Friends who had stayed there advised us Nisanyan House in Sirince would be “formally informal,” but we loved it, starting with the elderflower drink on arrival, served outside near the fountain laid with fresh flowers every morning. Our first room was huge, with a glassed-in tub/shower room, but even when we moved to a smaller one we woke up to the gorgeous view of the village sprawled below us. Breakfast was always an elaborate affair: preserves, cheeses, breads, fruit, eggs, cucumbers and tomatoes, olives etc. The one day we asked for a late-afternoon snack the kitchen rustled up a superb salad with cheese and purslane and tomatoes, plus a cheese plate, with Turkish white, to eat outside with the resident cat begging and posing. A gaggle of geese hung out in the parking lot, and a working donkey passed through morning and night. And the staff was superb, even the members whose English was about equal to our Turkish.

The only weak link was dinner. You have to order well in advance, so when you sit down the kitchen is ready, and if you’ve already had a late-afternoon snack you might not want that huge lamb shank that sounded so good earlier on. At least Bob’s shank was worth it, with succulent meat and flavor that didn’t taste too gamy even to me. The rice-cheese pilaf with it was also excellent. But I stupidly ordered a vegetable stew described as “mommy style,” and it was a mess of overcooked potatoes, carrots, mushrooms and zucchini in watery brodo with zero flavor and the eye appeal of upchuck. No wonder we got in a stupid argument. Our choice of meze was also misguided; the zucchini blossoms and pepper stuffed with rice were bland and mushy. Wine prices seemed out of line, too; I had to remind Bob we wouldn’t spend $50 on a bottle in New York.

Next night we happily trekked back down into the village, where we’d had a decent-enough little repast of salad, mezes and sweet wine at Artemis our first evening. Good old Trip Advisor rated Ocakbasi highly, and the setting would have made up for any lame food: tables out on a terrace right above the cheesy market with the usual views of the village. But the only thing lame was the “Turkish pancake,” which was more a Turkish quesadilla, and an anemic one at that. Roasted peppers were world-class, smoky roasted eggplant just as great, as was a green salad made with crunchy perfect vegetables. With a bottle of Turkish rosé served half a bottle at a time, it was well worth the walk down and back up the winding steps past goats and cats and old people on their stoops. It might not be “Italy with an edge,” but Sirince is a hot destination for good reason. It’s just most seductive after dark or from above.