Bar Gabriel

When choosing the name Bar Gabriel, was “Gabriel” a character trait or a state of mind for you?

Gabriel is my son's name. That's the origin of the name, actually. His name comes from a football player I used to like a long time ago. But what we're trying to create here today is to leave him with something he'll be proud of when he grows up. We want Gabriel to be able to look back and say, "This bore my name."

Bar Gabriel positions itself as a "neighborhood bar," but it also has an international ambition. Do you experience any tension between these two identities?

From the very beginning, we saw ourselves as a traditional Turkish coffeehouse. What we aimed for was the coffeehouse culture of the 80s and 90s; places where people felt comfortable and at home… Back then, families going to coffeehouses was a social event. After the pandemic, the sector became more service-oriented, but this sector is actually about emotions. We wanted to remind people of that feeling that's in their muscle memory.

The global aspect is a bit of a different matter. I've been doing this job for about ten years, and the main thing is to present the local culture to the global audience. Turkey isn't lagging behind in any area. We're trying to show that. In a way, we feel it's a duty.

Has it become more difficult to "remain local" after achieving international recognition?

Actually, it will become even more difficult. We opened with a certain level of recognition already in place. This will have both advantages and disadvantages. But our main goal is to maintain our six-month to one-year guest profile. We don't want to create a clash between the local culture and the culture from outside.

This should be a place where you can come in Crocs on a Saturday night. For example, we serve snacks on a teacup saucer, but our snacks are also very high quality. Because the point is to preserve our roots.

What's the only thing that sets you apart from others on the European stage?

Hospitality.

Because the exact Turkish equivalent of "hospitality" isn't actually "holidaying." In our culture, guests are highly valued. When a guest arrives, you give them the bed, and you sleep on the sofa. That's the biggest difference we've seen abroad.

For us, hospitality is being able to understand people's needs without them having to say anything. While working abroad, I always thought: We are always representing Turkey. And there was a comment we often heard: "We didn't expect Turkish people to be like this."

Because people often think of Turkey as just Sultanahmet. We are now trying to intervene in this. That's why, when an acquaintance comes, we start thinking about everything from their hotel to their experience.

Is what makes a cocktail "good" the technique, the story, or the mood of the person drinking it?

All of them.

When creating a menu, does taste come first, or the idea you want to convey?

Actually, they both lead to the same place. If you're opening a place, you need to pay attention to the product first. But you also have to accept that there are products you can't sell in Turkey. It becomes a bit like menu engineering.

Creating a cocktail isn't as difficult as it seems. Alcohol, water, sugar, and sourness... When you get these four balances right, harmony comes. It's just like learning a language. As my friend Alex Kratena says; making a cocktail is like speaking a language. And to speak that language, you need grammar. The ingredients in the cocktail are actually part of that grammar.

You don't take reservations. Does that create chaos or freedom?

Managing a bar is already a bit about managing chaos. Because you're working on direct customer satisfaction and you need to be able to adapt to instantaneous changes in rhythm.

We're a small shop. A reservation system takes us to a different operation. What we want is for people to be able to come here even in their pajamas. To be able to find you a place the moment you say, "I want to come."

Sometimes people even use the motorbike outside as a table, and we're not bothered by it. What we're proud of is that there isn't a huge gap between the level of service we provide and the clientele we attract. We provide good service, but we don't expect a dress code or any kind of demand in return. Everyone is welcome.

If you were starting from scratch today, would you still create the same concept?

Yes.

Is technical perfection enough to create an unforgettable drink, or is imperfection sometimes necessary?

Seeking perfection is neither entirely good nor entirely bad. But it's very tiring. What's important to us is doing our work with self-respect.

The Japanese have a craftsmanship concept called "shokunin." For example, we try to understand you, even in which hand you pull the chair while you're sitting. We try to understand how your day went, from how you take off your jacket.

But we don't think anyone needs to know what they want to drink when they come here. You don't have to know. We tell you anyway.

Ten years from now, when someone remembers Gabriel, what do you want them to remember; the drinks, the atmosphere, or the feelings he evoked?

My biggest wish is for people to still be coming to Gabriel ten years from now. Even being open until then is a huge thing.

Our t-shirts say "It is a family thing." Because I'm actually the fourth generation in this industry. I didn't want to do it for a long time, but I finally came back. And today I can say that this is the most important project of my life.

This is the biggest investment I've made, not financially, but spiritually and morally. Of course, I want people to remember us fondly. But at the end of the day, if our son is smiling when he talks about us twenty years from now, it will be because of what we're doing here today.