Istanbul Café sits on a rather glum office-block stretch of 57th Street, but the eatery feels somehow apart. The mix of diners reminds me of the crowd you might see in JFK International Airport just before the evening flights go out. One night, our fellow eaters ranged from mothers in colorful headscarves, barely dressed women in black dresses and thigh-high boots, and polished uptowners discussing the merits of their dogs and marble countertops. All of them were happily munching on family-style arrays of bright salads, lamb every which way, and... More >>>