In this podcast episode, Ferhat Dirik, owner of Mangal 2 in Dalston, London, shares his journey with the family-run Turkish restaurant. He began working there at age 11 in the basement kitchen, motivated by a desire to spend time with his father and a strong work ethic instilled by his immigrant background. After earning a degree and working in media (including at the Mail Online and Vice), Ferhat took over the restaurant at 25 when his father retired, feeling a deep connection to the place and a sense of duty. He describes how Mangal 2 evolved alongside Dalston’s gentrification, shifting from a local spot for families to a trendy destination for a hipster crowd. Ferhat also pioneered a distinctive, personal Twitter voice for the restaurant, which helped it stand out and attract customers. He reflects on the challenges of operating in a competitive environment, including price wars with nearby Turkish restaurants and a period of poor customer behavior driven by the area’s hedonistic nightlife. Despite these difficulties, Mangal 2 has remained a beloved institution, and Ferhat continues to navigate the pressures of the London restaurant industry while preserving his father’s legacy.
Hello everyone and welcome back to the Vittles Podcast. We hope you enjoyed the last episode about the so-called Race to the Mid. With guests Monty actually Craig and Farros Gadja. So next up my guest today is someone who many of you might already know, a restaurant owner, who in many ways I think symbolizes lots of the critical themes of the London restaurant industry, not just in 2025, but over the course of the last 20+ years. Berhat Derrick, the lifelong front of house and master of ceremonies at Dolston's Mangal 2, the family-run Turkish restaurant he's been working in since the late 1990s. Now for those of you who don't know, Mangal 2 is one of the most well-known and cult-followed Art Chukbashi's in North London. It was opened by Farros' father Ali Derrick in 1994 and has been at the centre of that community ever since. K-Treme first to the local Turkish community of St. Newton High Street, then through the hipster era of Dolston in the mid-2010s, to serving action-bronson, do-a-liepur, Charlie XCX and so-so many others over the years. But during the course of the last 15 years and increasingly under the stewardship of Farros himself, the restaurant has gone from the community fringes of neighbourhood restaurant territory and very much into the mainstream. It's a fully-fledged member of the London restaurant industry. So today, an in light of a series of quite illuminating blog posts in recent months, I'm going to talk to Farros about that journey, his journey, about the history of his family's restaurant, what it means to serve people in a city like London, about change, about speaking out, about difficulties of operating a restaurant right now, and about whether or not the end might well be naif for one of the city's most well-known and beloved places to eat. Now Mangal 2 is a restaurant I've been going to for the last 15 years, it's I first went I think in 2010, shortly after I'd moved to Dolston, with my then girlfriend and now wife, so it has a personal residence for me for, you know, no new since then, so it's absolutely pleasure to have you here. How are you doing? Yeah, I'm good, very honored to be here, very excited to talk. Good, good. Right, I want to start at the beginning. Yes. So you started working at Mangal 2 and you were 11? Yeah. Tell us about your first shift in the basement and then on the restaurant floor, what do you remember about those very early days? I didn't see my dad enough, he used to work six and a half days a week, you know, I'd be ready for school in the morning, he'd be asleep, I'd come home from school, he'd be at work, he'd come home at midnight, so I just want to spend time with my dad and then after badgering him for like, months, can I come to work, can I come to work? So I love being at the restaurant normally just to hang out. My mum sort of said, "Do you want just taking with you and see how it goes?" And it just started the ritual every Saturday. I remember being too young to appear on the floor and sort of like hidden away in the basement because A is illegal. B, I think my dad just wanted me to, the climatised sort of like, ground up quite literally. So I was sort of sent away into the kitchen with my dad's cousin who was like a mezzah chef, I guess would be the right term. And he sort of delegated me to do all the pan cooking, so we had pan fried kidneys, pan fried chicken and pan fried liver. And he sort of showed me after, you know, one week how to do it and I just sort of got on with it. It was quite surreal, realisation that I was actually cooking things that the public were paying for at that age. Something I didn't really even fully grasp the weight of it until I'd go to score on the Monday and think, "Oh shit, I did do that on the Saturday." You know, it's very removed from like my friends and what they were doing. But I really enjoyed it. I just caught the bug really. I was very energetic as a child because I played a lot of sports. But having that adrenaline sort of channeled in a vibrant, busy restaurant atmosphere felt like the right location for me at that age and I sort of continued since, I guess, but didn't actually pursue shefing. Before you started going there on Saturdays at 11, what are some of your memories of like even earlier childhood and the restaurant? My sense is that it was like a huge part of like the family's life. It still is. Yeah. It dominates every family before we have every like, this course is about the restaurant. We're pretty much centered on it still. Even though my dad's, my dad is retired. We've had all of our, I guess, foundations built off that as a family up and down. So yeah, I guess it's what binds us. I guess it's the ongoing theme of our family dynamic really. I especially mean my dad and when my brother was involved, the three of us as well, it's just an inescapable, dominating part of our lives, I guess. When you're 11, you're working in the kitchen, cooking. Tell us a bit about then the next few years, when did you go from doing one day a week to more days or? To be honest, it was always one day a week. My dad then occasionally once I turned 14, 15, 16 when I started doing front of house, he would be like, we're short on Friday, can you come in? And I'd have to like, show off my plans and my mates and then come in on a Friday. I didn't mind because I was paid cash, you know, I used to get paid £10 a day and then you know, with inflation, we went up to £30. I like to have my own money at that age, particularly. I'd like to be able to buy what I wanted as a child. I was quite materialistic. I wanted every computer game. I had this weird obsession with magazines and newspapers. So I used to buy my favourite magazines and buy a daily newspaper and trainers, whatever, you know, I just have my own money and I just felt really free free. My dad would always offer me money and I'd be like, no, no, no, I want to work, you know, just had this weird work ethic that just gave me a bit of sense of pride. And I think that's pretty common with first and second generation immigrants, you know, it's just a new hustle, right? I think I had that ingrained in me. As domineering as a restaurant sounds at that age, it was also very liberating for me. And how was it actually like working with not just your dad but other family members? Some were our souls, some were nice. Mixed bag, really. A lot of these men, predominantly men, almost exclusively at that stage. They weren't very educated. You know, they would stray out at the village in Turkey, into the UK with even like a political escapee visa or otherwise. You know, some were brutes, some were nice and I guess it really matured me quite early to be exposed to so many different characters. And then by the time I was 18, we used to go Turkey every summer as a family. We have a summer holiday home and I used to go to my parents. When I was 18, my dad was like, will you look after the restaurant whilst I'm away. That was the first time I was actually in charge at 18. I had so many bastards that I had to try and just control, running rings around me, trying to trick me, trying to steal, trying to not come into work, sabotage things. It was really a really big experience and I started doing it every summer even though I was at uni. So that really thrust me into like a sort of leadership role straight into the deep end. How did you navigate that? I just had to and I wasn't good at it, you know. I wasn't like this 18 year old coming in like a younger apprentice candidate and just running shit. I didn't have a clue. I remember one guy who was our bread supplier. We used to buy bread every day, outsource it. And my first summer looking after the restaurant. This is make payments of checks back in a day before online banking. And this man was like, oh, can you make the check out to not the bakery's name but to my name. Me being a dumbass, I was like, yeah, sure. And summer comes and goes and then his business partner rocks in furious like that man swindled all of our funds. You signed under his name and I didn't fucking know. And even like decisions like that had such repercussions and even my suppliers were trying to hustle me. Like looking at his fresh face 18 year old boy, like it was pretty cut through. Yeah. So when did you start like full time? I took over the restaurant at 25, got my degree and then I worked in media by always worked at a restaurant whilst studying. I used to work for the mail online to my great shame as a social media editor. I worked at vice in turn that time out and had loads of like freelance jobs here and there. And I always worked either part time or full time at a restaurant. So I'd like work office hours and then go into the restaurant. It's easier to do that when you're young and single and like whatever. And I had a lot of energy as I say. But then I got to the point where I was about 25 and I was with my then girlfriend and you know at that age, which you know in hindsight very young bells about to become a dad. And then my dad was like, look what you're going to do? My dad was already one for outdoor door anyway. My dad's been working, I mean I started working at 11, my dad started working at six. He grew up very impoverished. He used to be a shoe shine boy and you know worked his way through life to get to work.
where he got to today. But he was like, "Look, I don't really want to work anymore. We take over to restaurant." And that stage, my brother's 17, he's in sixth form. My sister, she's on the verge of getting her doctorate in psychology. I thought, "If I don't do it, who's going to do it?" I've got such a connection to this building, to this place. Do I let it go and continue pursuing the career in sort of like working in media, social media. I had a really bad time at the mail online as well, leading up to that really had a horrible boss. I just thought, "You know what, fuck it. I don't really want to work for someone if I don't have to." And I have a real passion for this restaurant and I just thought, "Okay, fine. I'll do it." And from 25, I officially joined my dad as like partner, but in reality, I was running it. He stopped working. So that's really when I started running it. Was this around like 2014-2015? Yeah. Okay. Yeah. I'm curious about how during that time then, when you started working more often, running the floor, like you were the sort of face of the restaurant. It felt like, yeah, I was there. Yeah, I guess. But it also seemed to me to kind of like coincide with a change in Dostin and a change in that area. And like it became this sort of like, you know, hips, epicenter. Yes. How did the restaurant change? How did your kind of customers change? Yeah. What was it like to be at that? Because especially with you, like you were working in social media, you were like part of that scene in a way. Like how was that? It was weird because seeing that change evolve in an area, I was born in Dostin. So I lived in Dostin until I was about eight. Okay. But then always stayed in Dostin through work. So I was, you know, I was a local. And you know, Dostin Hackney used to be such a no-go zone back then. Incredibly high crime rates, really bad reputation. Property was, you know, solved for pittance because no one would touch it with a barge poll really. Then to see like creative studios move to Dostin and then night venues, also pop up at once in the late 2000s, like, you know, 2005 onwards sort of thing. Gentrification is probably a, uses a negative term, but I guess that shift should we say, it was quite surreal. None of our story coming. Right. Because of the nature of the area. But then it became this exciting spot, you know, I'd be working till 1am on a Saturday and I'd go out to FSNUka Club. I've got to Alibi Ness, you know, all the usual haunts. Do you have visions? Yes, visions, visions. Yes, birthday, you know, that came later on. It was fun. Like, you'd work hard and you'd go out for hours and then, you know, go home. It was, it was, but the customer base definitely changed. We just have loads of families and a bit more formal. And then during my era, I should say, sort of prior to that, my dad scrapped the tablecloths. So it became a bit more casual. Okay. Through my era, I got rid of like, waiters wearing ties and shit like that, you know, like, we're in brick clean or something. So we made a bit more casual, but not the iteration is today. So we didn't ever try and pander too much to that change in terms of what we were offering. All our staff were still Turkish. We were still very like traditional in that sense, but I guess we were always a little bit different as well because when you've got two in your name, you know, automatically it draws attention often negative. Like, oh, what's one? You know, so let's talk about Twitter. I feel like you were among the pioneers of brand Twitter written in first person. My guess is you were just in charge of the account because that was your account. You didn't think much about writing as you, but from the business account. Talk to me about the early days of that and how you went from creating what was really, I think, one of the first big London restaurant Twitter accounts. My sister was running our Twitter account for a while, just very like formally. Like, and she was like, you should do the Twitter. You should do Twitter. And I was like, I don't want to do the Twitter. I was very adverse to like being on any social media platform. How come? Just, I just thought I can't be asked. And then she was like, oh no, you should do it because you're already at the restaurant. I've got loads of things to do, you know, I was like, fuck it. I'll do it. And then when I did it, that coincided with the, obviously, the area changing. And then I guess I've always, even at school during six form, you know, English literature was my favorite lesson. That and drama. Clearly. And I just, I always had like a bit of a, I don't know, that sound obnoxious. A bit of a voice. Yeah. And I just thought Twitter, I was looking at other restaurants that were doing it enough. Well, that's bland. That's not me. And I guess from doing that, I sort of became the restaurant in a strange way because it was always the restaurant's icon. Yeah, yeah. But it was me. Yeah. And they'd be random musings that had nothing to do with the restaurant, you know, Arsenal politics, whatever. Topical. Nandos. Nandos. Topical affairs. I always tried to revert back to Cabab's and some capacity. So pre Twitter was actually not busy at that. Always busy. Always busy. We had 105. Well, actually, no, we had like a 60 capacity. And then my dad and I, together, we just before he sort of retired, we built the downstairs. The downstairs used to be just a big storage area, which we didn't need. We built downstairs, dining area and recon sort of the day that everything to the kitchen that we have downstairs now. And then we came like 105 capacity restaurant. And we're always busy. People would just rock up 15 of them, which would never happen today. 15 people would rock up and be like, have you got a table? Come downstairs, push them tables together because Dorsen was such a spot where you'd got for your birthday. And you know, back then, booking platforms weren't very common. Yeah. What was there? There was like open table, but like, there wasn't really rubbish one book a table book a table and things like that. And they were like, really extortion at the restaurants. And I want to really use those, you know, bookings were like phone call, you turn up. So that downstairs really propelled us with these, you know, big groups. And we're always busy because of that really. Did the Twitter like really bring people in? I think it did. And I think people were like, even really vocal about when they came in or like too cool for school to be like, oh, I came in because of the Twitter, you know, there were a bit. But yeah, I could tell, you know, when people are sort of like, I don't know, yeah, it definitely propelled us. Very mind. I had to stand out. I came from this background where my dad created Mango One. I grew up in there in that restaurant, really. Oh, yeah, talk about that a bit. That's kind of key context. There's key context, I guess, for the Twitter, I guess, because my dad created Mango One with his business partner who was a kitchen porter. Then he opened Mango Two Solo, but kept Mango One. But then a year or two trying to run both simultaneously, he realized that he kind of lost grip on Mango One. He was so focused on Mango Two because it had a vast the menu that my dad being a chef, he wanted to really like display the range of things that he knew and wanted to serve people, including like having done that, having like an array of mezzet options and fish, things that Mango One weren't doing then. Like Mango One was his like launch, but Mango Two was like his vision. So he came to a crossroads and he was like, you know what, he sent his business partner by Mango One of me. You do one, I do two. But then I grew up in the shadow of Mango One because Customs are coming and then sit down for free, and he's like, oh shit, this is the wrong restaurant and walk out every night. People would come in every night and be like, hey, and he's like, oh come in, have a table, like where's Mango One? And he'd be like, oh, it's round the corner. I wanted to rewrite history a little bit because the man division, the brain behind Mango One was my dad. And then Mango One sort of ran with like, oh, we're simply the best and you know, we're the original. So it became just like weird little feud. Just for listeners, Mango One is literally round the corner, literally three minute walk around the corner. So it was just weird. Like I was frosted into this weird beef with another restaurant that I kind of had some entitlement to but also didn't. And we had very similar menus, albeit ours was a bit faster. So we had to really stand out. So the people that continue to run Mango One were people then that you see his son. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, okay parallels, you know, right? Yeah, yeah, yeah. And like, you know, he and I never got on. And then you couple that with five, six, seven other restaurants opening on the same strip doing the exact same copy based menu. The beta, like exact, you know, but a pound less. Each main course of pound less, each start of 50 p less. And then they all started doing BYUB. And then you're fucked. You're like, well, where my profit margins? We did BYUB, but the caveat that charge in per bottle or minimum order X, Y and Z. But they were just like, yeah, come in, come in, come in. And I saw people come in, bringing in crates and crates of beer. The way people perceive the general Turkish cuisine in the aerial, they didn't really respect it. It was like, let me get fucked up. Let me drink as much I can and cababs are like secondary to my evening's experience. But I guess that was the general dining out culture back then anyway. And being in an area that's so populist with bars
and clubs are people just out for a good time. Whereas what we are today, you come to the restaurant and that is your evening, that is your experience, that is your intention. I guess that was a negative side to the development of Dawson of Kings and Road. It became this harbour of like, hedonism and then you sort of, you lose your way a bit as a restaurant and type of customers you experience really change, you know. Mostly negative during an era, I'd say. The behavior of customers was mostly negative, you mean? Yeah, you know what, I know right of my newsletters, like sometimes I wrote a newsletter called Manus about shifting behavioral patterns and customers, but like even today at the worst of it, pre-COVID when we were in our jugbushy restaurant, I look back and I'm like, oh my god, how did I tolerate X, Y and Z? I sometimes have like flashbacks, I'm like, I would never ever fucking tolerate any of that. No, what? People were horrendous, those are just man, like you'd get to take away all the wrong, I mean I say wrong, I mean, you put onions in the wrap, like no one died. This man would be swearing, screaming and he'd come back in next week, like he killed his mother, but then continue ordering. You'd have people coming in and being really like obnoxious, rude, dismissive, all types, just really apporant. I think there's a subconscious racism that isn't really spoken about enough and I definitely experienced that regularly. And there's loads of examples, I don't really dwell on the past, but honestly the level of customer we had then compared to what we had now, their eons. But these like young people, they're all people. Oh man, both. Yeah, and you know, young people's because they were very inebriated, whatever. Older people is just this weird entitlement. I'm coming here, spending £10 for a wrap, I demand you to fucking get every detail right. And if you don't, I'm going to give you the biggest bollocking ever. That was a very regular occurrence. One awful thing to have to endure. Well, it's made me battle hardened, you know, it's made me who I am today, but yeah, not pleasant. So in some respects, then Twitter is an outlet. For sure. I grew up quite ill, so I didn't really bring that into the picture right now. But when I was 16, I was diagnosed with Crohn's disease and I was hospitalised, had many operations up until 22. And that really shaped me. That and all the aforementioned restaurant experiences did allow me to have this sort of like escapism through Twitter, where I was finding my voice as a person, as a young man, to the point where today who I am and how I project myself, they're the same. But back then, I was quite, I wasn't very confident. I had health issues. I had a lot of responsibility. A young age that I probably shouldn't have. That wasn't really equipped for. And I think Twitter was a nice outlet then. And it served its purpose for me to grow up, I guess. It definitely felt like that. Like, what's different from the far? I mean, it was slow car crash. No, no, no, no, no, I don't feel like that. It was just, it was refreshing. It was entertaining. It was, yeah, it was funny. I always sort of, it was self-depreciating. A lot of it was like self-depricating, sorry, but it was always like, poking fun at us as well, you know? Well, I wanted it to be relatable because a lot of restaurants were like, look how good we are at this and that. And people find in their social media voice as well because it's all new, isn't it? I was just like, well, yes, we're well and good, but look how bad we are at this and that. And people sort of drawn to that, you know, I guess. Yeah, the he relatable. Yeah, exactly. You were fallible. For sure. But were there any really memorable like tweets that stick out in your mind? And you know, I've since deleted the Twitters and I don't really look back much, but I guess there's a few tweets that I wrote. Most of them were on the toilet or on the bus, you know, but one of them was like, come quoting a customer, coming in saying, oh, I'm Celiac, I'm vegan, I've got a not allergy, I'm diabetic, etc, etc. But what would you recommend, I order? I was like, champagne, so fucking miracle you're alive. You know, let's celebrate something. You know, that was a good one, I think. And the other one was customers keep asking for baby changing facilities, but I just think you should be happy what you have, you know, things like that. Yeah. Yeah, it was, that was it. It was on the edge, wasn't it? It was always on the edge. Yeah. Yeah. A lot of darkness. Right, I think we should like skip forward to like what felt like a really significant moment in the restaurants history. And that was obviously COVID and pandemic, which hit restaurants across the board in ways that we all know about. But I remember very vividly the time, it was like you reinvented the restaurant. Yeah. Yeah. So you went from being this more casual sort of family-oriented grill restaurant, Mercedes restaurant, to being a sort of small plate, spine dining adjacent. Yeah, casual fine, something in between. Like a very modern restaurant. Your brother, yeah, Sir Tash was involved as the chef. He'd been in Copenhagen and stuff. Correct. Correct. So basically it came about when he dropped out of uni and then he spent a year working in the restaurant when he was, I might be wrong, 2021. And we were together all the time working. And we both were just a bit frustrated with the direction of the restaurant. And with him by my side, I had a second voice, second like person to really reinforce my frustrations. We wanted things to be better and we felt really frustrated that we couldn't really change it too much. We wanted to move at the times. He and I were very interested in dining out. We were very much food, not corn the serves, but you know, I hate to turn foodies, but I don't know what else to say. You know, we said love is dining out. We said follow all the best restaurants. And then we had our own traditional spot. And it was a bit like, ah, it could be better. You know, it's not really in line with our vision. We kept talking and brewing this idea that, I wish we could do this differently, and that differently. And then whilst he was trying to figure out what to do with his life, because he'd just quit uni, he used to be a graphic designer, drama, you know, he had loads of creative outlets. He saw an opportunity to intern in Staja 108, which was like the sister restaurant of No Mar. I really encouraged him to go. I was like, look, dad locked me in here. Like you go, you spread your wings and find your vocation. So I supported him and he went, he ended up going Copenhagen. Again, I might be wrong year and a half, two years, something along those lines. And he worked in various really good spots. And I was like supporting him from afar, really excited about what he was doing. And then I had to run the restaurant and keep it afloat. But it was going bad. It was only so far I can go with like when you're charging £12 a main course. But you know, I'd visit him and see what's about. And I'd feel quite stimulated coming back. And then the pandemic here, and he wanted to come home. And I was like, I was in the bad place because all my staff left, my staff all found jobs. And he was in a place where he was like, well, what do I do next? And I was like, why don't you come in with me 50/50? I remember vividly picking them up from Heathrow and that drive, that 50 minute drive back to my parents house. We were just like, let's do this, let's do that. Let's do it. You know, we were just so excited. And from day one, we went straight back into that restaurant whilst everyone was closed and we were like, let's realise our vision. We've got nothing to lose. We don't know where the world's headed with this lockdown and they felt very like end of the world and we're like, fuck it, let's go out swinging. We've got the government bounce back loan, 50k. And we were just like, let's pay off some debts. And the rest we can, we had two builders and we're like, let's just, this is when I said, we definitely sat up tonight. I was his vision as well, that gots this restaurant, rebuild it. And I think that struck a chord with people during lockdown. I remember one of our first Instagram followers, like being really excited and someone prominent, like Jackson Boxer. And when he gave like a bit of a thumbs up sort of like, oh you guys, I'm really excited to see what you're doing. People like that that really gave us the confidence to launch that, I think July when things reopened. But it felt at that time, I remember, I interviewed you during during that time. For ETA, right? For ETA, yeah. It felt like a huge story. It felt like a big moment. But there was a sense that there was this tension as well. Obviously for you guys, it was, you were realising something that you wanted to do. And yeah, there was approval from Jackson and other members of like the London restaurant industry and it felt exciting. And then on the other hand, you've got people mourning the loss of this thing that they loved in the way that it was. But I was surprised then when I spoke to you because you were like, I kind of don't give a fuck about what I did this day. I don't because those customers for some people was quite in the Stardrick spot. And I don't speak on their behalf who were nice customers. A lot of them would just treat the restaurant like a toilet. They didn't respect the hours, the graft, they'd barely tip. They wanted to spend little and get as much as they could like an open buffet.
Right. And I was like, "Fuck you. I don't know you anything. Go eat somewhere else." You just want to exploit this. People have this perception when you're like an immigrant. I'm not an immigrant. I was born dorset and obviously, but like second generation. But people have like, back then, I had this perception of like, you know, if you're a Bengali restaurant, if you're a Turkish restaurant, you should be grateful that I've come in and you should be plating up massive heaps of food for me and I want bang from a buck. And it's like, "Fuck you." Like, Turkish cuisine is so developed, so vast, so rich. Like, we don't owe you anything. And those types of customers were most of the types I'd interact with. And for them, honestly, couldn't care less how they felt. It wasn't my vision. I grew up obsessed with food. My favorite TV shows were like, "Key Floyd, Rick Stein." I wasn't just some person who just ran a restaurant cabab shop because that was my dream. I had a bigger vision of what food should be. I wanted the same experience. I felt the excitement I felt, dining somewhere for people to come to mine and feel the same. You can't please everyone all the time. And that's the realisation I came to quite early on and that's been quite liberating. Yeah, it felt like you decided to please yourself. Yeah, which is like, "I'm a very selfless person in my personal life and my friendships and family." And I think a lot of what I've touched upon, you know, I've sacrificed a lot to keep my family's business afloat. I don't think about myself enough. But in that instance, I was like, "I want to do what my brother and I want to do." And I'd kick back from a lot of people. My own dad, yeah. First were the neighbouring restaurants. They were horrific. They were so rude to us. Some sent like mafia type people to try and scare us off from changing the menu and everything that they're all quite scared of what we were doing because they thought that that would affect them. In hindsight, they gained from that because we lost those customers. They dispersed into the other eateries. So it was a good filtration system for us. But at the time when we were changing things up, people would just come into the restaurant, mid-building, building works and drills and whatever and be like, "What the fuck are you doing?" "What does his dad think? Don't change it too much." And I'm like, "I don't even know you. Like, fuck off." You mentioned your dad. I'm curious to know how the conversation did you sort of pitch the vision? We did. We did. And you know, I understand him because he spent 23, 24 years and prior to that another four, five years with Mangal 1. He had a certain vision. The funny thing is, at the time he was a pioneer. He brought the first or drug busher to the UK. We were like, we were his descendants and we were actually doing something quite similar, but in a different way, we were pioneering the way he had. Took him a while to get on board. And he got to the point where he was like, "Look, I don't get it, but fair on you both." It seems to work. Yeah, I'm proud of you both. But at the time he was just fretful, he was scared, which I understand actually because what we were doing was very removed from everything he'd known. And then it opened in this new vein. How was it then running the restaurant like that? What was the. Oh man, every day was a school day for me. You know, I went from having Turkish and Bulgarian staff to English staff and like contracts and like, you know, everything was like legit. Everything was like different. Everything was like structured. For me it was like, "Whoa, really eye-opening." Presumably then the customer base sort of changed again and we started getting different types of customers. Yeah. What was the sort of perception and feedback on the food? And obviously you had like a new wine list and that kind of thing. We had a clear division. So I'd touched food, me, wine and service. It was exciting for me, you know, discovering at the time natural wine. It was a big fad back then. Venturing on that journey and I just became really obsessive with wine and really resonated with it. And that became a big part of my, I guess, occupation of identity. But was the restaurant busy? Busy. Lots of like fashion heads and all this new customer clientele coming in. And then prior to lockdown, the year before we recorded something of action, Bronson. Fuck that's delicious. That came out a month or two after we relaunched. And then the J Rainer review came out and it was just like, bedlam. I was liking it to like musicians, like a band, right? And then chipping away, practicing, practicing, practicing for years, finding their sounds. And then they released this album and it's like, fuck, we're on tour, you know, we've hit it. And it felt like that. Like every day I felt like I was on tour. Really? Yeah. Exciting, energising or? Yeah, and training and hedonistic. And then, you know, you get all the lock-ins and you get all the, you know, you weren't allowed to socialise then, right? And, you know, we'd just be getting fucked up every day in the garden and stuff like that. It got too much for me. I was a bit older than everyone else. I was like, it was a wild time. You weren't tempted to fire Twitter back up. You know what? I wanted to move on from that. It got to the point where I was like, I'm really proud of what we do. And I don't want to like turn that into satire. And then I found a new voice through like, then it was like Instagram captions for describing the food, which somewhat like melodic poetic sort of speak about what we're doing. I've since stopped doing that because the algorithm just doesn't work and, you know, that's then gone to my newsletters, I guess. I was just like, you know, fuck it. Like, Twitter served its purpose, let's burn the art, whether it was, and then start fresh, you know. I don't really like to look back as I say and I just just move with the times. And also, I've got a good instinct for quitting things at the right time. Twitter then became X. Thank God I left that cesspit. You mentioned just now about the response from the wider community and the other Turkish restaurants in the area. Curious and I think Jonathan as well as curious about your perception and how you feel about your place within the wider like Turkish restaurant scene and how that has changed. And you obviously tried to do something or did do something kind of revolutionary and innovative. And then you've got similar things happening like in terms of like modernizing people's understanding of Turkish cuisine on Greenlands. Jonathan wrote about Metin for a couple of years ago. How do you feel about this scene and like London's Turkish cuisine? I'm, and if you're often asked a question a few years ago, I'd be very frustrated with the lack of inventiveness. And now I'm really happy. Turkish people have tapped onto something where the menus used to be so broad and vast and they're all similar. And like even Greenlands, for me something died when Hullar, a restaurant I used to go to when it was a tiny place, when I started putting like nuggets or whatever on the menu. I was just like, fuck sake. And then I was just trying to do everything. But now you get kerf-dij-mitin, you get the amazing array of like Tantunni sports, even Hiding-Geor-Rudgesur, like the soup sport. What frustrated me is the Turks in London do not represent the Turks in Turkey. In Turkey, similar to Japan, you get a master and ulster and you specialise in something and you do it your whole life. And a lot of our cuisine is like that. You go to a sport specific for one dish. And I might have like six dishes total, but like you go for that one thing. That's real Turkish dining culture, whereas in London a lot of these people weren't from a culinary background. They just saw other restaurants being busy and thought I can make a quick buck without really understanding hospitality and something got lost along the way. But with that oversaturation, birthed other people who were like, well, I'm from this region in Turkey and we specialise in this dish. Say, they're from Marcin and they specialise in Tantunni. I'm going to open a tiny Tantunni place in Pondazend or West Green Road, whatever. And I'm going to just do that. I'm just going to be amazing. I respect those people and I respect that direction of travel so much and I think that's the way forward. I really do. And I know what we do is in traditional Turkish, but then that's my background. I'm a Londoner first and foremost. I want to say to the people that I resonate with. Something with like Turkish Anatolian undertones, but with like something quintessentially London. Do you think at this point then London's got its own Turkish cuisine style? Yeah, it does and it's not very representative of like, well, it isn't, it isn't, of Turkish restaurants in Turkey. There isn't a lot of specialisation. There's just a broad range of cababs and mezzan. And you know what, I love that. I go and eat in those places all the time because it's nostalgic for me. But it's the same thing and I'm 99% certain people have got Chinese descent, so the same thing about Chinese restaurants in the UK and you know, people of Indian descent will say the same about Indian restaurants in the UK and it's the story is all this time really. Yeah. I want to move on to what I'm terming your spilling the. I guess maybe you'd argue you've been spilling the tea forever but like it feels like over the last 12 months your newsletter which you write from the Mangalty website I do. The nature of your blogs feels like the gloves are off a bit. So there's one in particular from September of this year titled Foco's Modern World which I expect you've had some feedback on. This is about some particular incident where you receive a sort of tirade of racist and very personal abuse from a well-known and celebrated respiratory who you refer only to as Foco in the post. People should read this blog for themselves. It's shocking and upsetting. I'm keen to understand like what made you write about that episode now 10 years after it happened. I held on to it for a long time and early this year I was of the mindset and maybe going to sell this restaurant if I can and just get out of this industry. Currently I'm in two ways about it. Things are slightly better, making sort of incremental changes so I don't know what the future holds. Things happened and I feel like some places are very well protected because they're very well respected because of what they stand for the general sector and that's all well and good but when the conduct of someone has been hushed under the carpet for maybe decades and writing what I wrote a lot of people quickly picked on to who it was. I had so many messages I was very blown away because I thought my experiences were quite unique to me. It wasn't and very prominent figures in the industry. Even after this podcast, if that individual were to come after me they'd be war because I now know so many individuals who have their own, it'd be like a Weinstein moment. I just thought you know what? You were actually a parent towards me. I was just a young man and I was trying to do my best in this situation and you said things you shouldn't have said to any individual. Let alone someone you don't know and I don't think that's cool. And I don't like cancel culture. I really don't. I find it quite self-serving and righteous where people tend to act very wholly in them though. It's not my nature to be like oh my god cancel ex-person because people are fallible as you say. People have flaws and people. But then writing that and seeing the amount of people that were like oh my god have I got stories for you. Oh my god. Is this person isn't it? Because I fucking knows this person. I was like wow this person is actually a monster. We should probably actually like for those who haven't read it. I know I've encouraged everyone to read it for themselves but if it's okay like specifically what happened it was about you recommended a Wein to this. Well though this. Yeah and he was immediately like a bit this is shit. And I was like oh okay cool. Sorry. And then I think that set them off. And then completely unannounced no other context came and sat down on the end table where I was situated after doing all the serving and running around foulers. And just went off on a really really personally racist tirade about not knowing the thing about me or my family but making general racist sweeping assumptions about Turkish men and Turkish families and how they treat women and how they treat their wives. And just really like really out of nowhere started saying very personal things about me and my family that were very baseless and cruel. I was like aghast. I was like what the fuck? What whether that come from Jesus. I was looking around me like it's almost like an out of body experience like that really just happened. And then they left the whole party left. I was trying to like decompress like articulate what I was just exposed to. Then they came back and tried to say the same things again but at which point I regained all my sensibilities and then I was like I'm paraphrasing but basically I was like don't ever fucking talk to me like that. You don't know a single thing about me like who the fuck do you think you are. Get the fuck out my restaurant and then that sort of like sobered them up a bit and they were like look look I think that person is not used to being spoken to that way because even when he was like saying the things that he was saying a few of his like staff were like oh that's just fucko being fucko don't take it to heart. I was like Jesus Christ. There's a big like hush hush culture in his place isn't there. If you guys have normalized racism and abuse and not cool you know and then when I told him to you know clear off then they were stunned they were like who's this guy telling me to do you know who I am kind of like and I was like get the fuck out now get the fuck out my restaurant if I do something and they left. He was like could you call me a tax? I was like fuck you get your own tax is a cab off of course they get out I don't hit on people you know. But like you know sometimes get the fuck out before I do something and then they're lucky for them left. But then I sort of held on to this and this restaurant is really big popular whatever and every time I see something related them kind of irks me. Yeah maybe it's the reputation of that restaurant is perhaps as much to do with storytelling and yeah yeah as it is about the food itself which as you well know that is a part of large sort of part of running a restaurant. To experience such a horrible moment and then to be constantly watching sort of universal celebration of an institution and see that go and like the thing that you know go unchecked and to exist must have been I'm sure deeply frustrating. Do you feel a sense of catharsis having written about it like what like yeah I guess um to know that other people also makes me sad. It doesn't make me feel better I just feel like oh what this person has been horrible to multitude of people throughout their life what makes me sad for them to have everything at your disposal and still be a horrible you know I just don't understand that psyche you're part of a restaurant institution that's globally celebrated influential whatever why do you have to be an absolute asshole why what's missing what's there to unpick here like can't just be nice to people can't just I'm sure you're not alone in not understanding it in the fuck oh blog you right you also right I am but a mere individual running a business alone in brackets Lord knows for how much longer I've got to ask then you've mentioned already you've it's 50 50 on your mind about whether you carry on the restaurant where's your head at my head don't give up we've just launched a lunch menu last week and that's really taken off like a set lunch yeah 25 pounds ahead you get a whole like array of dishes it's really generous but it's also profitable for us which is fundamental so that's giving me hope we're always busy this time of year we're very busy now thankfully because I think we're quite a seasonal restaurant really yeah we're not busy in the summers and it's because it's a hot restaurant like temperature wise hot big grill you know our customers are quite homogenous they're all the way at the same time they'll go to Glaston breed they're all in the pub gardens and the parks and that our fresco dining spots when there's a heat wave and then when it's cold they'll come back right so accepting that knowing that trying to combat that balance that is very important for me I still harbour hope that it can continue going for a while longer but I'm also for the first time this year realize well this this might not be sustainable forever and it's not personal it's the general economy you know it's like the year the government projected one in ten restaurants was closed down that's not insignificant and which ones will survive ones that have backers investors venture capitalists whatever buying up real estate left right and centre you know we all know the ones and then there's another bug wear of mine the PR overdrive so it feels like there's a dozen restaurants that have PR in their pockets and it's a choice that PR or not I don't want PR because I'm confident I'm fat hearted area cannot be arrogant but like I have a voice I have a vision I have some sort of standing with how I project my restaurant I'm sure a lot of restaurant owners don't have the same creative outlets or social media savvy that I do I guess which is understandable but like I would never be you know at the behest of a PR agency who don't know a single fucking thing about my family or my history and my background or anything and trying to speak for me never gonna happen but these PR agencies they're all regurgitate the same thing you know top jaw they feature people who live in an echo chamber who regurgitate the same spots and I've benefited from top jaw Pierre Kaufman said would the most underrated restaurant in London my good friend Patrick Powell like best dessert said my brothers teeny tired you know I've benefited from top jaw so I'm not trying to be a hypocrite here. But generally,
really speaking, where's your representation of London? So we've been like a two-mile radius of central London and Soho and Shoreditch. That's not London, and I'm not here, not because I'm on vitals and I'm, you know, I'm brown-nosing, but what vitals does, and London feeds itself phenomenal book, it actually really encompasses the actual city, actual representation of the multitude of boroughs, areas, ethnicities, cuisines, the range of like really, really accessible, low-end pricing to high-end and it's hearts in the right place. As more in line with my values, that's kind of how I feel. So Jonathan Nunn has voice noted in, he couldn't be here today, but he, I know he really wanted to ask you some quick fire. This is the quick fire round from Jonathan, so over to Jonathan. Hi, it's Jonathan. Sorry I couldn't be there today, but I prepared a list of quick fire questions for you. You can give one word answers or expand on your reasoning, whichever you're more comfortable with. So here we go, one, a dana or chop-sheesh. Oh, I don't know all the way, all the way. Two, mango one or jeric two. I'm going to say jeric because I know the owner is a very nice people. Three, direct tantuny or negeotantuny. Okay, I like duraq when I want like a plain tantuny. Negeot has that edge because they, there's a bit more detail there. Four, green lanes are n-filled. N-filled all the way. Five, kelepaccia or isgenbe? Isgenbe is my favourite soup. Six, Turks or Kurds. Turquier. Seven, Gilbert or George? I'd say Gilbert, we always had a similar sense of humour. I hope the answer to that one was neither, they're both boring tourist. I'm full dupes now. As has become customary on this podcast and I apologise to all of our listeners because I worry that this is somewhat lost in translation because we're not yet on video but soon come and hopefully in the new year we will be on YouTube. But I have asked, as I've asked the previous guests on the podcast to bring in a food stuff. So I asked for her to bring in something to talk about. What have you brought? I made a traditional Turkish toastie with English white bread, which is traditional to me and I guess that sort of encapsulates mango too. I grew up on this, it's got kash kaval cheese, butter, chili flakes and swujuk slices. I have it a few times a week. I used to make it as a child. I've had it in Turkey and I've had it in my home in London constantly. It's just very nostalgic for me. Do you make it in a brevel? Or like a. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, full of griddles, you know, or the. Yeah, it's just. I don't know the way the cheese oozes out. You can have it like one of my favourite places in the world is having a Snuka Club. They make it there. You can place a Snuka, have that back when I should drink, you just get, you know, pint of Fs or now get pint of coke. With this whilst the football's on, sometimes I rock up there on my own. I just want to place some Snuka watch football. And it's just nice. It's a nice snack. It just hits the spot every time. It's almost like having a mini calzone or pizza. But it's quintessentially Turkish with like warburton's bread. I think that's pretty much who I am to a tea. Perfect. Yeah. Perhaps thanks so much for coming. It's been a pleasure to talk to you and yeah, I've been wanting to do this for a long time so I really appreciate you coming on and good luck with the next chapter I look forward to watching how it falls. Thank you very much for the great therapy session. Good. I was just saying it but we should have had you laying down. Honestly, I'll talk about my mum next. Okay, thank you everyone for listening today. We hope you enjoyed today's conversation with Fahar and Jonathan's Quick Fire. And for this year, thank you very much to everybody who's listened and to our guests who've come on the show. To our amazing producer Lucie Deelov who puts this all together and to Young Space in Dubovar where we record the podcast. We really appreciate everybody who's taken the time to listen to this podcast. We've thoroughly enjoyed doing it. We've got big plans for the new year as I've said and we're looking forward to having some special guests with us for the aduration of 2026. We hope everybody has a great festive time. And the people are feeling refreshed and ready to hear from Vittles in the new year. We'll see you then. Thank you very much. Bye bye.
Podcast Summary
Key Points:
Ferhat Dirik, owner of Mangal 2 in Dalston, London, started working at his family’s Turkish restaurant at age 11, initially in the basement kitchen, to spend time with his father.
He took over the restaurant full-time at age 25, after working in media roles, driven by family duty and a passion for the business.
The restaurant evolved from a local community hub to a mainstream London dining destination, adapting to Dalston’s gentrification while maintaining its traditional Turkish identity.
Ferhat pioneered a personal, first-person Twitter voice for the restaurant, which boosted its profile and drew customers.
He discusses challenges including competition from similar Turkish restaurants, declining customer behavior during the area’s hedonistic phase, and the strain of running a family business.
Summary:
In this podcast episode, Ferhat Dirik, owner of Mangal 2 in Dalston, London, shares his journey with the family-run Turkish restaurant. He began working there at age 11 in the basement kitchen, motivated by a desire to spend time with his father and a strong work ethic instilled by his immigrant background. After earning a degree and working in media (including at the Mail Online and Vice), Ferhat took over the restaurant at 25 when his father retired, feeling a deep connection to the place and a sense of duty.
He describes how Mangal 2 evolved alongside Dalston’s gentrification, shifting from a local spot for families to a trendy destination for a hipster crowd. Ferhat also pioneered a distinctive, personal Twitter voice for the restaurant, which helped it stand out and attract customers. He reflects on the challenges of operating in a competitive environment, including price wars with nearby Turkish restaurants and a period of poor customer behavior driven by the area’s hedonistic nightlife.
Despite these difficulties, Mangal 2 has remained a beloved institution, and Ferhat continues to navigate the pressures of the London restaurant industry while preserving his father’s legacy.
FAQs
Mangal 2 is a family-run Turkish restaurant in Dalston, North London, known for its traditional cuisine and cult following. It was opened by Ferhat's father Ali Dirik in 1994.
Ferhat started working at age 11, initially in the basement kitchen on Saturdays, to spend time with his father. He cooked pan-fried dishes and eventually moved to front-of-house as a teenager.
Ferhat ran the restaurant's Twitter account with a personal, conversational voice, discussing topics like Arsenal and politics alongside kebabs. It helped increase the restaurant's visibility and attracted customers during Dalston's hipster era.
As Dalston transformed from a high-crime area to a creative hub, Mangal 2's customer base shifted from families to a younger, trendier crowd. Ferhat made the restaurant more casual by removing tablecloths and ties.
Many similar Turkish restaurants opened on the same street, offering cheaper menus and BYOB, which squeezed Mangal 2's profit margins. Ferhat noted that customers often prioritized drinking over the food experience.
Ferhat took over at age 25, around 2014-2015, after his father retired. He had previously worked in media while helping at the restaurant, and decided to run it full-time when his father asked him to.
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