Turkish Delight: A Soft Spot in the Heart of Istanbul

You’ve probably seen it stacked high in shop windows, dusted in sugar and glowing with impossible colors. Maybe you’ve even tasted it — a rose-scented cube that melts on your tongue and leaves you wondering: What did I just eat? Well, friend, welcome to the world of Turkish delight, or as it’s called here in Türkiye, lokum.

A Bite of History

The story goes that back in the late 1700s, a man named Hacı Bekir opened a small candy shop in Istanbul. He started making lokum with a new method — using sugar and starch — and things took off. That’s the official version, at least. But the truth is a little messier (and more interesting). Versions of this soft, chewy sweet already existed in Persia and the Arab world, long before Bekir showed up. Still, it was in Ottoman Istanbul that lokum really became a thing.

What Is Lokum, Really?

At its core, Turkish delight is a simple mix of sugar, water, and starch, boiled until thick and jelly-like. Once set, it’s cut into cubes and rolled in powdered sugar so it doesn’t stick to everything in sight. But that’s just the base — the fun comes with the extras.

Classic flavors include rosewater, mastic, and lemon. More decadent ones might be filled with pistachios, hazelnuts, or walnuts. Some are creamy, like kaymak lokum from Afyonkarahisar. Others are wrapped in dried fruit or dusted with coconut. You’ll even find lokum layered with nougat or chocolate, just to keep things interesting.

Lokum and Life in Istanbul

In Istanbul, lokum isn’t just a sweet — it’s a gesture. It’s what you bring when you visit someone’s home. It’s what’s handed out at weddings and religious holidays. It’s what your grandma sneaks into your palm with a wink. And let’s be honest, it’s what tourists get talked into buying at the Spice Bazaar (no shame — we’ve all been there).

You’ll find it served with Turkish coffee in some traditional cafés. In more old-school neighborhoods, people still give out boxes of lokum to mark life events — a birth, a death, a big move. It’s a part of daily life, sometimes quiet, sometimes festive.

A Global Journey

Turkish delight might be Turkish by name, but it gets around. In Greece, it’s loukoumi. In Romania, it’s rahat. In Serbia, it’s ratluk. Across the Middle East, you’ll hear it called raha or malban. In the UK, it turned into chocolate-covered Fry’s Turkish Delight. Even in India, something similar evolved into Karachi halwa — sticky, rich, and equally addictive.

Wherever it goes, it seems to bring a bit of that same old comfort — soft, sweet, a little nostalgic.

So, Is It Worth Trying?

Absolutely. But here’s the thing — not all lokum is created equal. The stuff in airport gift shops? Usually too sweet, too stiff, or too artificial. The real magic happens in smaller shops, where the recipe hasn’t changed in decades, and they’re still using real rosewater and top-shelf nuts.

From Constantinople to Cork: The Tale of Hadji Bey’s Turkish Delight

Hadjibey Turkish Delights

Now here’s a twist you might not expect — one of the most iconic Turkish Delight brands in Ireland didn’t start in Istanbul, or even in Turkey, but in Cork, thanks to an Armenian immigrant named Harutun Batmazian.

Back in 1902, during the Cork International Exhibition, Batmazian arrived from the Ottoman Empire. A former law student from Constantinople, he found himself in a new country, with no English, no money — just a recipe and some serious resilience.

Together with his wife Esther, he opened a sweet shop under the name Hadji Bey, which is a bit ironic — the name sounds very Muslim, while the family were Armenian Christians. Still, the brand stuck. And soon, so did their sweets.

Their Turkish Delight became legendary in Ireland and beyond. In fact, the yellow tins of Hadji Bey’s became a nostalgic treat for generations of Irish children. Despite setbacks — including racism, war-time shortages, and a devastating fire — the Batmazians kept the business going. Their son Edward eventually took over, and the brand continued for decades.

So next time you're in Ireland and spot a box of Hadji Bey’s Turkish Delight, know that it’s more than just a sweet — it’s the story of a family who brought a piece of Ottoman flavor to a very different corner of the world. A taste of Istanbul, made in Cork.

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Want to know where to go? Join one of my walking tours in Istanbul. I’ll take you to the good places — the ones hidden behind busy streets and souvenir stalls. And I’ll tell you which flavor is secretly the best (spoiler: it’s not what you think😏).