There are many wonderful Turkish restaurants in London. There’s FM Mangal holding down the juicy meat-bread scene in Camberwell, Gokyuzu doing serious mixed grill business on Green Lanes and Durak Tantuni shifting heroic beef wraps on West Green Road. And that’s just the tip of the pide.
Tarama is whipped into a fluffy frenzy
Styled as a ‘meyhane’ - the raki-soaked Turkish equivalent of a provincial British gastropub with good food, good drinks, and the strong likelihood of banter - Kismet is the latest in a long line of impressive residencies upstairs at Borough Market’s Globe pub. Deftly, it bridges the gap between London’s old school Turkish institutions and the chichi Euro small-plates scene. Which makes sense, as it’s run by Dom Hamdy of the Bistro Freddie and Crispin coterie of restaurants alongside former Bibi and Harwood Arms chef Keiran Mustafa, who was recently cooking at nearby Oma, the UK's first Michelin-starred Greek restaurant. If you want, you can gaze directly into Oma through the first floor balconies of Kismet, extremely handy if you’re plotting a tarama-slathered remake of Rear Window.
So what does Kismet do differently from the rest of the London Turkish cohort? Well, not much, but that’s a good thing. If anything, the menu leans more Cypriot than most mangals (Mustafa’s family moved here from Cyprus in 1964 and the year is imprinted on neat branded plates) with fresh and herby, Levantine flavours and a little less bready stuff (the brimming basket of fluffy and oil-brushed ekmek aside). The room, which was previously home to Cambodian concept Barang and fiery Thai takeover Khao Bird, feels more like a proper restaurant than ever before. Its bare brick walls now covered with sepia family photos while vintage lace cafe curtains bring a proper nanna’s living room energy to the place.
The set menu (£48 a head) seems to be the best and easiest way to go. It does however come with constant warnings not to fill up too early, and to definitely not add anything extra. It’s the opposite of upselling and we’re here for it.
First, a bonanza of dips, and much like at Oma, this is where the place really impresses. Tarama is whipped into a light and fluffy frenzy, cacık is tangy and fresh, and strained yogurt atom is slit down the middle with a slasher flick worthy slit of chilli oil. Then a quirky little veg plate arrives, staged like a meal for someone in a Swiss detox camp; melon, radish, crisp cucumber wedges and olives. On its own? Nightmare fuel. As a counter to the creamy dips? Bliss. There are oily sliced runner beans too. And, of course, bouncy bread to mop it all up with. Resist the temptation to order more, even if the dip to bread ratio seems insane.
Meanwhile, plates have been stacking up on the tables like complaints against Thames Water. ’This is where it gets difficult,’ says our server, against the odds a master of table Tetris. He lowers down a flawless wedge of honey and thyme-soaked hellim, that’s soft in the middle but crisp on the edges and, presumably, the first dish given to you as you enter Valhalla. Then comes some just-garlicky-enough and just-wet-enough wilted chard, dolloped with yogurt and chilli butter. Then, if you weren't already fit to bursting, it’s time for the main event of mangal-cooked meats. The lamb and beef kofte and chicken sis are good, but no better (or worse) than your average Green Lanes grillhouse. But what does slap are fried Cypriot potatoes; chip-shaped roasties so darkly golden they must have been cooked at least four times (take that, Heston).
Turkish tea and a cube of flaky pistachio baklava hit the spot for pudding. We’ll be back, but we have to finish our bulging doggy bag first.
The vibe A classy top-floor pub takeover.
The food Turkish-Cypriot classics including serious dips and honey-drenched cheese.
The drink Off the booze? Score an Uludağ Gazoz fruit soda. If not, there’s good Turkish wine by the glass or bottle.
Time Out tip The £48 set menu is an epic offering. Make sure you bag up and take the leftovers home - you won’t be the only ones.