For the Sake of Their Kids Education: Iznik

This article is one of the six profiles I have written about Turkish restaurant owners in New York and London. All of these articles came together for my senior thesis which looked at how food eaten in a particular culture is influenced by nationality, geography and politics. Food grounds people in a culture, and in a foreign country that is one of the few ways you can feel closer to home. I also made a short documentary that you can watch here.

Since having a stroke in December of 2018, Adem Öner let his wife Pırlanta Öner take the reins of their restaurant Iznik which they opened in 1989. While he is still mostly resting at his home in Islington, he agreed to meet me at his restaurant on the bustling streets of Highbury — right across from Mrs Lovell’s Greengrocer and La Fromagerie. Öner was waiting for me at the back table near the kitchen, his cane next to him. I walked to the back noticing the magenta brick walls that surprisingly worked with the rest of the decoration that included an abundance of mosaic lamps, a photo of Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, portraits of Sultans from the Ottoman Empire, evil eyes and Iznik tiles.

His wife was prepping the kitchen for lunch and Öner eagerly started telling me his story without me asking a question to start with. His life, similar to Öner, was one of hardship. The difference, however, was that while Öner’s life back in Turkey was difficult, Öner’s life in London had proven to be more challenging. He was born in Ordu, the port city on the Black Sea coast of Turkey. He immigrated to the capital, Ankara, when he was 9 because his father was murdered in prison due to a vendetta that he did not go into detail as tears started streaming down his face. His mom, scared that they could be next decided it would be the safest idea to go to the capital and stay with family. He stayed in Ankara for 25 years, studied economy and finance and worked at the General Directorate of Highways in Ankara. He met his wife, Pırlanta, at an engagement party.

“She decided to stay even though she had an exam the next day,” he said, smiling. “I was a little drunk… it was at first sight. In a couple days I introduced her to my family. We have been married for 48 years.”

They were happy. Öner was getting paid a respectable amount and his wife, who could not work in Turkey because she was a Cypriot, was finishing her degree in math. However, after a while his mother started treating Öner’s wife badly. He told me with some sadness in his voice that although his mother was an amazing person, after he got married, she turned into a different person. He described her behavior as “​tatsız​,” without flavor or tasteless. His father-in-law decided that the best solution would be to move abroad, so they sold everything they had in Turkey. He recalls that they arrived in London with 300 pounds and that it was a difficult journey with their 10-month old son. They arrived as tourists and sought solace in their family members who lived here.

“We believed that my sister-in-law — she graduated from pharmaceutics — being here would decrease our homesickness and help us adjust to this new place.”

However conditions were rough. Although he was a college graduate, he needed to work at very low-paying jobs and worked illegally in the beginning. He told me that it was extremely jarring — the fear of getting caught was a daily worry. He always believed that with language classes and some luck he would get to stay, saying “​Kervan yolda düzülür”​ which is an idiom that means you can face things as they come first as Öner was scammed. While he thought he was applying for a visa, his money was taken, the government learned about his status and he was deported. Through connections in Turkey, he was appointed to the Turkish Embassy in London and he finally had “immunity,” as he puts it. He tells me how he did not have to follow traffic rules because he had a diplomatic license plate — he quickly tells me that he always abides by them but if he wanted to break them, he could. Things were looking up for Öner, his two sons were going to private school at Highgate and his wife was working in a sewing factory.

Iznik used to be a greasy spoon that Öner tells me people would not walk past by — they would cross the street. The place was on sale by an Italian man that he describes as “sticky, unreliable, fraudulent and slippery like soap.” They bought it because it was in horrible condition but cheap. The reason they opened a restaurant was so they could afford living in London and make sure their kids get the good education they deserve. He started out by serving British fare but the people living around the neighborhood pushed him to serve Turkish food.

“A lady came to the restaurant after we opened Iznik and saw me eat chickpeas and beans. She ordered the same thing with a whole onion on the side and asked me why we were not serving these.”

So they switched the menu to traditional Turkish food. They call the restaurant Iznik because “it is a very important location both for our culture and Christian culture.” One of his dreams after opening up the restaurant was to host one of the Sabancı’s, a very prominent and rooted family in Turkey, and feed them ​mantı. His dream became a reality when Şevket Sabancı, his wife Hayırlı Sabancı and his friends came for a meal one day. He served them mantı, which was a brave choice because the family is from the mantı​ capital of Turkey, Kayseri.

“Şevket Sabancı’s wife was astonished,” he recalled with pride. “She told me that she never had a mantı this good in her life. I also served them a fig dessert that I boiled, stuffed with walnuts, sugar and cinnamon, topped with cream and baked. We asked Hatıra Sabancı if she wanted dessert and I recall her saying ‘That is out of question, I have no room for dessert.’ But after she tasted the dessert, she bit her lips and said ‘My goodness, this is so wonderful’ and that is the story of how I hosted the Sabancıs.”

After he got a liquor license, the restaurant became very popular especially among foreigners — Öner tells me that Turks rarely come to this restaurant. While after his stroke, business has been a little slow, he is confident that things will start to pick up again. When I ask him if it was all worth it, I notice tears streaming down his face again. It is clear how difficult it has been for Öner and his family to leave their country and start a new life in London. No matter how much time passes, the longing he has for Turkey stings the same.