Our second day in Istanbul involved a trip to the Grand Bazaar. After two hours of wandering around in circles looking at thousands of almost identical scarves, bags, bowls and packets of Turkish tea, The Boyfriend was close to abandoning me alone in the middle of the thing. The final straw came after a ten minute discussion with a store owner about two very similar bracelets, The Boyfriend let out a howl of frustration and it was time to leave. Walking quickly we left the Bazaar, and headed down the main street in Sultanahmet. This was a probably a good thing - my arms were starting to strain under the weight of new purchases as I knew my suitcase would in three days, but hey, at least my wallet was lighter.
We were headed for Sultanahmet Koftecisi - a 90 year old restaurant specializing in Turkish meatballs. Despite its location in the heat of tourist Istanbul, proximate to the Blue mosque, Hagia Sophia and the Cisterna, this was by no means a tourist trap. Reassuringly, there were mainly locals, and a distinct lack of catering for English speakers.
As far as I could tell there was no menu. We sat and The Boyfriend ordered their one and only starter and of course, two sets of meatballs. Bread arrived immediately.
Starter may not be the most appropriate word as while it did arrive before the meatballs, the difference was 30 seconds or so. The bean salad on its own wasn't that exciting, but after tasting the meatballs it seemed like a necessary addition - some vegetable, healthy like substances needed to counter the mass of ozzing meat.
The meatballs. Oh, those meatballs. They looked unlike any meatballs I had ever see and they also tasted like no other. There was a distinct lack of bread crumbs herbs or other seasons just salt and pepper. This lended to the oddly, smooth texture of the meat, which was so much finer than mince in your average meatball, silken almost. It was fleshy and clung together without any binding, interwoven like a Bottega Veneta handbag. I am not a big red meat eater on the best of days but this was different. The meat was light, and greasy but a good greasy - with every bite there was a spurt of liquid encapsulated within the meat. (Please note if you ever see - Tukuruk Koftesi - this are " spit meatballs " named so because the people who used to make them used to spit on their hands and then form the meatballs - no comment on this process on this process and I'm not sure if they still they do this but just a warning.)
The real way your meant to eat these is even better though, where the grease becomes a necessary lubricant goes like this - you take half a bun, shove the meatball in the centre accompanied by some spicy sauce, than they will bring round, and some lettuce and munch. It is perfect. It is like a hot dog and a hamburger rolled into one. Totally moorish. The pickled green peppers, like the salad were refreshing, tangy and a perfect condiment.
We finished the meal with two classic deserts. Irmik Helvasi (pronounced Helva) and Kemalpasa (pronounced kemal pasha, named after the place it comes from in Turkey, Kemalpasa, Borsa). The helva, was a very different desert, I am slowly realising most Turkish deserts are, but that's another story. It is wheat based and really does taste like what, a bit like breakfast cereal after it has begun to disolve in milk. The texture was quite different. It looks like tightly packed brown sugar, and tasted like it too if only brown sugar was soft and squidgy.
The Kemalpasha were little syrupy balls of cake, a little too sweet and a little too cold for me to like them.
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