My thought after visiting any taverna or ouzeri in Athens (aside from wow, my stomach is really distended) is that the cookery exudes a mature confidence. The menus tend to look similar, with kitchen staffs more interested in honing than experimenting. I can't remember ever eating this well in Europe. Granted, in the more expensive northern cities I tend to throw together quick meals on the stovetop ... but still. There's something about the intersection of sun and sea: vine-ripened vegetables, fish just pulled from the Mediterranean, and always these damned flaky cheese pastries leading me to my destruction. While I dine, I jot down observations in a notebook ― the old habit of a newspaperman. I have caught chefs and servers noticing this; it seems to gratify them. Maybe they are just amused.
In a Thanksgiving act of solidarity with my countrymen, I went in search of something resembling a turkey dinner. The closest thing I could find was this slowly braised rooster in a fragrant tomato and wine sauce, along with mashed potatoes, at Seychelles (Keramikou 49). Those are little sweet pearl onions at right. It is very traditional offering here, the food of a country inn ― essentially a Greek coq au vin but popping with nutmeg, cinnamon, cloves. Rich and complex, not for the timid.
If I were smart, I'd come twice a day. Rice- and herb-filled vine leaves (dolmades) swim in a saffron-flecked yogurt cream:
The conversation taking place at the large table to my right (not pictured) transfixed me. I recorded a few minutes of it and have been playing it in my apartment while washing dishes, making coffee. My Greek comprehension is getting a lot better! Funny how that works.
I really wanted to try the lemon mousse, but the portions are so large here, I can never bring myself to order a dessert. Most of the time your server is going to bring you a little piece of syrup-soaked portokalopita cake as a farewell gift anyway. Birth of civilization, man.
I was astonished all over again at Ama Lachei (Kallidromiou 69), a small-plates establishment where the menu practically announces that a cat will be your dining partner. Truth in advertising.
Carolina's guidance early in this trip has been invaluable: When strong flavors are in your future, select an ouzo to stand up to them. Dutifully, I order a little botttle of Barbayanni Green from Lesbos. And out come the plates, boom boom boom. Pepper flakes sprinkled on a spicy homemade soft cheese called tirokafteri. Along with thickly sliced toasted bread for spreadin'.
Sauteed mushrooms with nosey hints of thyme and garlic.
A shortfin squid ― found in deep, deep waters ― presented to me in a lemon and caper pesto alongside a bulgur salad. I cannot recall ever being served an entire squid before. In this form I briefly think about its friends and family. Emphasis on briefly.
Beat it, kid.
What have I learned? Panos and Carolina's suggestions have been faultless ― inspired, even. Stay off the internet. Get out of Plaka. If you find a place you love, tell a friend. Ask actual Athenians for their restaurant recommendations and, if possible, have them write them down on a scrap of paper. Then go down the list a bite at a time. Here you go.
Comments
Post a Comment