Cafe Beirut Made a Garden of Eatin' in the Middle of Zamalek

The quest for a decent outdoor table often ends in a compromise. You can have the view, but you’ll eat mediocre food. You can have a glass of wine, but you’ll sacrifice the food. You can have the garden, but you’ll fund the mosquito population. It’s a culinary trilemma where you typically get to pick one, and begrudgingly accept the other two.

Cafe Beirut, the new Zamalek venture from partners Samir Andari and Alex Chesnis, operates on the premise that you can, in fact, have it all. And you don’t have to shout over a terrible playlist to enjoy it.
The space—a self-designed project by Chesnis that he describes as “freestyling”—feels like the impossibly cool, airy terrace of a friend’s villa. A friend with impeccable taste and a Lebanese grandmother in the kitchen.

“Zamalek seems like a complete jungle,” Chesnis admits, with the dry humour of someone who’s wrestled with its plumbing. “And whenever you're sitting in the garden outside, it's like you can't believe it's true.” He’s not wrong. The terrace is a rebellion against the neighbourhood’s chaos.The concept is a masterclass in targeted hospitality. While every other restaurateur was elbowing for space in a New Cario mall, Andari and Chesnis asked a simpler question: what about the people who already live here? “People in Zamalek felt left out,” Chesnis states. “We wanted to be the neighbourhood spot.” Not an event. A staple.

This is not a Lebanese-themed restaurant. It is a Lebanese restaurant, full stop. Their executive chef is Lebanese. The critical spices, labneh, and za’atar are imported from Beirut; “The difference makers,” Chesnis calls them. Within the premises of the kitchen everything, from the bread to the pastries, is made in-house. “We don’t outsource anything,” he says. “To know exactly what you're serving your guests… it’s a main factor in keeping your quality up.”

The menu is a roll call of hits. The shanklish and grills are so good it makes you question every other version you’ve eaten. The eggplant fatteh is a textural symphony that should be studied. And the fokharat, arriving in a sizzling clay pot, is the kind of dish that makes sharing a test of personal willpower.For those with a happily wandering eye (or just a rumbling stomach between meetings), the Deli Menu winks from the counter. It’s a collection of delicious little affairs you can have on the go. Sandwiches, viennoiseries, and bowls. Croque Monsieur blushing with a hint of honey mustard, or a spicy tuna sandwich that sasses you back with a Lebanese accent. Their Club Sandwich à la Libanaise is a towering love letter to the region, while bowls like the Omelette Avocado or the Lebanese Chicken are the sort of happy, wholesome collisions that make a perfect day.

As the sun sets, the terrace doesn't just get darker; it shifts genre. It becomes a place where a glass of Omar Khayyam, and a plate of kebbeh bi laban can coexist in perfect, unpretentious harmony. No single element feels like it’s slumming it with the others.It’s a model that has, predictably, magnetised Zamalek’s expats, who currently form 70% of the clientele. But the goal remains local. “I want them to feel at home,” Chesnis says. They’ve built a place that isn’t trying to be the next big thing. It’s trying to be your thing, the Zamalek neighbourhood spot.