An Insider's Istanbul

A wave of culinary creativity and innovation in Turkey's largest city nods to the past, even as it's laser-focused on the future.

- Anya von Bremzen

I LIVE PART OF THE YEAR IN ISTANBUL, and my homecoming there almost always involves a serious re-encounter with lahmacun, that flattered, paper-thin, fire-kissed flatbread topped with spicy ground meat. Normally, one devours lahma-cun in hazy kebab joints. But last year I found myself at Seraf, well, a design-forward restaurant in a district of glass skyscrapers and malls far from the city center, marveling at the whole-wheat lahmacun crust, which was simultaneously earthy and light under a succulent topping of minced grass-fed Anatolian lamb. My excitement continued with the içli köfte, lamb-filled bulgur balls, usually deep-fried but here delicately poached and served with a rich homemade yogurt. There were plump mantı dumplings, too, crisped over a wood fire, and flavorful dollops of sun-dried eggplants and peppers. Aside from some regional specialties, Seraf’s menu is what Turkish food at home or at Formica-topped canteen tables—when transposed to a beautiful setting, refined by rigorous attention to detail and ingredient sourcing, and accompanied by wines from a deep, mostly Turkish list, the dishes evoked endless exclamatory marks and epiphanies. The familiar suddenly tasted utterly fresh.

Seraf’s chef represents a decade-long dream, the Kurdish restaurateur Hüseyin Kılıçdaro, who longed to eat “at the top fine-dining places of Europe,” he recalls, and started to wonder: “Why not in our cuisine, with its rich blend of heritages—Armenian, Arab, Greek, Kurdish—deserve the same setting and treatment?” Finding an inspired collaborator in chef SinemÖzger, a passionate crusader for traditional Anatolian pathways, he opened Seraf in 2022, earning rave reviews and a devoted following. Whenever I’m in town, I try to get here at least once a week—each meal a delicious reminder of how much Istanbul’s restaurant scene has matured.