PIDE USTA VS. OUR STOMACHS

(the man and wood-burning stove -- where all good things come from--behind our devilish lunch and a closeup of the pide, sprinkled liberally with chili flakes -- I wouldn't dare eat a pizza item without a lot of fire, condiment fiend that I am)

After getting an early start to our day of gallery-hopping in Beyoglu, we decided to duck into Pera Sisore for pide (Turkish pizza) and some stewed vegetables. D had read about the place that served traditional foods from the Black Sea coast . . . a restaurant that looks typical from the outside (a few commonly found buffet items -- spinach, potatoes, beans) but had us mystified and making funny animal sounds of pleasure (maybe you had to be there) within moments . . .

The Usta ("master" in Turkish) won us over with his flavorful pide (and his cute mustache/grin) -- he pummeled us! He sucker-punched us with tastiness! Something so simple as dough and cheese can elude so many -- but in our quest for all that is cheesey/doughy/sinful, we met our holy grail. This was THE BEST! The cheese mellow, but full of body and the dough -- a simultaneously crunchy and soft slice of carb heaven. We were stunned. I'm still stunned, and full, 8 hours later.