Chef Fatih Tutak’s perfect day in Istanbul

This article is part of FT Globetrotter’s guide to Istanbul

Istanbul is home. I grew up here — and after years abroad in Asia, returning felt like breathing in again. The city’s energy, its chaos, its speed — and its layers of history and culture — nourish me. It’s where I live, think and dream up the dishes that shape our menu at [my restaurant] TURK. Every street corner carries a memory. 

My perfect day starts quietly, with an espresso in bed at my flat in Cihangir, tucked between the bustle of Taksim and the historic streets of Çukurcuma and Galata. This part of the city has long been a magnet for artists, writers, actors — people who live and create. There’s a friendliness to it: I know the grocer, the record store Plakolik, the guy at the coffee shop Etna down the road. And I like that — the sense of being part of something.

I’m not one for Turkish coffee. Give me a perfectly extracted espresso, brewed at home, always in bed. I’ll sip slowly and scroll through the day’s schedule, or begin sketching out seasonal ideas for the restaurant.

Fuelled up, I like to head out and feel the pulse of the city. If I’m alone, I’ll take one of my favourite walks — down through the winding alleys of Karaköy to Eminönü, where the ferry piers spread along the edge of the Golden Horn. Eminönü is one of the city’s oldest ports — a lively crossroads of fishermen, street vendors and the domes of centuries-old mosques. It’s the kind of place where you feel the deep history of Istanbul with every step. 

The ferry is Istanbul life in motion. There’s no better way to cross the Bosphorus: the breeze, the gulls, the city sliding past on both sides

From there, I board the ferry to Kadıköy on the Asian side, a neighbourhood that feels both old and effortlessly vivid. And this ferry, well, it is Istanbul life in motion. I just look around and observe. The people, the waterline. On a cold day, I’ll grab a steaming cup of salep — a thick, milky drink made from orchid tubers, dusted with cinnamon — and let it burn my tongue slightly, as it should. There’s no better way to cross the Bosphorus: the sea breeze, the seagulls, the city sliding past on both sides.

In Kadıköy, my first stop is always the market — a buzzing sprawl of wet counters and shouting fishmongers. You’ll find it on Güneşli Bahçe Sok, just off the main road Söğütlü Çeşme Caddesi. I’ll visit my butcher’s, Yalçındağ, who know just how I like my offal: kidneys, hearts, sweetbreads. I’ll pick up herbs, vegetables, maybe stop for a street-side mussel fry with beer. 

Sometimes I sit down for a quick lahmacun — a thin, crispy flatbread topped with minced lamb, spices and herbs. For something more substantial, I’ll stop at Nazende, a simple, honest restaurant serving classic Turkish dishes. But when it comes to seafood, my favourite is Balıkçı Kahraman, tucked away in Rumeli Kavağı, north of the city — where the Bosphorus meets the Black Sea. It’s a favourite among locals: no frills, just extraordinary fish.

Afternoons are for wandering. Kadıköy’s streets are full of old patisseries, comic-book shops and vintage stores. When I was in my twenties, I spent long nights at Barlar Sokağı — Bar Street — listening to live rock music. In the early 2000s, it was raw and electric: every bar had a band, and many of Turkey’s most famous rock acts got their start there. That spirit — creative, rebellious — still lingers today.

If I have time, I’ll stop by Baylan, a historic pastry shop that’s been here since 1923. Its signature dessert, Kup Griye, is a nostalgic tower of ice cream, caramel and roasted nuts — a kind of Turkish trifle-meets-sundae. It’s pure joy.

From Kadıköy, I like to stretch my legs and head into Moda — one of my favourite neighbourhoods — where the pace slows again. Moda has small cafés, leafy streets and a nostalgic, village-like feel, with craftsmen and boutiques tucked between 19th-century villas. The Asian side has a different rhythm: more neighbourhood, less theatre.

Later, I’ll ferry back across to Beşiktaş — another part of the city that shaped me. I spent my student days here, living with friends just off the market. Beşiktaş is lively, local and scrappy in the best way: tea houses spilling on to sidewalks, fish markets, football fans gathering in the square.

For dinner, it has to be a traditional meyhane: rakı, meze, laughter. Somewhere cosy and authentic — not the big names on the Bosphorus, but places tucked into side streets where the waiter remembers your face. Some of those spots have sadly closed recently, but the spirit of Istanbul lives on in the meyhane restaurants — in conversation, in sharing. Asmali Cavit is one of them. Grilled octopus, fava purée, seasonal greens. A table full of small plates and good stories stretching deep into the night — the perfect Istanbul ending.

TURK Fatih Tutak, Cumhuriyet Hacıahmet Silahşör Cad, Yeniyol Sk 2, 34440 Şişli/Istanbul. Open Tuesday-Saturday, 6.30pm-11pm. Website; Directions

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