Food people have a habit of tracking restaurants across borders the way sneakerheads follow limited-edition drops. So, when news came that Babel—Beirut’s cult-classic for next-level Lebanese—was packing its mezzes and making for Marmaris, my flight-search tabs lit up.
Since opening in 2009, Babel has built a culinary empire with the idea of taking authentic Lebanese dishes and serving them in luxe contemporary settings. Think silky hummus showered in jewel-bright pomegranate, charcoal-kissed octopus, and fattoush you would always come back for. Locations in Dubai, Kuwait and Bahrain have already turned the brand into a region-wide shorthand for “let’s do something nice, but still eat real food.”
The Turkish Riviera isn’t short on beaches or fish tavernas, but a seriously good Levantine spot was still missing from the mix. Babel is betting on the city’s rise of design-savvy hotels and yacht-hopping visitors who want dinner with both an Instagram moment and genuine flavour. The new waterfront site (opening early summer 2025) promises open-fire grills, warm Baladi bread on repeat, and nightly live music.
Expect straight-forward Lebanese cooking sharpened for a modern dining room. The raw kibbeh is finely minced with bulgur and seven-spice, glossed with good olive oil and a scatter of fresh herbs—familiar, but tighter and cleaner on the palate. Vine leaves arrive warm, packed with rice, beef and pine nuts, then jolted awake by a lemon-sumac dressing that cuts through the richness. Marmaris’ day-boat grouper or red mullet shows up two ways: folded into Babel’s aromatic sayadieh—rice cooked in fish stock, caramelised onion and baharat—or grilled over mesquite until the flesh just flakes and the skin carries a whisper of smoke.
If previous outposts are a clue, this new space will feature stone and bronze accents, gently looping Arabic percussion, and lighting that flatters both food and diners (read: selfie-friendly; no harsh LEDs). In other words, upscale without the stiff collar—exactly what you crave after a salt-sticky day on the Aegean.
Marmaris already had sunshine, olives and a crazy-blue sea. Now it’s getting labneh swirls, slow jazzed-up dabke beats, and a reason for Lebanese-food obsessives to add one more pin to their culinary map. When Babel opens this summer, book early—and order the eggplant mutabbal. Trust me, it’s the dish locals in Beirut still argue about, and soon the Turkish coast will too.
