A lot of chicken kebabs are forgettable—under-seasoned, overcooked, underwhelming. And trying to beat the bland by dunking the meat in a typical marinade is a waste of time; the chicken turns mushy before it picks up much seasoning.

Enter yogurt, the ingredient that can do what other marinades can’t.

It’s not surprising that yogurt would feature in a Turkish-style chicken kebab, says Özlem Warren, a cookery teacher whose latest book, “Istanbul: Delicious Recipes from the Heart of the City,” celebrates Istanbul’s diverse culinary scene.

The word yogurt originates from an Old Turkish word, yoğurmak, meaning to thicken or coagulate, and the ingredient shows up in everything from sauces and soups to sweets. “Both my grandmother and mother used yogurt in marinades; it’s a typical preparation in home kitchens,” Warren explained.

To better understand the art of tavuk şiş kebabı, or chicken kebabs, we got a lesson at Karşıyakalı Dürümcü Recep Usta, a modest restaurant in Gaziantep, a city in southeastern Türkiye famous for its rich, spice-forward cooking.

Chef Ahmet Kileci started with boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cut into generous chunks, submerged overnight in a yogurt-based marinade containing olive oil, tomato paste, sweet pepper paste, cumin, sweet pepper flakes, oregano and black pepper. “We marinate the chicken to soften it and add flavor,” he told us. “If we don’t marinate them in the sauce, it stays white and the flavor suffers.”

Yogurt works because its lactic acid gently breaks down muscle fibers without turning the meat mushy the way a strongly acidic marinade can. Meanwhile, the thick dairy base helps spices and flavorings adhere to and penetrate the meat.

For our adaptation, we blended roasted red peppers into the marinade, pureeing everything until smooth, so it clings to the chicken and drives the seasoning deep into the meat. Three hours is the minimum. Twenty-four is better.

Threading matters more than you might expect. Pack the pieces tightly on the skewers rather than spacing them out. The compression keeps the meat moist under the fierce heat of the grill. Kileci cooked over live coals, fanning the air directly above the skewers to keep heat circulating. The result was deeply charred but still juicy chicken.

Warren also notes the importance of live fire: “Char-grilling elevates that marinade into a beautiful coating of caramelization with a touch of smoky exterior. Winning combination!”

At the restaurant, the finished kebabs were wrapped in warm flatbread with grilled vegetables. We paired the chicken with a bright and tangy salad of sliced red onion tossed with parsley, lemon juice, olive oil and sumac. And if grilling’s not an option, we’ve adapted the recipe to work in a broiler; you’ll still get the same deeply flavored, charred-but-tender chicken, thanks to the yogurt, which has already done the hard work.

Ari Smolin

Ari Smolin writes and edits for Milk Street’s magazine and cookbooks. Before joining the team, she baked her way from Brooklyn to Los Angeles—laminating croissants before dawn, shepherding sourdough loaves by the hundreds, and discovering that stone-milled flour plus seasonal fruit is her happy place. She writes about whole-grain baking as well, most recently co-authoring “Morning Baker: Recipes and Rituals for Breakfast and Beyond.” You can find her fruit-and-grain escapades on Instagram @Ari.Smolin. Want to talk flour? Drop her a line at ari.smolin@gmail.com.

Michelle Locke

Michelle Locke is a writer and editor with 25+ years of experience in media and communications. As books editor at Milk Street, she specializes in helping shepherd projects from concept to completion and is known for her dogged, some say relentless, attention to detail. Michelle has a degree in journalism from the University of Texas at Austin. When not updating spreadsheets she spends her time reading, walking and doing laundry.