Street food in Istanbul: Güneş Kokoreç

Last visit: June 2026

My rating: 9/10

Price: €/€€€€€

Cuisine: street food, kokoreç

The kokoreç is not a dish for the faint-hearted — literally. It’s a vertical spit of lamb offal: intestines wrapped, coiled, tightened like a mythological serpent; a spiral of viscera slowly roasted over charcoal, dripping fat and smoke as the vendor slices into it with surgical precision. And that’s not even the whole story: kokoreç is made from the intestines — the guts — and there’s no need to explain that these must be cleaned perfectly of their natural contents, otherwise the kokoreç develops decidedly unpleasant aromas. It’s the kind of dish that, if you describe it to someone without preparing them mentally, might put even long-standing friendships at risk. And yet, for all its grand-guignolesque overtones, kokoreç is one of the oldest forms of Mediterranean street food — and one of the most intense pleasures you can experience in Istanbul, if you have enough courage.

I assume Istanbul has hundreds of places that make an outstanding kokoreç, but I tried it at Günes Kokoreç in Üsküdar, and I could not have been happier with my choice.

Günes is Turkish street food exactly as you imagine it in your most unrestrained dreams. No aesthetics, no embellishments, no makeup. Just the smell of charcoal, the slow rotation of the spit, raw ingredients so fresh and pristine they trigger salivation on sight, and the confident swagger of people who have been doing the same thing for decades without missing a beat. You approach and watch the master at work: the kokoreç is chopped with quick, decisive movements, minced on the hot counter along with tomato, chili peppers and spices dosed with the wisdom of an alchemical formula. Then it’s piled into the bread — where the epiphany happens.

Because here, kokoreç isn’t just “good”: it’s electrifying.

The first bite is an explosion: the bread is merely the toll you pay to access the kokoreç, but once you reach the filling… melting fat on your lips, spices erupting in an aromatic crescendo, and that charcoal aftertaste that feels profoundly primordial (the closest comparison I can think of is Tuscan lampredotto, though kokoreç may actually be better). It’s a complex, feral flavor, yet somehow incredibly elegant in its brutality. Nothing is excessive, nothing accidental: every element — juiciness, seasoning, aroma — is calibrated with the precision of a true craftsman.

Günes Kokoreç is living proof that street food, when made with devotion and skill, can carry the intensity of a revelation. It’s not just food: it’s a ritual. A ritual consumed standing, amid the noises of the street, with the Bosphorus flowing a few meters away and the city vibrating like a living creature.

Eating kokoreç means accepting a simple truth: sometimes the most authentic cuisine comes from the parts of the animal most people would rather ignore. But not you. You chose to be initiated — and Günes Kokoreç will reward you with one of the most memorable bites in all of Istanbul.

In conclusion: if you want to eat like a tourist, go elsewhere. If you want to eat like the real Istanbullu, then come to Üsküdar, step up to the counter at Günes, and order without overthinking it. No one will judge you as you close your eyes, bite, and smile like a convert. Because yes: kokoreç divides the world between those who will never taste it and those who will miss it forever.

Bon appétit — and welcome to the brotherhood.