Yalla Habibi

The restaurant & setting. On a bright sunny day Martin Novák heads to Banská Bystrica, Slovakia's sixth-largest city, cradle of the Slovak National Uprising, but certainly no hotbed of Middle-Eastern cooking. „In the middle of Slovakia and oriental cuisine, maybe that goes together," he muses. He arrives at Yalla Habibi right on the pretty main square (Dolná). The name is Arabic for „come, my love," and the place's slogan is „love tastes of the orient." Yet the terrace looks deserted: two lonely „sad" tables in lovely weather, potential going to waste.

The people. The restaurant is run by two Syrian sisters, owners and cooks Inás (a former medical lab technician, married to an orthopaedic surgeon) and Dana („I am from Syria and Venezuela... always we have this dream, to cook for people"). The marketing face is Inás's daughter Lara (24, a medical student, six years in Banská Bystrica), who placed the call to Martin. Service and shifts are handled by her 19-year-old brother Max (Maxim): „I often have plans, but I cancel them the moment I see they need help here." The family sticks together: „otherwise it wouldn't work."

Why they called Martin. The core problem is a paradox: the food is excellent, yet the restaurant sits empty. „When food this good comes out, why is the restaurant empty?" There is no kitchen system, extreme waiting times, a language barrier (the sisters speak only broken Slovak), and Slovaks' fear of unfamiliar Arabic dishes with unpronounceable names.

The first visit. Max serves rose tea and Martin orders mohamara (a red-pepper paste), tabbouleh salad, kibbeh (fried bulgur dumplings stuffed with beef), a mixed grill and a fillet of zander. The mohamara „grabbed me by the heart straight away," the salad of parsley, tomato and lemon juice is refreshing, the kibbeh has „really excellent flavours." The one flop is the zander: „an extremely dried-out fish, completely dry, no juice at all." But the real problem is time: „It's been 40 minutes since I ordered." With the room empty he keeps asking the same question: why does nobody come?

The diagnosis. „Your restaurant is sad. The tables are crying... in the Arab world it's lively, joyful, there's music, and is it here? No." The root is clear: „You have no system." In the kitchen everyone does everything, two cooks make the same dish, nobody knows whose grill is whose: „A mess on the table means a mess in the head. Chaos. It's an explosion." In an emotional talk Inás admits her orthopaedist husband funds the whole venture and she's ashamed to keep asking for money. Martin reassures her: „You've already won. But you're still a mother first, and being a mother matters more than business." Because of the language barrier he calls in his friend Katrín, a Syrian translator.

The reset. Martin takes the women to a friend's nearby restaurant, where the local chef shows them proper mise en place, „everything portioned, prepped in advance", and a working ticket-based order flow. Inás tries her hand at beetroot risotto. Back at the venue they run a quick drill of the kitchen flow (mutabbal/baba ganoush as starters, then mains, then desserts, „you ring the bell, done"). He brings in photographer Peťo to shoot the dishes; a QR menu with photos is added; and his friends at Tesco supply gift vouchers worth €2,000 for fresh ingredients. The team also hits the streets handing out small portions and flyers with the slogan „love tastes of the orient."

New concept & menu. No rebrand: the name and spirit stay. What changes is the menu: a shorter, focused list of six traditional dishes they do best, hummus, mohamara, baba ganoush, kibbeh, mixed grill and braised okra (bamia) with beef, plus tabbouleh and desserts (kunafa, kohalová). The key innovation is a visual QR menu so guests can see exactly what they're ordering.

The big night. For the decisive dinner the kitchen is „clean and prepped," and Martin is proud: the first starter went out in 7 minutes (versus the original 40). The evening is rattled by tech, though: the till starts „spitting out nonsense receipts," and Max struggles with printing tickets and taking orders by phone. Martin steers him behind the bar and out to the tables; the kitchen runs. „The boss is bossing, her cooks are cooking, the waiters are running plates, I'm delighted." Guests are smiling, everything tastes good.

One month later. Martin returns to „one of my favourite places in Slovakia" and finally sees guests. Inás sums it up: „We have customers, finally." There's now a daily menu and new dishes: Egyptian spinach with rice (molokhia/„morokia") and Dubai chocolate with pistachios. Max is „buried in the work." The old hits (mohamara, kibbeh, tabbouleh) have stayed and taste exactly as before. „The ice has been broken."

Verdict: 4 knives. Martin praises that they cook „with love, with feeling, like mothers", and for that he awards the final rating of 4 knives. „It's been a long time since I felt this good about a restaurant I could help, especially about the kitchen." He docks a point for speed under the lunchtime rush, but leaves satisfied: „Just come and see for yourselves, I don't think you'll be disappointed."