Some meals don’t just arrive on your plate—they announce themselves. At BayDöner in Erbil’s Family Mall, the familiar scent of sizzling meat and melted butter drifted across the corridor like a siren song. I followed it instinctively, drawn by the promise of one of my all-time Turkish favourites: the legendary İskender Döner.

The Setting: Erbil’s Urban Heartbeat

Family Mall is Erbil in miniature—a paradox of past and present. Outside, the city hums with history, the ancient citadel watching over a skyline of cranes and new glass towers. Inside, families juggle shopping bags and ice cream cones under the glow of polished floors and neon signs.

Tucked among the international brands and local boutiques was BayDöner, its glowing red sign promising a taste of Turkey. The smell of grilled meat and butter wafted out into the corridor, pulling me in like a magnet.

The Dish: A Turkish Legend on Kurdish Soil

Before diving into the taste, it’s worth pausing to appreciate the story behind this Turkish icon. İskender Döner traces its origins to Bursa, sometime in the mid-19th century, where a culinary innovator named İskender Efendi decided to elevate the humble döner kebab into something truly memorable.

His genius lay in layering textures and balancing richness: thinly sliced lamb roasted on a vertical spit, served over crispy cubes of pide bread, then drenched in tangy tomato sauce and finished with hot, melted butter made from sheep’s milk. A generous spoon of cool yoghurt on the side completed the creation.

The result was a dish that embodied the soul of Ottoman cooking — bold, indulgent, and deeply comforting. Each layer plays its part: the crispness of bread against tender meat, the sharpness of tomato meeting the mellow butter, and the yoghurt lending relief and contrast.

Over time, İskender Döner became a national treasure — a dish that Turks often associate with celebration, family, and nostalgia. And like all great culinary traditions, it has travelled and evolved, adapting to local tastes without losing its essence.

The Classic I First Fell in Love With

My first encounter with İskender Döner was with the classic yoghurt version—a dish that felt like poetry written in butter and bread. Thin slices of grilled döner rested on crisp pide bread, generously bathed in a tangy tomato sauce and crowned with streams of molten butter poured right before serving. The cool yoghurt on the side cut through the richness perfectly, creating a balance that lingered long after the last bite.

It’s one of those meals that remind you why culinary traditions endure: they’re not just recipes, but stories—told in flavour, texture, and scent.

The Twist: Roasted Eggplant İskender

This time, I decided to wander off the familiar path and try BayDöner’s Roasted Eggplant İskender—a contemporary twist on the timeless Turkish dish. The yoghurt was replaced by smoky roasted eggplant, which added a gentle, earthy depth and a vegetable touch that pleasantly surprised me.

The plate itself was a feast for the eyes: golden bread soaking up the ruby-red tomato sauce, tender meat gleaming under streaks of melted butter, and roasted aubergine lending glossy, deep browns to the tableau. The pouring of melted butter, that signature flourish I always look forward to, remained the showstopper—rich, fragrant, and utterly irresistible.

Flavours That Travel

Each bite carried layers of meaning. The crisp bread met the succulence of the döner, the butter enveloped everything in warmth, and the aubergine brought a mellow smokiness that felt both novel and nostalgic.

In that moment, I could trace the dish’s journey—from Bursa’s 19th-century kitchens, where İskender Efendi perfected his creation, to the vibrant mall restaurants of modern Erbil, where it continues to delight diners across cultures.

Reflections: Butter, Bread, & Belonging

İskender Döner, in any form, refuses moderation. It celebrates abundance—of layers, of flavour, of joy. Sitting in Family Mall, surrounded by the hum of Kurdish families sharing laughter and food, I realised this dish mirrors the city itself: layered, generous, and full of harmony amid contrasts.

As I finally set down my fork, the plate bore traces of my indulgence—sauce-streaked bread and the last glimmers of melted butter. I leaned back, content and nostalgic, feeling that once again, BayDöner had managed to serve not just a meal, but a memory.