61out as one of the most cultur-
ally harmonious places in the
country— Britain at its best.
“Having the mangal up front
means we’re not hiding any-
thing,” says Testi’s manager,
Hussain Ezum, of the meat
displayed in a glass counter. “Ev-
eryone can see what we’re doing
and the quality of the meat.” He
points to the grill master, who is
turning over a chicken shish and
rubbing f latbreads over the grill
to soak up the meat juices. “This
food isn’t easy to cook.” Ezum,
just 24 years old, took over the
restaurant from his father a few
years ago. Like many in this part
of London, he is deeply connected
to the neighborhood. “Four res-
taurants in this area are run by
my cousins and uncles—my dad
was the last one of his family tothe Turkish—into narrow glasses,
then added cold water, turning
the drink a cloudy white.
To our right sat a group of
young men of South Asian de-
scent, their beards dark and
trimmed, their heads covered
with white taqiyah skull caps. It
was Ramadan, and the men were
breaking their fast with plump
medjool dates and small glasses
of black tea as we wished them
“Ramadan Mubarak.” There
aren’t many places in the world
where such diverse diners sit
side by side, enjoying the food
rituals of their culture in quite
this way. In a United Kingdom
where attacks on multicultural-
ism have dominated the political
landscape in the three years
since the Brexit referendum,
London’s Little Istanbul standsNew York at an ocakbaşı, or fireside, restaurant called
Testi. Anatolian pop music blared through the speak-
ers as smoke and the smell of searing meat wafted out
from the enormous hooded charcoal grill at the res-
taurant’s entrance. Next to the grill stood a sturdy
middle-aged man, dressed all in white, his thick fin-
gers deftly turning skewers of juicy lamb chops, their
fat sizzling and sputtering onto the hot charcoal.
Next to him, another cook sat threading quartered to-
matoes and long green peppers onto separate metal
skewers before placing them over the f lames to cook
until soft and charred.
Before long, our table groaned with colorful mezze:
crispy zucchini fritters called mücver with dill;
thick yogurt f lecked with grated cucumber and gar-
lic; charred f latbreads smothered in lamb drippings;
grilled white onions bathed in a pomegranate-and-
pickled-turnip-juice dressing; and deep bowls filled
with tarama, a silky spread made with cured fish roe.
A waiter unveiled a bottle of raki—that fiery Eastern
Mediterranean spirit twice-distilled from grapes and
f lavored with anise. We sat silently as he ceremoni-
ously poured the liquor—also known as lion’s milk to
London’s Little Istanbul
stands out as one of the
most culturally harmoni-
ous places in the country—
Britain at its best.