2018 in Istanbul seemed to be dominated by discussions of financial woes. Amid an ongoing economic crisis, the lira shed half of its value between January and August, resulting in a spike in prices of even the most basic staples. Everything seemed expensive in relation to Turkish wages, which dramatically declined in value literally overnight. People who wanted to leave the country couldn’t, as foreign currency became too expensive to obtain. Naturally, prices on the menu also shot up, but Istanbul’s restaurant scene has remained thriving amid the recession. In 2018, we found a number of the city’s classic establishments doing business as usual, while some well-received newcomers joined the fold to major success even in these troubled times. Allow us to present Istanbul’s Best Bites of 2018.

In happier times in Aleppo, a sweet drink called sharab al-louz ¬– made with almond extract, milk and sugar – was a staple at celebratory events such as engagement parties and weddings, Ammar Rida recalls. That was before he had to leave his job as a lecturer at the University of Aleppo and flee Syria lest he be conscripted to fight in the war that has been ravaging his country for the past seven years. Today, Rida, a serious man in his late thirties with short salt-and-pepper hair and a stubbly beard, is working to establish a business selling sharab al-louz and other healthy, natural drinks – some traditional to Syria and others he is developing based on his background in food science – at restaurants in Istanbul.

Turkish wine is something of a paradox. Despite being one of the oldest winemaking countries on earth, Turkey is by no means a big wine-drinking country. Go to any bar or meyhane in Istanbul and you’re more likely to see people guzzling large pints of frothy beer or swirling delicate glasses containing cloudy rakı. Yet there are over a hundred wineries operating across the country, roughly half of which are small producers making less than 250,000 bottles a year. Many of these wineries, big and small, are producing award-winning vino. The struggle lies in finding these high-quality wines out in the wilds of Istanbul.

It’s just shy of noon when we step into the new location of Ozzie’s Kokoreç in Istanbul’s Asmalımescit neighborhood. Proprietor and usta Oğuzhan Sayı and his wife Gizem are preparing for another busy day in their compact, sharply-designed new restaurant. As we begin to chat, Oğuzhan gets a call that he has to take. It’s from the Hilton, which has requested a large order of Oğuzhan’s specialty. And while kokoreç – rolled lamb intestines roasted over a spit before being chopped up, grilled and doused with a layer of herbs and spices – is primarily known as a humble street food staple, one that’s most popular among those who have had a few, we aren’t surprised at the loftiness of this order.

On our Born on the Bosphorus walk, we popped into a baklava and börek shop for a mid-morning snack. Our eyes lit up at the glittering trays of baklava and sheets of golden-brown pastry that filled the window. Unable to decide between sweet and savory, we had a little bit of both.

Walking around the busy Çarşamba Market in Fatih on a Wednesday, we spot a line of people waiting patiently in front of a butcher shop. Not wholly unsurprising, since it is a market day, but we notice that some of them are enjoying particularly tasty-looking döner sandwiches. The tempting smell coming from the little shop, an innocuous place named Seçkin Et ve Tavuk, convinces us to join the crowd – a mixture of families, groups of old ladies and men taking a break from work – and grab a portion of döner accompanied by fresh tomatoes, pickles and fries, and washed down by the ever-present ayran.

On a side street in Istanbul’s Fatih district, a neighborhood now brimming with Syrians, a small restaurant makes many passers-by do a double take – the 1960s-style façade looks like something straight out of Damascus. Upon closer inspection, they would see a man inside standing in front of a flame-kissed tandoor, the same one used to bake Damascene bread. When they read the name of the restaurant – Bouz Al-Jidi, the same name to crown a famous Damascene restaurant – it cements their hunch that they have found a gateway to old Damascus. The interior of the restaurant is decked out in traditional Damascene style, with a turquoise and dark green color palette and small wooden tables surrounded by wooden handmade chairs made of bamboo and straw.

In a 2007 essay for the New Yorker packed to the brim with wonderful imagery arousing multiple senses, the novelist Orhan Pamuk recalls sneakily wolfing down a hot dog at a büfe near Taksim Square in 1964. His older brother Şevket catches him in the act and proceeds to rat on him to their mother, who did not allow the boys to partake in street food on the basis that it was dirty and gleaned from dubious sources. Hot dogs and hamburgers were new arrivals in Istanbul back then, as were street vendors selling lahmacun and sucuk ekmek. The city was undergoing a renaissance in terms of fast food and street food, delicacies eagerly sought after by youngsters like Pamuk but reviled by their concerned mothers.

It’s the eve of Kurban Bayramı, and while most of Istanbul is eerily empty, the tables at Köklem Uygur Yemekleri in Çapa, a neighborhood in the Fatih district, are quickly filling up. A young couple calmly chats, using chopsticks to pick up sautéed chicken slathered in soy sauce. At a nearby table a man sits alone, his bored countenance swiftly replaced by a broad smile as a waiter arrives at his table with a steaming plate of noodles, ready to be devoured. Most of the customers are speaking a language we can’t decode. But based on how happy everyone looks, this food is bringing them some serious joy.

Fall may be on its way, but some vendors in the Bazaar quarter are stretching out the last days of summer with their breakfast of watermelon. Of course their kahvaltı spread features many of the usual suspects – tomatoes, cucumbers, white cheese, olives, tea – but the watermelon is the true star of this morning meal.

It’s dinnertime and every table is full at Hayata Sarıl Lokantası, a cozy restaurant with crisp white walls, a patterned-tile floor, and cheery flowers on the café-style tables. “Are you going to serve that sometime tonight?” a floor manager barks sarcastically into the cramped kitchen, where black-apron-clad servers scramble to fill new plates while a tiny dishwasher churns through the old ones, steaming up the room like a sauna on an already sultry Istanbul summer night. The scene is likely familiar to anyone who’s worked in a restaurant, but with a major difference: the diners are members of the city’s homeless population, being cooked for and served by volunteers and people who once lived on the streets themselves.

Editor’s note: It’s Beat the Heat Week at Culinary Backstreets, and in this week’s stories, we’re sharing some of our favorite spots to visit when the summer temperatures soar. One of the great joys of spring and summertime in Istanbul is the chance to get away for a day to one of the Princes’ Islands, the car-free and forested archipelago that is a short ferry ride away from the city. The only downside to an island hop is actually getting there: as soon as spring makes its first appearance in Istanbul, the hordes descend on the mainland’s ferry terminal, filling the boats to beyond capacity (at least on the weekends).

Every time we venture down to Turkey’s Çukurova region, particularly its largest cities of Mersin and Adana, we leave more intrigued than we were on the previous visit. In much closer proximity to Cyprus and Beirut than Izmir and Istanbul, these are truly southern Mediterranean cities, with blooming flowers, incredible citrus fruits, towering palm trees and scorching summers. Major cities with keen urban identities, they’re inhabited by highly diverse populations and characterized by architectural styles not seen further north. And did we mention the cuisine? Adana is the undisputed capital of kebab, and the city of Antakya is among the finest culinary destinations in the country. While Mersin may take a backseat to these regional heavyweights, it boasts its own delicacy, tantuni, which was our first source of inspiration for taking the trip south. We quickly learned that the coastal city of one million boasts a number of other culinary specialties that for the most part have not made it outside the region.

We recently spoke to food historian and researcher Priscilla Mary Işın about her new book, “Bountiful Empire: A History of Ottoman Cuisine” (Reaktion Books; May 2018). She has previously published edited transcriptions of texts relating to Ottoman food culture and “Sherbet and Spice: The Complete Story of Turkish Sweets and Desserts” (2008), a social history of Ottoman sweets and puddings.

Cumhuriyet Avenue bridges the central Istanbul districts of Beyoğlu and Şişli, and is flanked on its eastern side by a number of large complexes including the city’s expansive Military Museum, the iconic Hilton and Divan Hotels, a towering officer’s club, and a public theater and convention center. In contrast, its western strip consists of a lengthy row of multistory apartment buildings, mostly modern but with a few gems from the turn of the century, housing tourism agencies and foreign consulates. Behind these lie the Harbiye quarter, home to a collection of smaller, charming historic buildings, most of which have seen much better days. It is a generally safe area if a bit seedy, with a number of questionable nightclubs on basement floors.