The five-star Pera Palace is undoubtedly Istanbul’s most iconic hotel, with its palatial rooms and suites named after the legendary guests that stayed there, such as Agatha Christie, Alfred Hitchcock, Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis and Ernest Hemingway. Practically synonymous with the Istanbul of a century ago, it is the subject of a lovely tome, "Midnight at the Pera Palace" by Charles King, that locates the hotel within the fantastically tumultuous years leading up to and following the establishment of the Turkish Republic. Though we admire the Pera Palace and cannot understate its importance to the city’s modern history, it is not our favorite Istanbul hotel. That honor is reserved for the Büyük Londra (Grand Hotel de Londres), located just a stone’s throw away on the opposite side of the stately Meşrutiyet Avenue.

When it comes to the first meal of the day in Beşiktaş, it’s hard to replace the institution that was Pando’s lovely old kaymak shop. Yet as much as Pando was the neighborhood’s culinary standard-bearer, another side of breakfast in Beşiktaş has emerged in the last five or so years, a side that feels more contemporary, more real and – somehow – even more “Beşiktaş.” After being tipped off long ago, by 2013 we finally came to appreciate the simple charms of Çakmak Kahvaltı Salonu, which is currently swimming in a sea of breakfast cafes that align Istanbul's now infamous Kahvaltıcılar Sokağı. Beşiktaş is a large district in central Istanbul with an equally large and varied population, but at its commercial center, the çarşı (market), there is a coherent feeling of local identity. The neighborhood’s sometime champion soccer team is certainly a unifying force, as is the underdog political party (CHP) that remains popular, but the “Beşiktaş type” can’t be reduced to simple affiliations.

Pickled honeydew may sound like an odd arrangement, but it's surprisingly delicious, and among the vast array of pickled treats one can sample on our Two Markets, Two Continents walk in Istanbul.

In a 2003 TV commercial for Cola Turka, the actor Chevy Chase was seen speaking Turkish and then sporting a moustache, after taking just one sip of the intended challenger of Coke in this country. This sensational ad – which riffed on the old theme of American cultural imperialism through its number-one agent, Coca-Cola – was the first time that Turkish soft drinks caught our attention. Though we didn’t take to the overly sweet Cola Turka, we did start looking beyond, to its local brethren in the market: gazoz, a world of nearly extinct Turkish carbonated drink brands with a fanatical following.

Like many other Egyptians, when Cairo Restaurant owner Magdy Hegad talks about khushari, his eyes glisten with an emotion akin to love – but when he talks about seafood, the glisten is elevated to something closer to religious fervor. “We do it differently,” he explains. “Just try it, and you will see.” We first ventured to Cairo Restaurant with an Egyptian friend eager to show us the delights of a cuisine we had learned little about, let alone tried. As we entered the restaurant, it became clear that this was to be a very different meal than what we had grown used to in dining around the city.

Back at Culinary Backstreets Istanbul headquarters in 2012, every once in a while a conversation would arise about how çiğ köfte had emerged as a sort of fast-food franchising opportunity, with young entrepreneurial types starting up these meat-free meatball joints in all sorts of Istanbul neighborhoods. We all agreed it was much cooler than opening a KFC or an Orange Julius in the food court (though the former has been making its mark across the shopping malls of Turkey for a while now), and we were happy to see the ambitious souls of Turkey setting their sights on the bulgur meatball stand instead. The bespoke lokma shops and waffle bars may come and go, but çiğ köfte has its forever fans of all generations – and a new clientele now that it has caught on to its vegan marketing potential.

Istanbul's Kurtuluş neighborhood is home to a number of slow-burners, establishments that may be hidden in plain view due to their plainness but that end up becoming some of our favorites. Gimmicks don’t fly in down-to-earth Kurtuluş, where neighborly ties are strong and home-cooked meals are preferred. Tucked on a side street in the middle of the quarter is a small eatery that exemplifies this tried-and-true character. Behind windows that fog up quickly in the winter sit a handful of tables facing an open kitchen in what might be Istanbul's coziest restaurant, Ben-u Sen, which showcases the divine ev yemekleri (home cooking) of the delightful Nuray Güzel.

While meandering through a market in Istanbul’s Beşiktaş, we spotted unripe figs that are perfect for making delicious fig jam. The thought of the sweet yet refreshing taste together with kaymak was making us drool, so we bought some and headed on home to make jam.

In search of new adventures, we recently decided to venture to Beykoz, on the northern end of Istanbul’s Anatolian side, near where the Bosphorus meets the Black Sea. Getting there required an hour-long ferry ride – basically a mini Bosphorus cruise – from Üsküdar, and upon arrival we immediately felt catapulted out of the chaos into a green, peaceful haven. After a walk in the lush local park, Beykoz Korusu, we headed to the center, where an old lokanta opens onto a main square. “Kök Kardeşler Lokantası – Kuruluş 1935” (“Brothers Kök – since 1935”) read the restaurant’s sign. The simple but meaningful words were written in bright yellow decal on the window. Kök Kardeşler’s unpretentious apperance and the fact that it was a family-run business compelled us to stop inside and grab a quick lunch on what was an unusually cold spring day. “Hoş geldiniz,” Hamit, one of four Kök (the name means “roots” in Turkish) siblings who have been managing this little diner, said as we entered, showing an old-fashioned politeness that we now rarely see when eating at restaurants in more popular parts of town.

On the walls at Haritna Restaurant are homages to simple sights: a large gate, ancient Damascene windows – it’s a scene that hopes to inspire the very particular feeling of sitting in the middle of a Damascus square, down a well-trodden, old lane. For in Arabic, haritna means “our lane.” Also a colloquial term for neighborhood, Haritna evokes a sense of home for those now living far away. In fact, owner Loay Bakdash, originally from Damascus himself, had dreamed of opening such a restaurant while working as a civil engineer in Saudi Arabia. But he didn’t want it to be a place where people would just come and eat. “I wanted the customers to feel that they are in one of Damascus’ neighborhoods, among their acquaintances in a family-friendly atmosphere,” he says.

The first few blocks of Baruthane are lined with a smattering of restaurants, barbers, television repair shops and dry cleaners, though in recent years a flurry of third-wave coffee shops and bars has arrived on the street. While this is a positive development for the young adults that patronize these establishments, there is the inevitable concern that their proliferation will cause a spike in rents and tarnish the quaint character of this beloved neighborhood. It is for this reason that we were thrilled to see a new establishment open up on Baruthane that reflects the classic small-business character that makes this area so special. Köy Börek is run by Abdullah Kral, a cheerful 53-year-old teddy bear of a man who makes some of the most delicious börek we’ve ever had – and we’ve had a lot. (Kral means king in Turkish, and we are prepared to crown Abdullah bey the king of börek.)

We recently spoke with travel writer Caroline Eden about her culinary travelogue, Black Sea: Dispatches and Recipes, Through Darkness and Light (Hardie Grant; May 2019). Eden has written for the Guardian, the Telegraph and the Financial Times, among other publications, and has filed stories from Uzbekistan, Ukraine, Russia, Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan and Azerbaijan for BBC Radio 4’s From Our Own Correspondent. Eden is also co-author of Samarkand: Recipes & Stories from Central Asia & the Caucasus (Kyle Books; July 2016), a Guardian book of the year in 2016 and winner of the Guild of Food Writers Award for best food and travel book in 2017.

Like most Syrians who fled their war-ravaged country and made their way to Turkey, Fatma Jabal, a 19-year-old from Aleppo now living in Istanbul, had to get creative in order to make a living. With a baby boy to take care of and her husband struggling to provide for their family while working as a carpenter, Fatma tapped into something she’s been doing since she was a child: baking cakes and cookies. Making desserts had been something Fatma has loved from early on growing up in Aleppo, which she left in 2014 in the midst of the worsening conflict there. For her, each treat she bakes is a work of art that just happens to be edible. “The first thing I did in the kitchen was sweets,” she says. But Fatma realized she needed to develop her budding baking prowess to start charging customers.

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.

On our Born on the Bosphorus walk, we visit the fresh market in Beşiktaş where vendors boast fresh erik (sour green plums), çağla (unripe almonds) and types of local kiraz (cherry). The taste peak for these spring specialties is somewhat short, leaving expats to hunt for vendors that will ship early and fast enough.