WHO REALLY OWNS A RESTAURANT?

EBRU ERKE

You may have the capital to open a restaurant. You may have eaten at some of the best restaurants in the world, know your wines and be able to recognize quality ingredients. You may even find an exceptional chef. But if you do not speak the language of the kitchen, to what extent is the restaurant you have opened truly yours? Ali Özbora and Aydan Özkan, the owners of People in Nişantaşı, approached that question in a rather unusual way: They undertook professional culinary training not because they wanted to become cooks in their own restaurant, but because they wanted to become its true owners.

The investor behind a restaurant and the person who really owns its culinary identity can sometimes be two different people. A talented chef arrives, bringing favorite ingredients, familiar techniques and flavors from their own background to the menu. Then that chef leaves. Someone else takes over, and the language of the menu changes with them. After several changes of chef, the name above the door may remain the same, while entirely different restaurants have come and gone inside.

Ali Özbora is hardly a newcomer to the restaurant world. He opened his first restaurant, Coco Pazzo, in Arnavutköy in 1999. It was an Italian restaurant and bar serving dinner before turning into a pre-club venue later in the evening. The kitchen was run by a sous chef and team recruited from Çırağan Kempinski. At the time, Özbora believed that someone who traveled extensively, ate well and understood good restaurants could also run a good restaurant. And I suspect this is still the starting point for many people investing in gastronomy today.

Yet there is an enormous distance between being a discerning restaurant customer and actually running a restaurant. The plate we see on the table is merely the final product of an extraordinarily complex system behind it, encompassing everything from purchasing and inventory management to recipe standardization and waste, equipment investment and staffing.

Self-taught operators and investors often end up learning, at considerable expense in their own businesses, lessons that could have been acquired through formal training. Because if you do not know exactly what you want, your kitchen will naturally gravitate towards what the person running it knows best. And eventually, the restaurant begins to lose its identity…

Seventeen years later, when Ali Özbora and his wife Aydan Özkan opened People Nişantaşı, the circumstances were very different. Both had spent years traveling, experiencing different cuisines in their countries of origin and eating their way through many cities across Anatolia. This time, they had a much clearer idea of the kind of restaurant they wanted to create. But they soon realized that simply knowing what you want is not enough either.

You can tell a chef what kind of dish you want. But what happens when the chef says, “We can’t execute this during service”? Or “We need another person to make this dish.” Or, “This ingredient inevitably generates this much waste.” Or, “The cost of this recipe cannot be brought down any further.” Is the chef right? If you do not understand the kitchen, you have no way of knowing.

Of course, running a restaurant requires trusting your chef. But trust and complete dependence are not the same thing. If a restaurant’s culinary identity is to survive changes in chef, someone has to safeguard the larger framework. And this is precisely what I find so interesting about Ali and Aydan’s decision to undertake professional culinary training.

One trained in professional cookery, the other in pastry. Their intention was never to put on chef whites and take over the kitchen at People. They studied not to become chefs, but to speak the same language as their chefs. I think that distinction is crucial. A restaurant owner needs to understand the kitchen not in order to become a chef, but in order to ask the right questions.

Ali Özbora uses a concept borrowed from his advertising background; “disciplined freedom.” He believes it applies equally well to the kitchen. The restaurant’s concept, culinary direction and economic realities establish the framework. Within that framework, the chef should be given as much freedom as possible to exercise creativity.

Today, People describes its culinary philosophy as “Simple & True.” Its menu moves between Mediterranean, Turkish and Far Eastern cuisines, while Peru and Japan are the couple’s two personal gastronomic favorites. The aim is not to combine ingredients merely for the sake of creating fusion. It is about finding excellent produce and handling it with as little unnecessary intervention as possible.

One of the signatures, Tuna Tataki, pairs seared tuna with an aubergine purée sharpened with wasabi, sesame and roasted leek crisps. Two flavor worlds that initially seem far apart are drawn together through the smoky character of the aubergine and the pungency of wasabi. Sushi is another area in which they are particularly ambitious. The interesting detail here lies in the shari — the sushi rice. At the stage when vinegar is worked into the rice, they reinterpret the classic recipe using different local vinegars from across Türkiye. With the Peruvian classic of sea bass ceviche, meanwhile, the distinctive touch comes from a vinaigrette made with fresh green plums.

For me, these three examples are enough to explain People’s culinary language. They are not trying to imitate Japan, nor do they transform a Peruvian dish beyond recognition in the name of “localizing” it. Instead, they make subtle interventions in familiar flavors, filtered through their own palate.

Much of the menu consists of small sharing plates and two-bite dishes designed to accompany wine and cocktails. Their pricing philosophy is similarly built around allowing guests to experience as many dishes as possible. At current prices, it is possible to have dinner for around 1,000 Turkish Liras without alcohol, or approximately 1,500–2,000 liras with drinks. In Nişantaşı today, those are figures worth underlining.

I could also talk about People’s Parisian atmosphere, the changing artworks on its walls, the DJs playing three nights a week or the sound system inspired by Japanese jazz kissa listening bars. But what interests me more than the décor or the music is the story behind the restaurant. Because opening a restaurant in Istanbul has never been more attractive. You can hire an excellent architect and create a beautiful space. You can travel the world, study the trends, recruit a formidable chef and buy outstanding ingredients.

Chefs may change. Kitchen teams may change. Trends, ingredients and even customers’ tastes may change. But if the name above the door remains the same, someone inside needs to know what that restaurant is supposed to be.