I was born and raised in Istanbul — a city where food is never just food, but memory, culture, and conversation layered over centuries. Living there teaches you that a kitchen is shaped not only by ingredients, but by people, migrations, seasons, and shared tables.
For eighteen years I ran a restaurant called Kantin.
It began as a neighbourhood eatery and slowly became a place known for what I came to call New Istanbul Cuisine — cooking rooted in tradition, sometimes classical, sometimes inventive, always seasonal and always personal.
I do not claim to represent all of Turkish cuisine.
It is vast, regional, and deeply diverse.
I speak from the place I truly know: Istanbul home cooking.
A kitchen shaped by markets, neighbours of diverse ethnicities, family tables, and the rhythm of the seasons.
Over the years, my work expanded beyond the restaurant — into writing, teaching, and building an archive of recipes and techniques.
Today, I continue this journey through videos, online classes, workshops, and books.
My intention is simple:
to share what I know with clarity and honesty,
and to keep a living record of a kitchen that continues to evolve.
If you are here, you are already part of that conversation.
The traditional way of harvesting olives is to shake the tree
The first important step is to collect the olives from the tree. However, if no net is used to catch the olives before they hit the ground, this process can result in bruised olives the crushing of which produces a lower-quality oil.
Why Istanbul
Şemsa D.
Istanbul is not only where I was born.
It is a city shaped by centuries of trade, migration, empire, and exchange.
Its kitchens carry the traces of many cultures, beliefs, and peoples who lived side by side and left their flavours behind.
This diversity did not create one single cuisine,
but a layered way of cooking —
where the same ingredient can tell different stories depending on the neighbourhood, the season, or the family table.
When I speak about Turkish food,
I speak through Istanbul.
Not because it represents everything,
but because it is the place where I learned how history, culture, and daily life meet in a kitchen.
And yes — for me, it remains incomparable.