When husband-and-wife chef-owners Ori Menashe and Genevieve Gergis chose Bavel for the name of their celebrated Los Angeles restaurant, they did so because they cherished they way the likely mis-transcribed word, taken from the original Old Testament’s story of Babel, alluded to a time when everything was one.

These days, that may be but a wistful notion. But Bavel gives you a semblance of that hopefulness, as you step through its doors to the cacophony of diners of all walks and ages, clinking glasses, digging into big plates of grilled meats, and using their hands to enjoy puffy pita together with abandon.

And loud it is, as I found when I dined a couple weeks ago. The chic dining room with its ceiling of cascading leafy vines is especially raucous, and the comfortable front patio, where I dined, is only a few decibels less. It’s like being invited to a rollicking party at its height.

It definitely adds to the anticipation for the superb modern Middle Eastern specialties to come.

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