The prospect of this, my first trip to Istanbul, evoked mixed feelings. It's famous, of course, for the richness of its history and the many civilisations that shaped it. Yet I had also been haunted by a beautiful, melancholy memoir of growing up here by Orhan Pamuk: in Memories of a City, he talks of its sense of decay and the devastating effect that former Turkish leader Mustafa Kemal Ataturk's patriotic drive had on its diversity. Friends were divided, too: some raved about the place, others were disappointed. I came away spellbound.
Flying into Istanbul, it reinforces every well-worn cliché about it straddling west and east. Beneath you lies a powerful, hilly city, set across two seas and two continents, and this feeling never really leaves you as you walk its streets, hear its sounds, see its sights. I, however, have come primarily on a taste tour. Recipes such as fried eggs with yoghurt and chilli, garlicky aubergine dishes and honey-drenched puddings have long tantalised me. What I find is a city that caters for every taste, whether it is casual, bustling canteens, formal Ottoman-style restaurants, mouthwatering street concoctions or high-end cooking in slick, modern spaces.
My husband and I are staying at the hip W hotel in Besiktas, formerly a working-class district of Istanbul that was largely built to house the employees of the vast, magnificent Dolmabahçe Palace below it, once the seat of government. Today the area is more like Notting Hill, dotted with Marc Jacobs and Marni boutiques and a scattering of exceedingly good restaurants. The W Kitchen has a menu that is led by fresh, local ingredients (globe artichokes, samphire, courgettes, beets) yet still makes room for crowd pleasers like fontina with black truffles. To find such food on our doorstep is a bonus.
