Eat a lot: Datli Maya, Istanbul

'We are searching for the most beautiful ingredients in the whole of Anatolia.' Chef Mini Bashekim of Datli Maya is pouring me a tiny glass of tea, infused with mint that he picked himself, 2000 metres up in the mountains. 'We're collecting old traditions, authentic recipes and amazing stories, and use them to create a new energy.'

Datli Maya is a freshly opened restaurant in the Istanbul neighbourhood of Cihangir-Beyoglu, one of The Guardian's top five places to live in the world. The winding streets full of cute little deli's, cosy cafés and shops heaving with second hand goods. I stumble upon the restaurant by accident. There's a snowstorm raging and I battle my way across the local square when suddenly a door opens. A super enthusiastic girl waves me in. I shuffle past a counter and an enormous oven that seemingly takes up the whole ground floor of the building. I go up the stairs and pass through the kitchen where a bunch of people is cooking. The seats are another floor up, in a cute little space with hotchpotch furniture for 18 people, ranging from red wooden chairs to a comfy bench. The walls sport mosaics and you're allowed to pour your own cups of tea. Relaxed!

It's all about the oven at Datli Maya. For the past eighty years, it's been used to bake simits, the popular ring shaped sesame bread rolls sold by street vendors throughout the city. Now, the sesame seeds have been wiped away and, every morning, the oven is filled with traditional slow food dishes. The oven has a mind of its own: the first few weeks Mini (who's also a club owner and musician) and foodie chef Dilara had to learn how to cook all over again. They also had to learn to be creative with the results: they turned an unrisen cake into cookies - now one of their best selling products in the downstairs shop. In the evening, the oven temperature gets whacked up to accommodate their lahmacunlar, a thick Anatolian pizza with wonderful toppings such as veal and pomegranate. Whatever the time of day, something will be cooking away in what is effectively their only hob.

I try the Anatolian pizza (of course!) topped with goat's cheese and peppers. It costs 3.5 lira (less than €1.50) and looks like a calzone. It tastes a lot better though and I am happy there are no rivers of melted cheese oozing out. It goes perfectly with the yoghurt soup. The desserts, made with molasses rather than sugar, are a joy - slow baked quince and a flourless chocolate cake. Before heading out into the snowy night again, I grab a bag of cookies for the journey. A few days later, when I have left the city and am back home, they fill the 'I miss Turkey' hole in my stomach perfectly.