Sandwich of Tomatoes, Olive Spread, and Feta on Turkish Simit
Special Bake of traditional simit this weekend at the Bakehouse
This coming weekend, we have what is now a quarterly opportunity to buy some simit at the Bakehouse—we’ll be making it on August 14 and 15, and it’ll be available at both the Bakeshop and the Deli. While we still make simit only four or five times a year, I believe with ever-greater strength that it could be a Future Breadwinner for us—while you might well not have heard of it yet, I’m confident that in a couple of years, we’ll be producing these super tasty, sesame-coated, traditional Turkish “rolls” with far greater frequency than we are now. And we’re not alone: Forbes reported last fall that simit has been the second-most-sought-out breakfast item on Google, with nearly 27 million searches annually!
I’ll save you the trouble of searching—we’re going to be baking this great bagel-like Turkish bread in large quantities this weekend! And while I love them plain, just as they are, I’ll also share this delicious summer simit sandwich: add slices of ripe heirloom tomato, crumbled feta cheese, a generous amount of olive paste spread on the bread, and a few chopped fresh mint leaves to liven it all up, and you’ll have a stellar sandwich.
For those who haven’t yet had the chance to enjoy a simit from the Bakehouse, here’s a bit of background to provide some culinary and cultural context. In the January 1995 issue of The Atlantic, my friend Corby Kummer, the food writer, published a long piece about his visit to Istanbul the previous year. He opened by sharing all the downsides of the city but then, in a lovely authorial about-face, announced to everyone, “I’d go back in a minute. In the course of a 10-day visit I recently made, Istanbul lodged in my soul.” After detailing a number of the cultural highlights of the visit, Corby got to the heart of the culinary matter:
My survival food was simit, big dark rings of sesame-covered bread stacked on pushcarts all over the city: vendors carrying wooden trays laden with them, often still warm, are a frequent and welcome sight. A simit is more than a sesame bagel ever dreamed it could be.
All these years later, simit is still going strong. Travel writer Laura McVeigh, in a February 2026 piece titled “What the Ottomans Knew About Sustainability,” shares her experience of simit in the 21st century, as well as some of its history.
Simit is warm, topped with crunchy sesame seeds. Found all over the city today, they’re just one of many reminders of the Ottoman past. The first simit was enjoyed in the 16th century, and according to 17th-century explorer and travel writer Evliya Çelebi, by the 1630s, over 70 simit bakeries had opened up in the city, such was the Turkish demand.
In Turkey, as Corby said, simit is a critical component of everyday eating—a single item that conveys the baker’s art and instantly evokes a sense of community, country, and culture for anyone who is either from Turkey or has spent meaningful time there. My last visit to Istanbul took place many decades ago, well before we opened the Deli in 1982. And yet, like Corby, I still remember the simit. Hazim Tugun, longtime Bakehouse bread specialist, grew up in Turkish Cyprus, where simit is standard fare. (When I last wrote about simit, Hazim shared his experience with it and described how it takes him back to his childhood.) Personally, I’m imagining a future here at the Bakehouse in which many dozens of simit are baked and sold every single day!
Back to the super tasty sandwich I mentioned: to make it, simply slice the simit open as you would a bagel. I like mine lightly toasted, but it’s great as is, too. Spread each of the two cut sides of the simit with some of the olive paste. Crumble on the feta, and press it gently into the olive spread to help keep it from sliding around too much. Lay on nice slices of just-cut heirloom tomato. Sprinkle with some sea salt and Turkish marash red pepper flakes (the earthy Urfa pepper is a more particular taste but also delicious!), plus a few torn leaves of fresh mint. Press the two halves together, get a good grip on the whole thing, and enjoy!
It would be messy enough that you’d need to eat it with a knife and fork, but it’s excellent with an over-easy egg atop the tomato, too. Or try it with a few anchovies—I’m partial to the ones we get from Ortiz or from Fishwife. Salty, savory, sweet from the tomato, and terrific!
