About four years ago, I was invited to a tasting in Çanakkale.
Japanese seafood expert Musashi Seto and Niyazi Önen, the founder of Dardanel, were introducing the first ready-to-eat sushi produced at their newly established factory. I still remember looking at the neatly packed boxes in front of me and thinking, “What a shame… They’ve invested so much. But can ready-made sushi really sell in Türkiye?” At the time, it struck me as an exceptionally bold venture.
Years passed. A few months ago, while speaking with Mr. Önen again, he told me they had expanded their sushi production and significantly increased capacity at their new facility. My response was immediate: “I have to salute your foresight in the face of my complete lack of it.” Sometimes entrepreneurs recognise a market transformation long before the numbers do. That day, I simply failed to see how dramatically Turkish eating habits were about to change.
Looking back now, however, I realise that the real story is not the success of packaged sushi itself. The more intriguing question is this: When did we become so obsessed with sushi? When did the “Sushi” section on restaurant menus become as standard as pizza or burgers? And when did tossing a pack of California Rolls into our shopping basket begin to feel perfectly ordinary?
According to the latest figures released by Sushida, which commands around 90% of the market, Istanbul leads the country in sushi consumption, followed by Ankara, İzmir, Antalya, Bursa, Trabzon and Konya. The district-level data are even more revealing. Alongside neighbourhoods such as Kadıköy and Beşiktaş, long known for their cosmopolitan dining scenes, districts with very different socioeconomic profiles including Esenyurt, Pendik, Buca and Nilüfer, also rank among the strongest consumers. To me, this points to one clear conclusion: sushi is no longer a symbol of a particular lifestyle. It is steadily becoming part of Türkiye’s everyday eating habits.
Ready-to-eat sushi is reportedly selling particularly well in supermarkets and petrol stations around university campuses across Anatolia. This reflects far more than the success of a new product; it reveals the way a new generation connects with the world. One of the clearest examples is onigiri, which has begun appearing more frequently on supermarket shelves. These triangular rice balls, filled with a variety of ingredients and sold everywhere from train stations to convenience stores in Japan and South Korea, have become one of the fastest-growing food trends of recent years. Their growing popularity in Türkiye, especially among Generation Z, is closely tied to the global rise of K-Culture, or Korean popular culture.
Social media, particularly TikTok, has played an undeniable role in this transformation. Today, millions of young consumers discover new foods not in restaurants but on their phone screens. A sushi video filmed by a content creator in Seoul, Tokyo, or New York can appear on the feeds of millions of young people in Türkiye within hours. The following day, many of them walk into a supermarket wanting to try the sushi they just watched online. And what they purchase is no longer just a few pieces of sushi. Many of the latest ready-to-eat packs now include chopsticks, soy sauce and wasabi, turning the simple act of opening the box into a miniature Japanese dining experience. For Generation Z, this is more than a quick meal; it is a small ritual to experience, photograph and share.
Yet social media alone cannot explain sushi’s remarkable rise. The product fits today’s lifestyle almost perfectly. It requires no heating, can easily be eaten at the office, works as a convenient standalone meal, is widely perceived as light and, perhaps most importantly, is visually appealing. Young consumers today are not simply eating; they are documenting, sharing and storytelling through what they eat.
It also comes as little surprise that California Roll remains by far Türkiye’s favorite variety. After all, California Roll is arguably the least Japanese of all sushi creations. Popularised in the United States rather than Japan and relying on more familiar ingredients instead of raw fish, it has become the gateway through which millions of people around the world first encountered sushi. In reality, the sushi embraced in Türkiye is not a direct reflection of Japan’s traditional sushi culture but rather a global interpretation inspired by Japanese cuisine. One important point is also worth noting: contrary to what many consumers assume, the vast majority of ready-to-eat sushi sold in Türkiye does not contain raw fish.
Today, sushi has become an ordinary choice for university students, young professionals and Generation Z. In a few years, it will also become part of their childhood memories. Perhaps then, no one will ask, “When did we get used to sushi?” For that generation, sushi will simply have always been there.
Some of the most profound changes in a country’s food culture happen quietly, not with the opening of a new restaurant, but with an empty refrigerated shelf in a supermarket. Looking back, those small sushi packs I saw in Çanakkale four years ago may well have been the earliest signs of a major transformation in Türkiye’s eating habits. I failed to recognise it. Fortunately, Dardanel did and had the vision to turn it into a business at scale.
