Breakfast in the U.S. may be more verb than noun: an act of wolfing something formerly frozen in zombie mode amid dawn’s early light, in an obligatory duty to maintain sustenance before a day toiling in the hive.
A proper Turkish breakfast stands at the polar opposite end of the breakfast spectrum, a sizable feast lavishly spread with small, hearty servings meant for one to savor and linger over, in a backhand slap to the concept of rising super early to catch the worm.
You nibble a bit of this. Take a little of that. Mix some of this spread with a corner of that cheese, which you’ll wedge into a hunk of bread as your other hand reaches for a morsel of dried fruit while conversing comfortably with your company. And always, always, there will be plenty of hot black tea and warm bread.
Alchemist Cafe and Restaurant has been open for three years on the corner of Wilshire Boulevard and Crescent Heights in the tiny, Mid-Wilshire-adjacent Carthay neighborhood, a crosstown block away from the Petersen Museum. It currently serves the best Turkish breakfast spread we’ve seen in Los Angeles, Tuesdays through Sundays, regardless of the hour, like an Ottoman Norm’s.
“We just want our customers to feel like they are coming to a part of Istanbul or a part of Turkey,” says co-owner Tin Tin Nyo, born in Burma and raised in California with Turkish heritage. “Like, basically, for Turkish people, they're coming home.”
Alchemist rises at 7 a.m., sunlight saturating its vast, white space through a wall of windows. The space is charming, with comfy brown leather chairs and the occasional multi-faced Buddha, ornate Turkish carafe, ancient key, and woven basket peeking from its nooks. A warm greeting meets you from the wide counter where lattes and muffins are procured.
A traditional, fully functional earthen hearth idles in the corner as some chanteuse’s trance-y cover of The Arctic Monkeys fills the air, and Dodgers highlights and a video of an Istanbul street tour occupy competing corners, their sounds mercifully muted.
Beside the counter stands a pastry case filled with house-baked temptations: sesame-scattered simit bagels sit suspended over a glass plane of Saint Sebastian cheesecake, clay pots of rice pudding with seared skins, soft carrot cake, and cute little cookies with almonds protruding from their bellies.
Alchemist’s menu is similarly filled with savory Turkish delights made pridefully in-house, from manti, menemen, and kofte to the lengthy cigar borek and kebabs of ground lamb.
Staying laser-focused on the hearty Turkish breakfast, we resisted the powerful pull of Basque cheesecake. We soldiered on to our table, $55 lighter after paying at the counter for our breakfast-feast-for-two.
The Turkish breakfast, known as kahvalti, a term translating to “before coffee,” is said to have royal roots. The general legend pins it to the rise of the Ottoman Empire, in which the sultans and their enriched inner circles took leisure in a healthy breakfast composed of the fashionable foods of the day, featuring ingredients that may have been exotic or prized in their day, introduced to them through the reaches of imperialism.
As the Ottoman empire grew, so did the appreciation for different delicacies from its new regions of conquest, broadening and changing the offerings to include nibbles from different parts of the Middle East, Eastern Europe, and Central Asia. Over the ensuing 600 years or so, this morning ritual broke through its class barriers as certain foods considered compulsory now, like the tomatoes or sweet peppers of the Americas, found their way across oceans.
Today, nourishing breakfasts comprising several dishes and varied bites, incorporating small, balanced servings of fruit, seeds, nuts, proteins, cheeses, and bread, are ubiquitous across Turkey, where a bowl of Super Colon Blow or a cold slice of last night’s Little Caesar’s does not cut it.
“The Turkish people love breakfast,” co-owner Ezgi Balaban, whose family owned fine-dining restaurants back in his native Istanbul, agrees, noting that Turkish breakfast is one of the reasons he and Nyo opened Alchemist in the first place. “If you are talking about the lunch, dinner, or breakfast, they always first choose the breakfast. Then, you have to make them FULL. Turkish people love to eat.”
“For Turkish, they come and order Turkish breakfast, even in the evening,” adds Nyo. “If they see a Turkish place, the first thought is, ‘okay, you know, I'm going to have Turkish breakfast here.’ For them, it's not just breakfast. It's everything.”
If you find yourself staying at a fancy Turkish resort, the size of your Turkish breakfast might rival that of a 14th-century sultan’s, so packed with different dishes that no bald spots will be visible on your table.
Many Turkish restaurants in L.A. serve some kahvalti meal of their own, though typically without much sense of the impressive preparation or ceremony necessary. One decent attempt on the Westside finds every edible odd and end served in single-use plastic cups, making us uneasy about the waste and ensuing micro-waste, no matter how much we’re drawn to the food.
Thus far, Alchemist is the one restaurant we feel is giving a proper Turkish breakfast the right amount of weight and respect in L.A.
“Best Turkish breakfast in Los Angeles, definitely,” Balaban says. “Everything fresh, everything homemade. It's just the quality of each and every item.”
The meal begins with a serving of black tea, piping hot inside bell-shaped glasses, with a small silver sugar bowl on the side. As you sip and chat, an array of differently sized steel platters and tureens is assembled before you.
There’s warm, house-baked loaves of bread broken into quarters. Extended borek “cigars” nestling zingy feta cheese in rolls of flaky phyllo dough. There’s a platter of really good fries topped with a fresh, unadulterated tomato sauce, and one nearby with just cut tomatoes and cucumbers. A tureen with sliced, salty-sour sujuk sausage wading in oil, and another filled with a thin, plain omelet, bookend the feast.
Between these lay shallow clay jars of almond slices with dried apricots, fat pumpkin seeds, and housemade tahini, Nutella, strawberry jam, subtly sweet muhammara, and honey from Turkey. Right in the middle, a cutting board bears orange slices and three types of cheese: a goat’s milk Tulum, a sheep’s feta speckled with poppy seeds, and trunks of creamy mozzarella.
A visual inspection reflects the dedication to details here. Imported olives bearing black grill marks are a big hit at our table. The muhammara comes punctuated with a single walnut half on top. A thick cube of butter has its own ramekin. The almonds are shaved razor-thin, Paulie-from-Goodfellas-thin.
The meal’s variety provides insurance against palate ennui, its substantial size and balance have the power to keep you energized and sustained through the afternoon. While there are things to be expected on the table, like the bread, cheese, fruits, nuts, honey, eggs, and tomato, there is no compulsory way to eat it.
You can do whatever you want; mix the sweet and the sour, dip your bread into this and back into that, making novel combinations, and veering from one flavor to another as desired. As long as you take it slow and sip and/or spill a little tea, while enjoying the conversation and the very act of taking time to live in the moment with someone you care about.
“If you come on the weekends, you will see all our regular customers,” Nyo says. ”They come from eight, nine o'clock, and they will sit until, like, lunchtime. They come and meet their old friends. And family. It just brings people, family, friends, everyone together. It's beautiful. That's the big, big point of it.”
Alchemist Cafe and Restaurant ~ 6258 Wilshire Blvd. Los Angeles, CA 90048
