In search of a Turkish dish that feels like home

On a trip to Artvin, Turkey, in the Black Sea region tucked on the edge of the Kackar Mountains in the summer of 2018, reporter Fariba Nawa shared a breakfast with her daughters that stayed with them for years: mıhlama.

They lodged in a wooden cabin inn across a river in the summer of 2018 — in the damp summer heat cooled by pouring rains.

The mıhlama they devoured was a cheesy, buttery fondue-like delicacy cooked on high heat and consumed with fresh bread — the ultimate comfort food. It gave them the energy to hike the nearby verdant hills, swim under waterfalls and canoe in the lakes.

Since then, the trio have spent the past eight years trying to find that specific dish, searching far and wide across Turkey.

Fariba was born in Afghanistan, and her two daughters — Bonoo Azizian, 17, and Andisha Azizian, 14 — were born in the US. They moved to Turkey 10 years ago. The girls are multilingual, speaking Farsi, English and Turkish, but as outsiders, it’s been hard for them to integrate in Turkey. So, food has been one way to connect with Turkish culture. For them, mıhlama’s warmth tasted like acceptance.

“It has great oozing properties,” said Aylin Oney Tan, a Turkish food expert and podcaster. “So technically, we’re talking about a cheese, a semi-aged mozzarella maybe, something that can be very oozy when heated.”

According to Oney Tan, people in the Black Sea don’t only have it in the morning. 

“For breakfast, it’s an easy preparation but it could be a fill-your-belly kind of thing in the afternoon [at] tea time,” she explained. Strong, fragrant black tea brewed in a samovar-style double decker kettle is a staple of nearly every home in Turkey.

On one recent Sunday morning, Fariba and her daughters went on a mission to search for the best mıhlama in their Istanbul neighborhood on the Asian side of the city.

Mıhlama is not a common dish served in restaurants outside the Black Sea region, though. Turkish breakfast with a dozen small plates of cheeses, olives, jams, eggs and spreads is a global favorite, but mıhlama, also known as kuymak, is a rare find. Instead of searching the internet, they tried the old-school method of canvassing their neighborhood, asking the residents if they had a favorite place.

“I don’t actually know exactly what it is but I know it tastes good,” said Andisha, who was very young when she first tried it, as they walked toward a bakery with mıhlama on their menu. “Turkish breakfast is one of the best things about Turkey.”

“I like how it’s cheesy and it stretches. It’s like a grilled cheese sandwich with just the grilled cheese,” Bonoo recalled from when she was 10. “It’s so bad for you, it’s perfect.”

Their first attempt was disappointing. The corner where the bakery used to be now had a cafe with pastel furniture that served matcha and various types of coffee — a sign of the neighborhood gentrifying. Hip coffee places don’t make mıhlama at all, but  traditional, regional Turkish eateries do. 

Nearby, a man dug a dead fish out of a garbage bin, a symbol of increasing poverty in an ailing economy.

They didn’t find anything within walking distance or any recommendations from the older population, so they eventually hopped online and then into a cab.

The restaurant, 15 minutes away, had Black Sea decor with wooden tables and chairs, and panels on its ceiling, a promising sign, with the scent of butter lingering inside.

“This place looks really cool,” Andisha said. “I’m so excited.”

They ordered the classic mıhlama with olive oil instead of butter and one with beef.

As their food was prepared, Fariba joined the chef, Necda Aktas, in the kitchen to watch her cook. Aktas turned on the gas stove to high heat, grabbed a small pan, placed it on the heat, then poured a ladle of butter. She added cornflour, a cup of water, liquified cheese and a pinch of salt. She stirred the entire time but it was ready within minutes. 

“Just like that,” Aktas said.

The eatery, which has been open for 10 years, also serves other cuisines from the Black Sea, like beans, rice and cornbread. There’s a reason why mıhlama is specific to the Black Sea. 

“The Black Sea region is quite damp, rainy and quite hilly, as well,” Turkish food expert Oney Tan explained. “It’s not a region that’s suitable for wheat cultivation. So, when corn made its way to Anatolia, they adapted corn in a way wholeheartedly because it was one of the staple foods that they could grow easily.”

Fariba asked her daughters if the dish was as good as the one they had at the Black Sea.

“Almost,” Bonoo said.

“Wow, that’s a lot of calories,” Andisha added. “It’s good.”

The following month, Oney Tan invited Fariba to a cheese tasting event at the Swiss Hotel on the European side of Istanbul across the Bosphorus Strait. At the event, the family found fondue and fancy cheeses but not mıhlama.

“Most of the time, local foods are best in their local area,” said Ozge Samanci, who teaches gastronomy at Ozyegin University in Istanbul. They met Samanci at the event. “Maybe we can find some examples of the best mıhlama [in people’s] homes, not outside in Istanbul.” 

Disappointed, but not deterred, the trio decided that they must continue their search for the best mıhlama — a special dish binding them to a special place.