The Friday Market, Kitchens and the Flavors Collected Over the Years
One of the things I love most about living in Kaş is that life here still moves a little slowly. The way people genuinely say "good morning" to each other on an early walk to the market, the smell of tomatoes overflowing from the crates, fresh herbs passing from hand to hand... After a while, this becomes more than just shopping — it becomes ritual.
But for me, Kaş is not just beautiful streets and sea views. It is also the place where I have spent most of the past 10 years in kitchens. I can safely say I have worked in most of the restaurants in Kaş. I know the pre-service rush, the morning preparations, the late-night closings, the heat rising in the kitchen very well. So when I sit down in a restaurant, I don't just look at it as a customer — I also feel the effort, the order, the soul of the kitchen.
The Kaş market is still where all my food ideas begin. But before I start cooking, eating the aubergine and minced meat gözleme from the Barak Women's Cooperative at the market is a ritual — then on with the day. Whatever the season brings, the kitchen follows. A herb I spot at a stall sometimes changes the entire direction of a menu. There is a real connection with ingredients here. People know which field their tomatoes came from; they tell you the story of the olive oil while letting you taste it.
And over the years, certain dishes have become a part of Kaş for me.
The classic mixed toast at Atom Büfe, for instance. It's a reminder that sometimes the best things are very simple. Whether I'm hungry late at night, after a swim, or during a quick break — it always gives me the same feeling: comfort.
The schnitzel burger at Barla's is one of my favourites. Perfectly balanced, genuinely satisfying, and a dish with real character.
The pişi plate at Taş Bahçe feels like a symbol of long, unhurried breakfasts. The kind you sit down for and linger over for hours with tea.
The shrimp fava at Manos... I think it's one of those dishes that speaks to how the sea and the kitchen come together in a place like Kaş. Light, but it stays with you.
And Taşra... For me, that's not just a restaurant — it's the feeling of an entire evening. A long dinner, good conversation, and being able to trust almost everything on the menu is a rare thing. Some places don't just become somewhere you eat; they leave a spirit in your memory.
I don't think a good restaurant only makes good food. A good restaurant changes your sense of time. It makes you forget the rush. If you find yourself sitting at a table a little longer than usual, that is the right place.
Perhaps that's why I love Kaş. Because there are still real things here. Real tomatoes, real conversations, genuinely well-cooked food.
And sometimes all a person needs is a few ingredients from the market, a well-set table, and an evening close to the sea.
See also: My Grandmother's Antep Kitchen · Family Cooking Workshop in Kaş · Is a Private Chef Worth It? · Private Chef at Your Villa in Kaş