Mallorca meets Michelin, and childcare comes with a sommelier.
They say you lose something of yourself when you become a parent. For some it’s sleep, for others it’s patience. For me, it was any vague attachment to the idea that all-inclusive resorts were strictly for people who’d given up. Enter Ikos Porto Petro.
I had been warned — in the way you’re warned about particularly smug schools or eco-retreats — that this was a place of six-pack mums and silent, whirring prams. I can confirm both exist. But so do white stone terraces kissed by the sun, a beach that practically whispers your name, and a level of service that gently erases any resistance you might have been clinging to.
On arrival, our daughter was handed an organic fruit lolly; my wife received a cold glass of something grown-up and Provençal. The check-in was seamless, the luggage vanished, and within ten minutes, we were by the pool, pretending to be parents on purpose.
The hotel is designed with intention. Rooms are polished, understated, and whisper luxury without screaming about it. Clean lines, locally inspired design, and generous balconies offer a reminder that this is still Mallorca, not Mayfair. We stayed in a junior suite facing the sea, where we were treated to sunrise each morning and the quiet hush of a pine forest just beyond the deck.
Restaurants range from casual chic to white-linen serious. Rotating Michelin-starred chefs drop in, but this isn’t culinary theatre — it’s just really, really good food. Standouts included a beef tartare dressed tableside with lemon oil and microgreens, and a slow-roasted lamb shoulder that fell apart if you so much as whispered near it. Wine pairings were natural, generous, and surprising in all the right ways.
The creche deserves its own write-up. There’s a formality to the way it’s structured — ratios, timetables, accreditation — but none of that reads when you arrive. The staff are warm, confident, and laser-focused on keeping children entertained without relying on a screen. Our daughter insisted on attending every morning. And so we found ourselves reclaiming the long-lost luxury of time.
That time was easily filled. A spa menu that rivals any big-city sanctuary. Daily fitness classes and beach yoga. Stand-up paddleboarding at dawn, and a catamaran tour along the coast that genuinely took our breath away. There’s a rhythm to the days here that invites you to tune in without pressure.
There’s also the option to borrow one of the resort’s Teslas — yes, really — and head off to explore nearby fishing villages or inland vineyards. We did exactly that one afternoon, pulling into a family-run winery that’s been in operation since the 19th century. It felt off-grid and entirely local, which is impressive considering we’d come from an all-inclusive.
And that’s the point, really. This isn’t an all-inclusive in the way you remember them. There are no sad buffets. No towel cards. No lurid bracelets. This is a seamless ecosystem where nearly everything is included but nothing feels restricted.
There are still the tell-tale signs of luxury — the scent of lemongrass in the corridors, the impossible efficiency of room service, the unspoken etiquette of silent pools and optional childcare. But Ikos has figured out how to layer those things without smothering the joy of a simple holiday.
By the end of the week, I wasn’t just converted. I was evangelical. We floated out of the lobby with matching tans and actual energy — a rare combination. Ikos Porto Petro didn’t just change my mind about all-inclusives. It changed the way I think about family travel.
Because when everything is done this well, surrendering to it doesn’t feel like giving up. It feels like finally getting it right.
