A Wonderful Lahmacun at Dante Barceloneta
Do you know what lahmacun is?
It is one of Anatolia’s most beloved creations, a paper-thin flatbread brushed with a mixture of minced meat, onions, tomatoes, peppers, parsley, and spices, then baked in the heat of a stone oven.
Alongside döner, it is one of Turkey’s most precious culinary treasures, our true fast food, our street food, our comfort.
For years, I believed that a good lahmacun could never exist outside Turkey, just like a proper döner. But I was wrong. Dante Barceloneta has proven otherwise.
Though it may remind some of pizza, lahmacun belongs to another world. Its dough is unleavened, rolled out as thin as silk, and its topping has a delicate balance that no pizza can imitate.
Born from the modest kitchens of Anatolia, lahmacun has ancient roots, but in its modern form it blossomed in cities like Gaziantep, Şanlıurfa, Diyarbakır, and Mardin. Each city added something of its own soul: garlic, walnuts, or a different shade of tomato.
Chef Ozan and Vegetarian Çiğ Köfte
Ayran (Turkish Yogurt-Based Drink)
In Turkey, lahmacun is more than food. It is a piece of our streets, a ritual of sharing.
It always comes with parsley, lemon, and pickled hot peppers. It is quick to eat, simple in form, yet full of emotion. Its aroma fills the air; its crispness is a small pleasure that touches the senses. Even its sound, that gentle crackle when you bite in, carries joy.
But it is also fragile. Once it cools or softens inside a delivery box, its spirit fades away. A good lahmacun is a fleeting moment, and you must catch it at its peak.
I visited Dante twice in 2025, in February and again in October. And I will return soon, simply for that moment, for the lahmacun.
It is not easy to make lahmacun in a pizza oven. Running a kitchen that serves pide, pizza, and lahmacun at once is even harder. Yet Dante’s lahmacun easily reaches the level of a good one in Istanbul. When the oven glows with heat and the base turns perfectly crisp, it becomes something truly special.
Lahmacun
Each time I go, I try a few meze dishes. This time I chose şakşuka, the Turkish kind made from fried eggplant and tomato, not the brunch-style shakshuka with eggs and tomato sauce from Israel or Tunisia. It was excellent, rich, and honest.
On a previous visit, I had tried their vegetarian çiğ köfte, which was also good. I admire that, because finding the right spices, fresh and authentic, must be a real challenge in Barcelona. The farther you are from home, the harder it becomes to stay true to the original. Lamb, especially lamb tail fat, is nearly impossible to find here. That is why my expectations for their minced lamb (Adana) kebab were modest. But every time, I end up ordering it again. And every time, it gets better. From February to October, I could see their progress. Chef Ozan is doing remarkable work.
If there is one thing Dante still needs to improve, it is the floor management.
The more Turkish the flavors become, the better. But Dante also needs stronger, more professional management.
Vegetarian Çiğ Köfte
Minced Lamb (Adana) Kebab
Dante Barceloneta
Carrer de l’Escar, 16, Ciutat Vella, 08039 Barcelona
www.dantebarceloneta.com
Total 7,5/10
Food 9/10
Service 7/10
Comfort & Ambiance 6/10
Value for money 8/10
Price per person 20-30 €
Şakşuka
Şakşuka: The Vibrant Cold Meze of the Mediterranean
Imagine a summer table filled with warmth and sunlight: golden fried eggplants glistening on the plate, the shine of olive oil, the red of ripe tomatoes, the scent of garlic in the air. This is şakşuka.
Its roots go back to the Arabic word “shashaka,” meaning “to mix.” In Tunisian and Israeli cuisines there is also a dish called shakshuka, but there it refers to a spicy tomato stew with eggs. The Turkish şakşuka tells a different story. There are no eggs here. Instead, the charm lies in the fried vegetables themselves.
Along the Aegean coast, especially around İzmir, Ayvalık, and Foça, şakşuka appears on nearly every summer table. Eggplants, zucchinis, potatoes, and green peppers are first fried to perfection, then topped with a sauce made of tomatoes, garlic, and olive oil. Once cooled and rested, the olive oil seeps gently into the vegetables, while the acidity of the tomatoes balances the sharpness of the garlic. The result is a simple yet profound harmony of flavors: crisp and soft, tangy and sweet, all coming together in one dish that sings of summer.
Each region adds its own touch:
• The Aegean version is simple and rich in garlic.
• The Antalya version is more colorful, with carrots and zucchini.
• The Hatay version gains a slight tang from a drizzle of pomegranate molasses.
Wherever it is made, şakşuka is always served cold. In that sense, it is more than a meze. It reflects the Mediterranean way of life: eating slowly, talking freely, sharing generously.
Even on modern tables, şakşuka still carries this spirit. A good şakşuka is not made only with fried eggplants but with sunlight, patience, and fine olive oil. Perhaps that is why, in every spoonful, what we truly taste is not just flavor but the warmth and generosity of the Mediterranean itself.
