Beyond that, my little expedition to Kadikoy was definitely vaut le voyage. It took me a while to find the market away from the Atlantic City-bleak ferry terminal, but I had an excellent afternoon exploring produce stands and cheese shops and fish stalls and meze vendors. One store sold only pickled vegetables, and when I stepped inside and signaled my appreciation of the vinegar-infused air, the owner insisted on my trying a cucumber, then gave me a glass of his good lemonade to wash it down. I asked to take his photo out front, and a vendor from across the street ran over to hug and mug, too. Which made it all the more surprising when I stopped into a bakery and spotted macarons in the case and the salesclerk vehemently declined my mimed request to take a snapshot of such an un-Turkish phenomenon. I just left laughing. Hate to tell you, lady, but you may think you have something unique. But if they’re lying there next to the baklava far from Paris, they are so over. Contemplated cupcakes yet?