At Hamdi—the Ballard restaurant from Istanbul-born chef Berk Guldal and his partner and co-owner Katrina Guldal—you cannot miss the distinctive tool standing upright on the pass, where finished dishes leave the kitchen: a Turkish zirh, the wide, curved blade used specifically for Hamdi’s signature dish, the Adana kebap. Named after a city in southern Turkey, the traditional kebap is built with a precise ratio of lamb, lamb fat, and red peppers. Today, many of the kebaps you’ll find in Turkey are made using shortcuts like meat grinders, but at Hamdi, Guldal accepts nothing less than meat minced by hand with the proper knife. 

“Everything done by hand tastes better than using a machine,” says Guldal. “Using the knife is a more delicate and gentle process, which helps the meat stay together rather than fall apart.” 

A grinder’s auger can heat the fat and crush and smear the meat; the zirh, by contrast, cuts cleanly through fat and protein. The fat remains in distinct pieces distributed throughout the mince, helping it hold its structure over the fire without binders such as eggs, starches, or breadcrumbs.

For chef Berk Guldal, the zirh’s rocking blade offers a gentler cut, keeping the lamb’s fat intact and the mince cohesive over the fire.

Photo by Rachel Ayotte / Bread and Butter Agency

The kebap process at Hamdi takes roughly three days from delivery to plate. The team receives a whole lamb belly from a single source of grass-fed lamb. They break down the lamb belly, remove the silver skin and connective tissue, dice it, then add a fixed ratio of lamb fat to the mix. The crescent-shaped Turkish zirh rocks rhythmically across the cutting board, slicing through the coarse mix of meat, fat, peppers, and Turkish spices until the spices meld with the fat and the entire mix becomes a fine, cohesive mince. 

Reproducing this dish in Seattle turned out to be less about the recipe and more about supply and staffing: finding a farm that raised lamb to Guldal’s standards and training a team to use a knife most of them had never seen. It is a dish that reflects countless hours of research, training, and unwavering dedication. He arrived at the formula and mastered the technique through extensive trial and error—experimenting with different cuts of meat and types of charcoal and adjusting the ratio of meat, fat, and peppers until the mince held together. 

Rows of Adana kebap line flat iron skewers in Hamdi’s open-fire kitchen.

Photo by Rachel Ayotte / Bread and Butter Agency

The mince is pressed by hand onto flat iron skewers and grilled over charcoal to medium. Like its hand-minced kebap, Hamdi’s open-fire cooking reflects the restaurant’s exacting approach. Dishes such as the Adana kebap take on robust flavors and a smoky aroma as flames lick the fat and protein. 

“There are a lot of extra factors and costs that come with cooking over wood and charcoal, but it’s worth it because the flavors are incredible compared to the alternatives,” says Guldal. “It’s not as simple as turning on a switch and having heat—you have to learn how to read the fire and control it just by looking at it.”

Hamdi serves the Adana kebap simply, on housemade lavaş flatbread with a salad of sumac-dressed tomatoes and onion—just enough brightness and freshness to enhance the flavors of the lamb and the flame. The restaurant’s zirh sits upright on a wood block, and behind it, a bright orange flame burns slowly and steadily.