Gaziantep holds the official title of Türkiye’s culinary capital, but in my own humble opinion its neighbour Şanlıurfa deserves that fame quite as much. Where Antep wins with elaborately constructed sweets and formidable marketing, Urfa offers something else: cleaner flavours and a more delicate pleasure in eating.
If Antep is a noisy festival, Urfa is a deep, unhurried meal among one’s own. Here are the three pillars on which the local kitchen rests:
1. Çiğ köfte and the magic of isot
Strictly speaking, çiğ köfte can be had in any corner of Türkiye, but for the genuine article one must come to Urfa. It is the emblem of Mesopotamian hospitality. The name translates literally as “raw meatball.” Historically it is a dish of bulgur, spices, and raw minced meat, “cooked” in the very process of prolonged and vigorous kneading by hand.
The chief secret here is isot. The etymology of the name could hardly be more direct: it is a contraction of the Turkish ısı otu, “heat herb.” And it lives up to the name entirely. This is a unique local variety of chilli: it is dried in the sun, then wrapped tightly in cloth overnight so that it “sweats.” The pepper darkens to a near-black and acquires a deep, smoky aroma with notes of chocolate and dried fruit. On the Scoville scale isot rates about seven and a half thousand units—roughly the hottest a jalapeño ever gets.
There is a standing joke in Türkiye that the people of Urfa eat their isot by the spoonful—and looking at the saturated colour of the local dishes, one believes it readily enough.
2. Urfa kebab &co.
By contrast with the fiery çiğ köfte, and unlike its wicked brother from Adana, the Urfa kebab is the milder proposition, which lets the quality of the meat come through. Ours arrived with a small lahmacun (from the Arabic laḥm bi-ʿajīn, “meat with dough”). It is the perfect pairing, the crisp flatbread base setting off the juiciness of the kebab.
3. Home-made ayran
All this abundance is to be washed down with açık ayran, “open” ayran, and nothing else. The word açık (‘open’) signals that the drink is freshly made and served loose, not from a bottle.
In the right establishments it comes from special fountain-machines in which the ayran circulates continuously, falling from a height, which aerates it thoroughly. The result is an astonishingly light texture under a tall cap of foam. It is served in copper cups that hold an icy chill—the best possible way of putting out that capsaicin conflagration from the isot eaten “by the spoonful.”
Where to try?
We decided to trust the locals and made for Dedecan. I recommend it sincerely: genuine local cooking, without touristic excess, and at an entirely reasonable price.
Should you find yourself in these parts, do not be in a hurry to hand Antep the crown unopposed. Give Urfa its chance—its quiet culinary power is capable of astonishing you.
