A Taste of Milk and Honey

Tasting the Simplicity of Bal Kaymak in İstanbul

Recently, I stumbled upon an old journal from about ten years ago and found myself flipping through pages filled with memories from my early days in Turkey. It is a journal from those first years when I was just beginning to fall in love with the country and its culture. One entry in particular stood out: a food memory centered around kaymak. Have you ever tried it?

Kaymak sits somewhere between butter and cream cheese in texture and richness. While this cream is called kaymak in Turkey, it goes by kajmak in the Balkans and eishta or ashta in various parts of the Arab world. If you're looking for a Western comparison, think of something between French crème fraîche and British clotted cream, though even those fall short of capturing its flavor. Whether you’ve tasted it before or are just now hearing about it, I’d love to take you on a little stroll down memory lane.

In May 2013, nearly 14 hours after landing in İstanbul and settling into my hotel in Beşiktaş, on the European side of the city, I woke to the familiar chaos of honking taxis and the mingled scent of cigarette smoke and freshly baked bread wafting up through my room window.

I had just graduated from Boston University and chose to stay on a little longer at BU, enrolling in their food studies master’s program. That summer held both a sense of accomplishment and quiet anticipation. I was returning to Istanbul, a city I already knew and loved, for the third time, this time for six weeks of volunteering with English language workshops and refugee care. But it was more than just another trip. It felt as if the city had opened itself to me, inviting me into a season of self-discovery, one filled with hope and the quiet sense that something within me was beginning to shift.

Without hesitation, we woke up and immediately made our way straight to the Beşiktaş town center—çarşı in Turkish—where the legendary Pando’s kaymak shop, Beşiktaş Kaymakçı, once stood. Humble and inviting, with its charming blue window sills and unassuming storefront, it welcomed crowds with a quiet magic.

We sat at a small, rickety table just outside the shop, positioned in front of the store window. All around us swirled the beautiful chaos of the Beşiktaş çarşı, vendors shouting, traffic rumbling, people talking. And yet, in the middle of it all, I was overwhelmed by the quiet certainty that I was exactly where I was meant to be.

Once situated at our table, simple metal plates of thick buffalo milk kaymak were served swiftly alongside generous drizzles of honey and baskets of crusty bread cycled endlessly through the tables. This was where I had my very first taste of kaymak and it ruined me, in the best way, for all other versions. Though Pando’s shop sadly closed its doors in 2014, the memory of that honey-soaked kaymak lingers.

While nothing has quite matched that first unforgettable experience at Pando’s, you can still find excellent kaymak in Istanbul today. Shops like Karaköy Özsüt uphold the tradition with their rich versions and many other breakfast spots across the city offer solid renditions.

Like many foods with roots in the Middle East and Central Asia, the origins of kaymak are difficult to trace. Boiling milk is a widespread practice across the globe, making it hard to determine exactly where or when this rich cream first emerged.

What we do know is that making kaymak is a slow and deliberate process. Made with full-fat milk, the process begins by slowly boiling the milk and then leaving it to simmer over low heat for several hours. As it simmers, a layer of cream gradually rises to the surface. After the pot is removed from the heat, this layer is carefully skimmed off and allowed to cool and thicken. Depending on regional customs, the cream may rest for a few hours or several days. What you get is a thick, silky cream that’s high in milk fat and full of flavor.

Once set, the delicate layers are often rolled into soft logs, ready to be spread on toast, pancakes or pastries. When served with honey—bal in Turkish—the pairing, known as bal kaymak, evokes the same imagery and promise of sweetness as the phrase “milk and honey” does in English.

A Turkish breakfast (pictured above) with kaymak on the table is already destined to be something special but my favorite way to enjoy kaymak is generously dolloped over a warm, syrup-soaked serving of künefe. That, or tucked into a soft, chewy piece of pistachio Turkish Delight—lokum in Turkish—either way, you can’t go wrong.

I've seen it stocked at specialty Middle Eastern stores in the U.S., sometimes tucked away in the dairy case or frozen in the back freezers. If you're lucky enough to get your hands on some, be sure to use it within a few days after opening the package because it spoils quickly and loses its distinctive character if left too long.

Publication: May 2025, Issue #18