Latest news with #Korede
Forbes
22-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Forbes
5 Standout Korean Restaurants In Kadıköy, Istanbul
Yeldeğirmeni is an up-and-coming neighborhood on the Asian side, Kadikoy. It has a very old history and traditional life is still ongoing. This traditional neighborhood has hosted different ethnicities such as Armenians, Jews and Greeks since the 15th hip and trendy places are increasing day by day. getty There are not a lot of East Asian restaurants in Istanbul compared to other European countries — but that doesn't mean you have to skip your craving when visiting the Turkish city, especially if you're looking for Korean cuisine. Partly due to the solidarity between Turkiye and South Korea during the Korean War, where many Turkish soldiers fought and died for South Korea, South Korean food culture is significantly more abundant in Istanbul than, say, Japanese or Chinese, with plenty of excellent Korean restaurants dotting the city. The following Korean restaurants on the Asian side of the city are some of the best in the vicinity, serving up excellent bowls of japchae, bibimbap, kimbap, and more Korean classics: There are a total of five Kore'de locations on the Asian side of Istanbul, including one in the center of Kadıköy. The menu is small but very well executed with standout dishes including classics like kimbap, japchae, Korean fried chicken, and of course t-tteoboki and kimchi. 88Noodle in the Rasimpaşa neighborhood of Kadıköy is another great spot to get your fix of Korean cuisine while in Istanbul. As the name suggests, this fast casual restaurant focuses mainly on noodle dishes like jjamppong and jjajangmyeon, but you'll also find tangsuyuk and kkanpunggi. Located in Bostancı, Jançicip Kore Restoranı is a very charming Korean restaurant with a pretty extensive menu. The restaurant has been serving everything from bulgogi and bibimbap to classic ramyon and japchae since first opening its doors back in 2020. NokTTok Asian Street Food NokTTok Asian Street Food includes classic street food staples from Korea and beyond, including rabokki and ramyon. You'll also find Japanese, Thai, and Chinese-inspired street food dishes like edamame, dumplings, bao buns, and Pad Thai. Koreköy Korean Restaurant&Cafe Koreköy Korean Restaurant&Cafe is a laidback dine-in restaurant with a charming indoor/outdoor patio. The menu includes classics like bibimbap, japchae, and bulgogi, but there's also a very large kimbap menu which includes vegetarian options as well. Koreköy also includes one of the best selections of Korean desserts in the neighborhood.
Yahoo
19-03-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Shadows, Ballet Black: What would you do if your sister kept killing people?
You're a young nurse, and you have a beautiful, confident sister. You love her, but there's just one problem. To date, she has murdered three boyfriends in what she insists is 'self-defence', and summoned you to clear up the mess. Just how many times can you find yourself reaching for the rubber gloves before the whole thing gets a bit much? And, now that your sis has started seeing a doctor you secretly adore, where do your loyalties really lie? Such is the simple but strong premise of My Sister, The Serial Killer, one of two premieres that make up Ballet Black's brooding new double-bill, Shadows. About 50 pithy minutes straight through, the piece is an adaptation, by BB's founder and artistic director Cassa Pancho, of the gallows-humorous 2019 bestseller of the same name by Oyinkan Braithwaite, essentially an elaborate riff on the dictum that you may be able to choose your friends, but you sure can't choose your family. With a little (ok, quite a bit) more money, Pancho might have been enjoyably able to preserve the book's bustling Lagos setting. As it is, the piece plays out in a present-day everytown, with lighting and a handful of props working hard to set the scene, along with a cinematic score by Tom Harrold. Part neo-classical, part contemporary, it plunges us straight in medias res, with Korede (Isabela Coracy, dancing and acting her heart out) steeling herself for what she knows she's about to find: Ayoola (Helga Paris-Morales), in a blood-soaked nightdress, with a fresh cadaver just inches away. Out, yet again, comes the Cillit Bang... That spirit of pithy, punchy storytelling continues, with the gentle romantic promise of Korede's lyrical little duet with the doctor Tade (Ebony Thomas) soon cruelly swept away by his and Ayoola's whiz-bang first meeting. Instantly, the potentially blood-soaked love triangle is set up, with Puerto Rico-born Paris-Morales displaying not only the come-hither physical slinkiness but also the looks to convince as this most fatale of femmes. (The work feels in many ways like a fusion-in-dance of the neo-noir film Basic Instinct and friendly-serial-killer telly series Dexter, which can only be a Good Thing.) There's also an impeccably staged party scene, with Ayoola coolly poisoning a fellow in a boudoir while a clutch of revellers groove seductively in the room next door to Toots and the Maytals' 1968 reggae classic 54-46 That's My Number (a song I've particularly loved ever since winning a battle of the bands with it, though that's a story for another time). And Pancho also capitalises on her art form to serve up two melodramatic but still gripping nightmare scenes, which lay bare Korede's efforts to process her and Ayoola's actions. Ultimately, it is the evident closeness of the two leads' relationship that carries this outlandish story plausibly along and keeps you hooked. It's enjoyable pulp fiction in the main, though there is a deeper point at its core: if a beloved family member did something horrific, what would you do? (Rating: * * * *) The opening piece, A Shadow Work, is about the same length as My Sister... but feels longer. The British debut of New Yorker Chanel DaSilva, it delves into the titular works of 'shadow work', the Jungian practice of therapeutically laying bare the subconscious. I enjoyed Taraja Hudson's lead, vividly exploiting DaSilva's protean choreography, and Acaoã de Castro as the psychological Virgil to her Dante; neat use, too, of an old-school document box as a metaphor for suppressed emotions. What it lacks is a sense of progress, of really going somewhere – by the end, the promise of the concept and earlier scenes has rather fizzled, however capable the collective performances. (* * *) Still, treat it as a mood-darkening amuse-bouche for the knife-wielding main event, and you're likely to have a good evening. The Hackney Empire audience certainly did, never mind the fact that the entire bill was somehow cobbled together while the company was unenviably between bases. Not for the first time, hats off to BB. At Hackney until March 15, then touring until July;
The Guardian
19-03-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
‘Like seeing an old friend': Oyinkan Braithwaite on My Sister, the Serial Killer becoming a ballet
One dead body. Two sisters. Two pairs of yellow gloves. The wiping away of the evidence; one sister efficiently, the other lazily. And in the background, an enigmatic score. So begins the Ballet Black adaptation of my debut novel, My Sister, the Serial Killer. I have dreamed of it coming to life via various visual mediums – film, TV, as a musical, as a play. Not once did I consider it as a ballet production. And not because I don't love the medium – in a former life I joined a ballet school, which we won't dwell on here – but because, in creating this story, I focused heavily on dialogue and a ballet is essentially wordless. Still, when I was approached by Ballet Black, I was intrigued. Ballet Black is a company founded by Cassa Pancho, with the mission to showcase diversity on stage and promote inclusivity for Black and Asian content. And perhaps, because of that, the perfect company to handle my story, which is set in Nigeria – a majority black environment. Cassa directs the adaptation and her vision for it is clear. The plot is truncated, keeping only the elements required to get the story across in a 50-minute production – the murderous femme fatale, the put-upon sister, the doctor caught between them, the endless male victims and the knife at the heart of it all. The first time I watched the performance, I was moved to tears. Ayoola, played to perfection by Helga Paris-Morales, entered the scene, and it was like seeing a friend from decades past. I would have known her anywhere. Certainly, there were differences – this Ayoola is more 'psychotic' – but the way she carried herself, the way she twisted her waist, the little shakes of her hips, the long, slow smiles, the playfulness, the teasing; all Ayoola. During her pas de deux with Dr Tade, played by Ebony Thomas, she allows him to feel in control, to pull her closer, and reach for her as she dances on pointe around him. Then there's Korede, the protagonist in my story and in this ballet, and the more complex of the two sisters. Korede is played by the gifted Isabela Coracy. Isabela takes the character and illustrates her seriousness, her vulnerability and her pain. The agony can be seen in the way she hugs her body, and hunches her normally elongated form. Cassa was particularly insightful in giving Korede's demons life via the talented dancers that surround her, tug at her, torment her and pull her down into their harrowing depths. And the team's attention to detail is truly impressive. One example: Ayoola's poisoning of her lover's drink perfectly synced to the beat of Toots and the Maytals' 54-46 Was My Number. And they nod to the source material's culture in the inclusion of Fela Kuti's Water No Get Enemy, a wonderful accompaniment to the original score by composer Tom Harrold which managed to be jaunty, mystical and compelling. I also thoroughly appreciated the authentic look of the Nigerian police uniform, courtesy of costume designer Jessica Cabassa. My Sister, the Serial Killer is part of a double bill with Chanel DaSilva's A Shadow Work, a more abstract piece saturated with strong routines. There is so much of note – the thumping/fluttering of hands to chest, the helicopter spins the dancers perform, the arms swinging in pendulum style, the fixed smiling faces that could not be any creepier, the futuristic score and the silent, musicless communication at the centre of the piece. It is a work that explores the struggle when trying to come to terms with one's inner demons or alter ego. There is certainly a link that can be made with My Sister, the Serial Killer. It goes without saying that I am highly biased towards this adaptation but I was not alone. Behind me, I heard a woman mutter 'psycho bitch' at one of Ayoola's actions. And I often caught the odd gasp. My husband, who is as familiar with the ins and outs of My Sister, the Serial Killer as I am, laughed several times. The performance was engaging, cheeky, funny, an excellent way to spend the evening with family, friends or even on your own – it won't matter because you'll be sucked in by the narrative and the bodies pirouetting effortlessly across the stage. At Birmingham Rep on 27-28 March, then touring
The Independent
15-03-2025
- Entertainment
- The Independent
Shadows, Ballet Black creates a ‘haunting' dance spectacle in ‘handsome' double bill
Ballet Black has adapted Oyinkan Braithwaite's novel My Sister, The Serial Killer with irresistible verve, making murder dreadfully relatable. It's a marvel of deft dance storytelling as it mixes stylish dancing and witty characterisation. Paired with Chanel DaSilva's A Shadow Work, it makes a handsome double bill. Ballet Black was created to advocate for Black and Asian dancers, but this small, adventurous company has always punched well above its weight in creating new works. Choreographed by founder Cassa Pancho, My Sister, The Serial Killer shows off the dancers' charisma and versatility. Isabela Coracy is a superb Korede, the put-upon big sister who always has her sister's back, up to and including arriving with bleach and rubber gloves to clean up after the latest murder. In public, there's an emphatic edge to Coracy's dancing, which melts away when we see glimpses of her private self. Working with Ebony Thomas's handsome doctor, she spins into a dancefloor fantasy; as the story darkens, we see her wrestle with her nightmares. As her sister, Ayoola, Helga Paris-Morales soaks up admiration, turning towards male attention or to her phone camera like a flower seeking the sun. There's a hilarious sense that murder is just part of her flirtation routine; she sways her hips as she gets out the poison bottle. Pancho and her dancers make telling details shine. When Ayoola reaches out to the doctor, we notice the bracelet, a gift from a previous victim, sparkling on her wrist. The sisters' bone-deep relationship is the heart of the ballet. Coracy and Paris-Morales are wonderfully at home with each other. Bickering over favourite songs layered into Tom Harrold's pacy score, they flip from irritation to fondness in a second. Pancho and associate choreographer Jacob Wye build up a compelling world around them, from daily life at the hospital to social dancing at parties. Richard Bolton's sets and Jessica Cabassa's bright costumes are simple but precise. The ballet has a wilder side, too, as dreams haunt Korede or dancers transform into the river where the sisters dump a body. There's a different kind of haunting in DaSilva's A Shadow Work. Taraja Hudson dances alone, with fluid steps and bold gestures. Dark-clad dancers then emerge around her, aspects of herself that she can accept or push away. As the lead shadow, Acaoã de Castro presses his forehead into her hand, or produces a sinister box, a place for emotional baggage. It's an episodic work, but DaSilva's choreography is fluent, both in Hudson's introspective solos and in the massed dances for the crowd of shadows.
Telegraph
15-03-2025
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
Shadows, Ballet Black: What would you do if your sister kept killing people?
You're a young nurse, and you have a beautiful, confident sister. You love her, but there's just one problem. To date, she has murdered three boyfriends in what she insists is 'self-defence', and summoned you to clear up the mess. Just how many times can you find yourself reaching for the rubber gloves before the whole thing gets a bit much? And, now that your sis has started seeing a doctor you secretly adore, where do your loyalties really lie? Such is the simple but strong premise of My Sister, The Serial Killer, one of two premieres that make up Ballet Black 's brooding new double-bill, Shadows. About 50 pithy minutes straight through, the piece is an adaptation, by BB's founder and artistic director Cassa Pancho, of the gallows-humorous 2019 bestseller of the same name by Oyinkan Braithwaite, essentially an elaborate riff on the dictum that you may be able to choose your friends, but you sure can't choose your family. With a little (ok, quite a bit) more money, Pancho might have been enjoyably able to preserve the book's bustling Lagos setting. As it is, the piece plays out in a present-day everytown, with lighting and a handful of props working hard to set the scene, along with a cinematic score by Tom Harrold. Part neo-classical, part contemporary, it plunges us straight in medias res, with Korede (Isabela Coracy, dancing and acting her heart out) steeling herself for what she knows she's about to find: Ayoola (Helga Paris-Morales), in a blood-soaked nightdress, with a fresh cadaver just inches away. Out, yet again, comes the Cillit Bang... That spirit of pithy, punchy storytelling continues, with the gentle romantic promise of Korede's lyrical little duet with the doctor Tade (Ebony Thomas) soon cruelly swept away by his and Ayoola's whiz-bang first meeting. Instantly, the potentially blood-soaked love triangle is set up, with Puerto Rico-born Paris-Morales displaying not only the come-hither physical slinkiness but also the looks to convince as this most fatale of femmes. (The work feels in many ways like a fusion-in-dance of the neo-noir film Basic Instinct and friendly-serial-killer telly series Dexter, which can only be a Good Thing.) There's also an impeccably staged party scene, with Ayoola coolly poisoning a fellow in a boudoir while a clutch of revellers groove seductively in the room next door to Toots and the Maytals' 1968 reggae classic 54-46 That's My Number (a song I've particularly loved ever since winning a battle of the bands with it, though that's a story for another time). And Pancho also capitalises on her art form to serve up two melodramatic but still gripping nightmare scenes, which lay bare Korede's efforts to process her and Ayoola's actions. Ultimately, it is the evident closeness of the two leads' relationship that carries this outlandish story plausibly along and keeps you hooked. It's enjoyable pulp fiction in the main, though there is a deeper point at its core: if a beloved family member did something horrific, what would you do? (Rating: * * * *) The opening piece, A Shadow Work, is about the same length as My Sister... but feels longer. The British debut of New Yorker Chanel DaSilva, it delves into the titular works of 'shadow work', the Jungian practice of therapeutically laying bare the subconscious. I enjoyed Taraja Hudson's lead, vividly exploiting DaSilva's protean choreography, and Acaoã de Castro as the psychological Virgil to her Dante; neat use, too, of an old-school document box as a metaphor for suppressed emotions. What it lacks is a sense of progress, of really going somewhere – by the end, the promise of the concept and earlier scenes has rather fizzled, however capable the collective performances. (* * *) Still, treat it as a mood-darkening amuse-bouche for the knife-wielding main event, and you're likely to have a good evening. The Hackney Empire audience certainly did, never mind the fact that the entire bill was somehow cobbled together while the company was unenviably between bases. Not for the first time, hats off to BB.
