Ivan Lende has a very disparate relationship with Turkey for very personal reasons. On the one hand, there is the anger that decades ago one ugly built up one’s favorite anchorage in the Gulf of Gülük (north of Bodrum) with holiday honeycombs, which makes a romantic overnight stay with a campfire there completely impossible.
On the other hand, there is this wonderful, indelible memory of an evening in Istanbul a good two dozen years ago, when a taxi driver took a loin loin to a restaurant somewhere in the city and three hours later, ten starters, three main courses and two desserts was picked up. Never again has loin dined more deliciously.
So when Lende marches with friends to the Myra restaurant on Thalkirchner Strasse to check his positive prejudices about Turkish cuisine, the bar is set high. And one question will remain unanswered during the course of this evening: Why, by the holy bishop of Myra, are there a thousand Greek restaurants in Munich and hardly a handful of Turkish ones? Because what applies from Antalya to the Bosporus on the one hand and from Corfu to Kastellorizon on the other is also proven in Munich: many Greek and Turkish dishes are basically similar.
A lamb fillet skewer is being served here.
(Photo: Catherine Hess)
But when it comes to love and refinement, the cuisine in Asia Minor is usually far ahead. Maybe it’s because the Koran, which has a significant influence on Turkey’s culture of life, dedicated lines like this to controlled enjoyment. “Eat and drink! But don’t be licentious. For he does not love the licentious.” (Surah 7:31).
In any case, after the first round of various cold and warm starters (20.90 euros), there was pure happiness at the table and admiration for all the things that can be conjured up with a bit of puff pastry, yoghurt, spinach and herbs. Special kudos went to Zeytinyagli Enginar, which means stuffed artichoke heart (6.50), once again emphasizing that you could (and maybe should) eat your fill at restaurants like Myra. Incidentally, the fact that these appetizers are almost all labeled as at least vegetarian, but mostly also as vegan, is not because they wanted to follow a trend here, but because the trend here meets an old, proud kitchen culture. That only for the friends of pigeonhole thinking.
Now follows a dramaturgical failure of the Myra kitchen. And in such a way that already now, as an intermediate course, a dish was put on the table that will overshadow everything that follows in terms of deliciousness: It’s called Hatay Cigeri (12.90), which you will find out during the research that the cuisine of Hatay, located near Antakya in southern Turkey, has even been recognized by UNESCO. Lende and his family can only confirm that: It is about (perfectly) roasted diced veal liver on lukewarm humus with butter jus. No more, no less. But a unique culinary experience.
Except for a few ornamental accessories, the interior of the Myra is dimly unadorned.
(Photo: Catherine Hess)
Ali Nazik, for example, has a hard time keeping up, not least because the veal strips fried in butter with pointed peppers on wonderfully smooth aubergine yoghurt are not quite as tender (19.90). Or the Hamsi Tavar anchovies, nicely draped in a circle: everything is perfect, but only fried fish (16.50). Closest to the highlight came the calamari izgara, which means grilled and also thanks to the absolutely fresh cephalopods (18.50). With the kuzur tandir, the oven-baked lamb, the kitchen avoided the danger that it might have been a little too dry by placing the meat, finely torn, on top of yoghurt, good trick (19.90)!
Actually the yoghurt. Although only a garnish or side dish, it is somehow the center of Turkish cuisine. It dampens any pungency of the spices, but also intensifies the flavor of the mildest of herbs. One knows about its power here in the Myra, but never succumbs to the attempt to overuse it. There is no over-seasoning here, yes, sometimes one would even wish for a little more courage, also with garlic, for example with the braised lamb knuckle Incik Kebab, which was juicy and tender, but could have used more punch (18.90). And why the kitchen didn’t provide a sauce for the wonderfully fluffy rice with the Albanian calf’s liver, which had been fried a few seconds too long, remained a mystery.
The restaurant review “Kostprobe” in the Süddeutsche Zeitung has a long tradition: it has been published weekly in the local section since 1975, and online for a few years now and with a rating scale. About a dozen editors with culinary expertise from all departments – from Munich, science to politics – take turns writing about the city’s gastronomy. The selection is endless, the Bavarian economy is just as important as the Greek fish restaurant, the American fast food chain, the special bratwurst stand or the gourmet restaurant decorated with stars. The special thing about the SZ taster: The authors write under pseudonyms, often with a culinary touch. They go into the restaurant to be tested unnoticed about two or three times, depending on how long the budget given by the editors lasts. Iron basic rules: a grace period of one hundred days for the kitchen of a new restaurant to familiarize itself. And: Never get caught working as a restaurant critic – to be able to describe food and drink, service and atmosphere impartially. SZ
In the event that the sun is shining, the Myra would have a spacious outdoor area covered with an awning facing the heavily trafficked Thalkirchner Straße, which is still popular, often just for half a beer from Hohenthann (very well-kept, 4.20 ) or a glass of Doluka (0.2 liters for 7.20), the quite pleasant everyday wine from Turkey.
The interior is dimly unadorned save for a few ornamental accessories and a massive but rarely used bar. The service works without any hecticness and with discreet friendliness and is not (pseudo) angry if you skip dessert because you are too full. One does not want, see the Koran, to belong to the extravagant. Sometimes there’s a raki, sometimes not.
MyraThalkirchner Strasse 145, 81371 Munich, Telephone: 089/26018484, Opening hours: Monday to Friday 5 p.m. to 1 a.m., Saturday 12 p.m. to 1 a.m., Sunday and public holidays 9 a.m. to 1 a.m.