means “eye”, and gözleme is believed to take its name from the dark spots that appear as the pastry cooks and absorbs oil on the surface, creating little “eyes” across its surface.
Turkish Tea
While Turkish coffee may be the country’s best-known beverage abroad, daily life runs on çay (pronounced chai).
Enter a shop in Istanbul’s Grand Bazaar or sit down to talk with locals, and tea often appears almost immediately. Tea is said to have first reached Türkiye from Japan in 1894, during the reign of Abdülhamid II. It became popular at the Ottoman palace, although the wider public did not embrace it until the mid-20th century.
Once they did, they welcomed it enthusiastically.
There is no prescribed tea time. Çay can be drunk anywhere and at practically any hour, weak or strong, with sugar or without, and even in flavours such as apple. It arrives in the unmistakable tulip-shaped glass, pinched at the “waist”. Nearly 400 million of these glasses are sold in Türkiye every year, while researchers estimate that Turkish people consume an average of 1,300 cups of tea per person annually.
For something cooler, try ayran, the savoury yoghurt drink that will remind Indian travellers immediately of chhachh, albeit without the tempering that gives the latter its distinctive flavour.
Raki after dark
And then there is raki, Türkiye’s unofficial national alcoholic drink.
The clear, anise-flavoured spirit, usually distilled twice from grapes or raisins, contains around 40 to 50 per cent alcohol. Add water or ice, and it turns cloudy white, earning it the nickname “lion’s milk”.
But raki is as much a ritual as a drink. It is meant to be consumed slowly and cold, over a long table filled with cold meze and surrounded by friends. It is not something to gulp, and certainly not something traditionally drunk alone.
In Istanbul and Ankara, small bars devoted to raki and meze fill up after work, their tables buzzing well into the evening.
In Türkiye, eating is inseparable from place, history and company.
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