Joshua Kloke has spent a considerable amount of time looking for great pizza in Istanbul. Food critic Nicola Prentis counters with the “when in Rome...” argument. In other words, when in Istanbul, eat as the Istanbullites do: lahmacun and pide!

All loves are traceable back to your past. That sounds a bit Freudian; but I’m just rather hungry. Friday nights were a bit of a rarity when I was young. I’d actually want to leave the football pitch and make it home for dinner. Friday nights were pizza nights in my household and I’ve since made it a tradition anywhere else I’ve lived.
Now, I don’t know exactly why pizza brought the four of us together. Had there not been a “Mother’s Pizzeria” down the road, Friday’s might have become Chinese or Mexican night. The idea of a “Comfort food” resonates heavily with many travelers, tourists and ex-pats alike. I’ve found that as I travel farther away from home, my desire to find the perfect slice of pizza becomes more of a mission than just an opportunity to get a little homesick. Eating pizza had become as much self-definition as anything else.
There’s a reason this city welcomes 500 newcomers every day. Coming to Istanbul is as much a search for an identity as it is for work. So I don’t think my search for a perfect pie is far off.
Pizza matters in Istanbul. Anyone who’s ventured into the chaos of Naples to taste the ‘za would agree that pizza ought to be classified as its own “Ethnic food.” In a city that boasts some of the most diverse food in the world, you’ve got to wonder how their pizza selection stacks up.
Pizza is creative food and mood food. You can toss everything on it if your ego stretches far enough or you can stick to a basic Margherita if it hasn’t been your best day. As the saying goes, pizza is like sex. Even when it’s bad, it’s still pretty good.
I’ve encountered 3 pizza joints in Istanbul that stick out. They all feature wood-fire ovens (Not cooking a pizza in a wood-fire oven is like slicing a kebab horizontally) and eclectic atmospheres.
Anyone who has come into Taksim from Beşiktaş has been drawn towards “Pizzeria Pidos” at one point. A clandestine-looking building leads you to believe this is a place just for folks in the know. And photos of the Rat Pack on the wall also indicate an authentic Italian threat. But you might not leave feeling full. Ironically, “Pizzeria Pidos” ought to adhere to the golden rule of pizza: less is more. Perhaps it was the build-up; you can practically sit in the oven and watch the pizzaiola whip up whatever you’ve ordered. It’s not a bad starting point.
The paperback edition of “Time Out Istanbul” guided me to “Miss Pizza” in Cihangir very early on. Without an English menu, your mood of the day will ultimately be determined by whatever you end up with. But with perfect dough, a wide variety of toppings and a relaxed patio, I doubt you’ll leave with a bad taste in your mouth.
Top of the pops goes to Otto Restaurant in Asmalımescit; this is where you ought to start your night out in Beyo#lu. Over 20 different innovative choices, righteous sauce and an atmosphere that would leave an interior decorator stumbling make Otto the place to head for a slice in Istanbul. There’s an air of confidence in the joint too; I asked for a substitution on my ‘za to which the waiter replied, “I don’t think that’s going to happen. Our chef doesn’t like to make substitutions; he knows what tastes right.” Sure enough, I didn’t eat pizza for a month afterwards as I knew nothing outside of Italy would compare.
Though I don’t live anywhere near any of these joints, I rarely succumb to any number of the chain joints. (Though I will give into the Pizza Hut buffet after a night on the piss. We’re all human, Nicola) These places offer as much hope for authentic pizza as they do for local, independent business. Pizza may be the true international food but it doesn’t have to be sold off to international chains because we all love it.
You have to ask yourself, do you want to be reminded of home or do you want to carve your own niche? There are likely more places than the ones I’ve listed. But they’re for you to find. Let your mood and your nose guide you and I’m sure you’ll find lots to write home about.

Defending Lahmacun and Pide
The evidence that pizza is the international food is also the reason you don’t need to look outside Turkish cuisine to find it.  Lahmacun, the meat, tomato, spice and onion topped plate-sized pizza eaten rolled up with salad inside, red pepper and a squeeze of lemon juice (not flat with a knife and fork as the uninformed might think) or the more corpulent, cheese covered, breadier pide easily hold their own against their Italian cousin. 
I’m not going to debase pide and lahmacun by comparing them with the version slopped onto plates at Domino’s or Pizza Hut.  Turkish pizza doesn’t need the gimmicks of stuffed crust or All You Can Scoff buffets.  Your pizza craving can be sated 24/7 in less time than it would take to remove your coat and be perusing the menu at an Italian pizzeria.  The gratification couldn’t be more instant, faster even than paket (take-away), pide and lahmacun can be bought elde (in hand).  It’s barely even necessary to recommend particular places, so consistent is the ubiquitous Turkish pizza.  But Konyalılar Etli Etmek in Kazasker, Suadiye with the thinnest base imaginable, Konak on ‹stiklal, Borsam in Kadıköy, and Genç Kebab in Üsküdar cover most corners of the city you are likely to find yourself in when the pizza fix comes on.
The only drawback of ordering Turkish pizza is when the waiter can’t understand what you mean by ‘lamakoon’ and ‘peed’.  Asking for ‘La-ma-joon’ and ‘pee-day’ will bring you a pizza that is always thin, always cheap at 1.50-2.75ytl and 6-8ytl respectively, and more environmentally friendly without the air miles of imported prosciutto and ricotta cheese.  Your fevered brain doesn’t have to contend with a bewildering array of hit or miss toppings, just a tried and tested pide combination of meat, sucuk, cheese, eggs or spinach or the reassuringly predictable lahmacun. 
And need I even point out, you’re in Turkey.  Cuisine is always better cooked by those who share nationality, not just proximity, with the dish; there’s no need to settle for foreign pizza done badly.  What kind of peasant would go to Italy and order a kebab?