Cooked from the sea in front of us.
Raw, salted, grilled and chilled. A seaside kitchen that behaves like a family lunch that never ends, and a bar that treats a cocktail like a small ceremony.
Raw, salted, grilled and chilled. A seaside kitchen that behaves like a family lunch that never ends, and a bar that treats a cocktail like a small ceremony.
Deniz has been running our kitchen since we opened. He trained in Bodrum and Copenhagen and, most importantly, spent every summer of his childhood in Çengelköy. He knows the fishermen by name, buys everything before nine in the morning, and refuses to keep anything on ice longer than a day.
The result is a menu that changes every week — sometimes every service — but always tastes exactly like where you are.
Poured slowly under the pergola, made with figs, herbs and long, honest spirits from the coast.
Cognac, apricot liqueur, saffron infusion, edible flower. Our house cocktail, poured since day one.
Aperol, blood orange, fig leaf syrup, dry prosecco. The one everyone in the cabanas is drinking at seven.
Rakı, cold-pressed cucumber, sea salt, mint. A very Turkish take on a very warm afternoon.
Gin, rose petal, grapefruit, lime, pink pepper. Poured over one clear ice sphere.
Gin, amaro, campari, house orange oil. Stirred, never shaken, always served at eight.
Reposado tequila, pink grapefruit, sea salt, chili syrup. Available only on party nights.
Sixty-four bottles, no more. Aegean naturals, cold whites for lunch, a few serious reds for after dark, and the house rosé we drink faster than we can restock.