"Great restaurants are, of course, nothing but mouth-brothels. There is no point in going to them if one intends to keep one's belt buckled." ~Frederic Raphael
The ever-helpful lonely planet Turkey includes Dubb in its list of places to eat – for Indian food. I love Indian food, and during my week in Istanbul I was loving Turkish food just as much if not more. But once I noticed the quaint house with the sign "dubb" a few steps from the front door of my hotel, a visit was inevitable.
I was not disappointed and, in fact, I was thrilled about the restaurant – ecstatic for someone else – anyone else - to try it.
Succulent. Sensuous. Shabby chic in the trendiest of ways.
Upon entering the converted house – Ottoman style, late 18th century – I was immediately transported to central North Carolina and the smattering of delightful restaurants available in the Triangle region that I used to frequent with my former beau. Charming and quaint would be insults, not nearly capturing the elegant shabby chic of the establishment. The lighting was perfect – low and romantic – and the eatery was spic-span-clean – even the floorboards were immaculate (trust me, I checked). The only potential problem was that the place was empty. I decided to trust the lonely planet, my instincts, and the maitre d who met me out front and ushered me in.
The tables were set and garnished with a natural, berry-like flower that the waiter could not identify, but thought looked nice for the tables - delightful in its simplicity. I had a table by the window, looking out on the small, cobblestone Sutanahmet street – it was picture perfect. The only noises were the sounds from the kitchen and soft, melodious ballads and Bollywood songs which wafted from the sound system. Neither was ostentatious or obtrusive and both succinctly matched the ambiance of the restaurant.
For those of you who believe the adage cleanliness is next to godliness, you will not be disappointed. I went to the ladies room, which was also utterly spotless and just as engaging as the rest of the house. The lighting was also dim, so one is not sent into sensory overload simply by moving from the dining room into the loo and back.
I implored the waiter -Bulent Cin - about the lonesome loveliness of the establishment, and he assured me that there were two branches of the restaurant, one up on the hill by the Aya Sofya and this one. He said people usually go to the one at the top of the hill and miss out on the experience of this one at the bottom. He was pleasant in demeanor, and knew the answers to whatever I asked about the owner, the food, and establishment. The eatery on the hill, it turns out, is the locale recommended by my trusty guidebook. To be sure, Dubb Indian Restaurant is located near the Aya Sofya and was the first branch. The Dubb Ethnic Restaurant that I stumbled into, it's warm lights luring me in, was recently opened in July, and specializes in a broader variety of Asian foods, including Indian. Yummy Indian.
My waiter suggested either the Butter Chicken or the Gosht Dahiwali. I went for the lamb. When my food arrived, I was further appeased. The naan looked delicious covered in melting butter. Upon imbibing, I was further satiated by its ideal texture and taste.
My meal was an eternity of epicurean ecstasy. The lamb was served at the perfect temperature, had a divine, tender texture, and exuded the ideal amount of heat. My mouth was on fire – in the good way. It was one of the best upscale Indian meals I have had in years. People have to know and people have to eat here. I began grilling the waiter. I liked what he told me.
Then he offered me masala chai. I was sold.
Mehmet Aras owns both restaurants, and he is formally known as Aras Group. The restaurant has two floors, is cozy in the winter, and touts terrace seating in the summer. The chef on deck is Baldev Singhthakur - I was properly satisfied that he is indeed Indian. There is no pretense to the place and no televisions - voila.
The true test of the establishment came a couple of nights later, when Mairin wanted to try Dubb based on my chatter. I too was curious if it could taste just as good a second around. Had I drunk too much wine the other afternoon before I ate there, disillusioned that the food could taste that good?
As we walked down to the restaurant, she mentioned that there were people in the restaurant. "Oh good," I exclaimed, happy that others could experience the joy of eating excellent Indian food in the Turkish city.
We walked into the restaurant, and I was a little unsure. The lighting seemed a bit brighter. There were many people there - upstairs and down. The kind waiter, Bulent, told us there was a group there that evening. They were Indian and they were eating and they looked happy - this is good, I thought.
While we were waiting for our food, I heard the word "Jumeira" come from one of the tables. Bulent told us they were a tour group - all Indians - who would eat at the restaurant every night for the next three nights. That's a pretty sweet deal. We asked where they were traveling from.
"They are also from Dubai, like you." We couldn't help but laugh.
Children ran up and down the stairs. I could not figure out if the place was appropriate for large groups. My first inclination was no. More appropriate for couples and small groups. Yet, the assembly was having such a great time. The adults had finished their entire meals - an excellent sign, and the restaurant is in a converted house - it must have felt just like home. I changed my mind - perhaps it is great for all sizes - just right.
Our food came. The tour group left. The staff closed the front door, eliminating any hints of cold air that inadvertently wafted in. They dimmed the lights - they were now the level and warmth I remembered. The staff restored the music to the appropriate level, and moved the tables and chairs back to their rightful places. My coworker, who was not hungry when we entered, began eating her meal - Butter Chicken - and indulged in the naan I had ordered. We were still in Istanbul and still on vacation - why not? She loved it. She devoured it all, as I did my Gosht Dahiwali. It was just as good as the first time - and on a busy night to boot. The restaurant's seduction was not an illusion.
There is a tendency for me to hold my breath after making a recommendation. Who knows if the other party will find the divine in all that I am praising.
Mairin complemented all of the things I had - the table garnish, the light fixture in the bathroom, the decor, and of course the food. I was happy for the affirmation. We soon asked for the check.
"Oh, I just ordered your chai," said our gracious maitre d.
"Oh, thank you!" I exclaimed. "I forgot about the masala chai," I said to Mairin. "I am so glad he remembered!"
We had our tea. I gushed a little more about the restaurant, as I do when I find a gem. I had taken copious notes the night before. Turkish food is heavenly. I felt that with six days in Istanbul, I could afford to eat a little Indian food here and there - especially if it was good - and hopefully others will too. According to the adjectives in my notes, it is more than good: Superb. Perfect. Divine. Perfect. Handmade. Delightful. Exquisite. Amazing. Perfect. Fresh. Trendy. Lovely. CLEAN. Lovely. Gracious.
Eat at Dubb.
The ever-helpful lonely planet Turkey includes Dubb in its list of places to eat – for Indian food. I love Indian food, and during my week in Istanbul I was loving Turkish food just as much if not more. But once I noticed the quaint house with the sign "dubb" a few steps from the front door of my hotel, a visit was inevitable.
I was not disappointed and, in fact, I was thrilled about the restaurant – ecstatic for someone else – anyone else - to try it.
Succulent. Sensuous. Shabby chic in the trendiest of ways.
Upon entering the converted house – Ottoman style, late 18th century – I was immediately transported to central North Carolina and the smattering of delightful restaurants available in the Triangle region that I used to frequent with my former beau. Charming and quaint would be insults, not nearly capturing the elegant shabby chic of the establishment. The lighting was perfect – low and romantic – and the eatery was spic-span-clean – even the floorboards were immaculate (trust me, I checked). The only potential problem was that the place was empty. I decided to trust the lonely planet, my instincts, and the maitre d who met me out front and ushered me in.
The tables were set and garnished with a natural, berry-like flower that the waiter could not identify, but thought looked nice for the tables - delightful in its simplicity. I had a table by the window, looking out on the small, cobblestone Sutanahmet street – it was picture perfect. The only noises were the sounds from the kitchen and soft, melodious ballads and Bollywood songs which wafted from the sound system. Neither was ostentatious or obtrusive and both succinctly matched the ambiance of the restaurant.
For those of you who believe the adage cleanliness is next to godliness, you will not be disappointed. I went to the ladies room, which was also utterly spotless and just as engaging as the rest of the house. The lighting was also dim, so one is not sent into sensory overload simply by moving from the dining room into the loo and back.
I implored the waiter -Bulent Cin - about the lonesome loveliness of the establishment, and he assured me that there were two branches of the restaurant, one up on the hill by the Aya Sofya and this one. He said people usually go to the one at the top of the hill and miss out on the experience of this one at the bottom. He was pleasant in demeanor, and knew the answers to whatever I asked about the owner, the food, and establishment. The eatery on the hill, it turns out, is the locale recommended by my trusty guidebook. To be sure, Dubb Indian Restaurant is located near the Aya Sofya and was the first branch. The Dubb Ethnic Restaurant that I stumbled into, it's warm lights luring me in, was recently opened in July, and specializes in a broader variety of Asian foods, including Indian. Yummy Indian.
My waiter suggested either the Butter Chicken or the Gosht Dahiwali. I went for the lamb. When my food arrived, I was further appeased. The naan looked delicious covered in melting butter. Upon imbibing, I was further satiated by its ideal texture and taste.
My meal was an eternity of epicurean ecstasy. The lamb was served at the perfect temperature, had a divine, tender texture, and exuded the ideal amount of heat. My mouth was on fire – in the good way. It was one of the best upscale Indian meals I have had in years. People have to know and people have to eat here. I began grilling the waiter. I liked what he told me.
Then he offered me masala chai. I was sold.
Mehmet Aras owns both restaurants, and he is formally known as Aras Group. The restaurant has two floors, is cozy in the winter, and touts terrace seating in the summer. The chef on deck is Baldev Singhthakur - I was properly satisfied that he is indeed Indian. There is no pretense to the place and no televisions - voila.
The true test of the establishment came a couple of nights later, when Mairin wanted to try Dubb based on my chatter. I too was curious if it could taste just as good a second around. Had I drunk too much wine the other afternoon before I ate there, disillusioned that the food could taste that good?
As we walked down to the restaurant, she mentioned that there were people in the restaurant. "Oh good," I exclaimed, happy that others could experience the joy of eating excellent Indian food in the Turkish city.
We walked into the restaurant, and I was a little unsure. The lighting seemed a bit brighter. There were many people there - upstairs and down. The kind waiter, Bulent, told us there was a group there that evening. They were Indian and they were eating and they looked happy - this is good, I thought.
While we were waiting for our food, I heard the word "Jumeira" come from one of the tables. Bulent told us they were a tour group - all Indians - who would eat at the restaurant every night for the next three nights. That's a pretty sweet deal. We asked where they were traveling from.
"They are also from Dubai, like you." We couldn't help but laugh.
Children ran up and down the stairs. I could not figure out if the place was appropriate for large groups. My first inclination was no. More appropriate for couples and small groups. Yet, the assembly was having such a great time. The adults had finished their entire meals - an excellent sign, and the restaurant is in a converted house - it must have felt just like home. I changed my mind - perhaps it is great for all sizes - just right.
Our food came. The tour group left. The staff closed the front door, eliminating any hints of cold air that inadvertently wafted in. They dimmed the lights - they were now the level and warmth I remembered. The staff restored the music to the appropriate level, and moved the tables and chairs back to their rightful places. My coworker, who was not hungry when we entered, began eating her meal - Butter Chicken - and indulged in the naan I had ordered. We were still in Istanbul and still on vacation - why not? She loved it. She devoured it all, as I did my Gosht Dahiwali. It was just as good as the first time - and on a busy night to boot. The restaurant's seduction was not an illusion.
There is a tendency for me to hold my breath after making a recommendation. Who knows if the other party will find the divine in all that I am praising.
Mairin complemented all of the things I had - the table garnish, the light fixture in the bathroom, the decor, and of course the food. I was happy for the affirmation. We soon asked for the check.
"Oh, I just ordered your chai," said our gracious maitre d.
"Oh, thank you!" I exclaimed. "I forgot about the masala chai," I said to Mairin. "I am so glad he remembered!"
We had our tea. I gushed a little more about the restaurant, as I do when I find a gem. I had taken copious notes the night before. Turkish food is heavenly. I felt that with six days in Istanbul, I could afford to eat a little Indian food here and there - especially if it was good - and hopefully others will too. According to the adjectives in my notes, it is more than good: Superb. Perfect. Divine. Perfect. Handmade. Delightful. Exquisite. Amazing. Perfect. Fresh. Trendy. Lovely. CLEAN. Lovely. Gracious.
Eat at Dubb.
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