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Hey there, it’s Alice! I’ve been eating my way through Kusadasi and its neighbours for years, and let me tell you, the flavours here are a traveller’s jackpot. One bite of flaky borek by the marina, or a sip of raki with the sea breeze, and I’m hooked all over again. This isn’t just a list – it’s my love letter to the dishes, sweets, and drinks you’ve got to taste in 2025. From Kusadasi’s bustling stalls to Selcuk’s quiet corners, Izmir’s city hum, and Sirince’s quirky charm, I’ve scoured every spot to bring you the good stuff. Grab a napkin, because this is going to be a feast 🙂
Savoury Stars You’ll Crave
Pide: Think Turkish pizza with a Kusadasi twist. I stumbled into a lokanta near the bazaar once, starving after a day at Pigeon Island, and this boat-shaped beauty came out—crisp edges, bubbling cheese, maybe some spiced beef. It’s simple, but every bite sings. You’ll find it everywhere, though the hole-in-the-wall spots beat the tourist traps hands down.
Kofte: These meatballs are my weakness. Juicy, grilled, and spiced just right, I’ve had them at a little joint off Ataturk Boulevard where the owner winked and said it’s his grandma’s recipe. Pair it with bread and a tomato dip—I’m still dreaming about that plate.
Seafood (Octopus, Calamari, Fish): Living by the coast spoils you. I’ve sat at a rickety table near the harbour, tearing into grilled octopus so tender it fell apart, or calamari fried crisp with a squeeze of lemon. Fresh fish—sea bass or bream—comes straight off the boats. One night, I watched the fisherman unload while I ate his catch. Unreal.
Borek: Flaky pastry stuffed with cheese or spinach is my morning fix. I’ve grabbed it hot from a bakery near the Friday market, layers peeling apart like a gift. It’s light but fills you up—perfect for a day wandering Ephesus.
Dolma: Stuffed peppers or vine leaves are pure comfort. I had my first plate at a Selcuk stall, rice and meat tucked inside, drizzled with yogurt. The lady smiled as I fumbled with my fork—she knew I’d be back. I was.
Menemen: Scrambled eggs with tomatoes and peppers stole my breakfast heart. I’ve had it at a seaside cafe in Kusadasi, served in a sizzling pan with crusty bread to scoop. Spicy or mild, it’s a wake-up call I crave.
Cig Kofte: Raw meatballs with a kick—sounds wild, right? I tried it at an Izmir street stand, spicy bulgur and herbs rolled tight. The vendor laughed when my eyes watered, but I went back for seconds. Bold and worth it.
Manti: Tiny dumplings swimming in yogurt and garlic are a hug on a plate. I found them at a quiet spot in Selcuk, drizzled with chili oil. It’s a mess to eat, but I’d lick the spoon clean every time.
Simit: These sesame-crusted rings are my grab-and-go. I’ve snagged them from carts near the Kusadasi otogar, still warm, and munched while waiting for a dolmus. Cheap, chewy, and everywhere.
Lahmacun: Thin flatbread topped with spicy meat—I grabbed one at Izmir’s Kemeralti bazaar, rolled it up with parsley, and ate it walking. It’s messy, fast, and so good I’ve burned my tongue rushing in.
Sweet Bites That Linger
Baklava: Layers of nuts and syrup that melt in your mouth—I had my best slice at a Kusadasi patisserie near the marina. The crunch, the sweetness, the way it sticks to your fingers? Heaven. Every spot does it a little different, so chase your favorite.
Lokum: Turkish delight isn’t just candy—it’s a moment. I tasted rosewater-dusted cubes fresh from an Izmir shop, soft and floral, with a vendor who swore it’s better with tea. He was right. I’ve hauled bags home ever since.
Kunefe: Cheesy, syrupy, and hot—I first tried it in Selcuk after a cold Ephesus day. The stringy cheese under crispy shreds hit me like a warm blanket. I’ve hunted it down ever since, especially at seaside spots.
Dondurma: Stretchy ice cream is a street show. I watched a guy in Kusadasi twirl it on a stick, teasing me before I got a bite—creamy, a little chewy, and perfect on a summer day. Go for pistachio or vanilla.
Sutlac: Rice pudding sounds simple, but here it’s magic. I had it baked with a caramel top at a tiny Izmir lokanta, warm and smooth. It’s my cozy pick when the evenings cool off.
Katmer: Flaky pastry with cream or pistachios—I found this gem in a Kusadasi backstreet. One bite, crisp and rich, and I was plotting my next visit. It’s a sleeper hit you won’t see coming.
Revani: Syrup-soaked cake surprised me at a Sirince cafe. Light, lemony, and just sweet enough—I ate it with a view of the village hills, wishing I’d ordered two. Locals love it, and now I get why.
Asure: This pudding’s a wild mix—grains, nuts, fruit—and a story. I tried it in Izmir during a festival, served with a tale of Noah’s ark. Sweet, hearty, and odd in the best way.
Tulumba: Fried dough nuggets drenched in syrup—I nabbed a handful at the Kusadasi bazaar. Crunchy outside, soft inside, they’re messy and addictive. I’ve stained shirts for these.
Kemal Pasha: A cheesy dessert twist caught me off guard in Selcuk. Little dough balls soaked in syrup, served warm – I ate them giggling at how weirdly good they were. Quirky and a must.
Must Try Drinks
Cay: Tea’s the heartbeat here. I sip it everywhere! Lokantas, markets, even dolmus stops—in little glasses that keep coming. My trick? Pair it with simit for the full local feel.
Turkish Coffee: Thick, bold, and gritty—I had my first cup in Kusadasi, then flipped it for a fortune reading that made me laugh. It’s a ritual, not just a drink. Go strong or go home.
Ayran: Yogurt mixed with water sounds basic, but it’s my summer savior. I’ve chugged it with kofte at a seaside spot, cool and salty. Keeps you going when the sun’s brutal.
Raki: This anise spirit pairs with seafood like a dream. I drank it one night by the Kusadasi shore, fish on the table, the bite cutting through the breeze. Water it down and watch it cloud up—magic.
Salep: Warm, milky, and dusted with cinnamon—I hunted this down in Izmir on a chilly day. Made from orchid roots, it’s like drinking a hug. Winter’s when it shines.
Boza: Fermented grain with a funky tang—I tried it in Selcuk, sprinkled with cinnamon. Weird at first, but I kept sipping. It’s old-school and rare, so grab it if you spot it.
Sirince Fruit Wines: Sirince’s quirky wines stole my heart. I tasted cherry and pomegranate pours at a hillside shop, sweet and strong. Locals swear by them, and I’m sold.
Limonata: Fresh lemonade is my beachside pick. I’ve had it squeezed on the spot in Kusadasi, tart and icy – nothing beats it when the heat kicks in.
Nar Suyu: Pomegranate juice pops at markets. I grabbed a cup in Izmir’s Kemeralti, deep red and zingy. It’s a quick hit that feels like a treat.
Where to Find the Best
Kusadasi’s got it all—lokantas near the bazaar for pide and manti, fish shacks by the marina for octopus, sweet stalls for baklava and tulumba. Selcuk’s markets dish up borek and dolma, with kunefe at quiet cafes. Izmir’s Kemeralti is a maze of lahmacun, cig kofte, and lokum, while seaside joints pour ayran and raki. Sirince shines with fruit wines and revani from village spots. My tips? Haggle at bazaars for sweets, ask locals where they eat, and skip the glossy tourist menus – real flavour hides in the backstreets.
Why This Tastes Like Turkey?
These bites and sips are Kusadasi’s soul – the sea in every fish, history in every spice, warmth in every cup. I’ve eaten my way through markets and waterfronts, and it’s the mix of old recipes and fresh catches that keeps me coming back. This is Turkey on a plate, in a glass, and you’ve got to taste it all. Enjoy!
Last updated on February 25, 2025
