Until this trip, my exposure to Greek food had been marginal. I knew it was Mediterranean-esque, and I’d had a couple of gyros before, but I was far from an expert on it (and no, watching the famous SNL “you like-a da juice” skit does not qualify anyone as an expert). So I was pretty keen on finding an authentic Greek taverna to see what traditional Greek food, and a traditional Greek dining experience, was like.
On our first evening in Greece, Holly wasn’t feeling too well, but she was still willing to accompany me to dinner. I had done some internet research via Chowhound and Diana Kochilas, a Greek-American food writer, and found a traditional Greek taverna about a 15-20 minute walk away from our hotel – Aschimopapo (a.k.a T’ashkimopapo, or Askimopapo, depending on how you transliterate the Greek), which translates into “The Ugly Duckling”. It’s an old taverna (opened in 1968 and still run by the same family), in the quiet residential neighborhood of Petralona, which doesn’t often see tourists.
Our walk there was quite pleasant – as Holly has written,
we stayed in a quiet residential neighborhood a stone’s throw from the
Acropolis. To get to Aschimopapo, we walked through the neighborhood, around
the base of Filopappou Hill, which lies just west of the Acropolis. It was a
bit of a chilly evening, so once we arrived, we didn’t waste much time in
opening the door to get in. As the door swung open, we were greeted by a blast
of warm air, accompanied by loud and raucous music, laughter, and shouting. A
party! The taverna was packed; all the tables we saw were full, there was a
band in the corner playing some folk music, and there were a handful of people
dancing in a little clearing just in front of the band. The taverna itself was
festooned with streamers, masks, and colorful ribbons, and my first thought
was: “Oh great, we came on the one night it’s closed for a private party.”
We eventually made eye contact with one of the waitresses,
who first tried talking to us in Greek (well, talked to Holly) before switching to English. She found us a table in the back, jammed in between two other tables. Very
cosy. The other thing we noticed was that the taverna was thick with smoke.
Greeks (and Italians, we’re finding) love to smoke, and this taverna was
clearly smoker-friendly. But it was hard for us to take exception to this.
Something about the celebratory mood in the air, the warmth of the place, and
seeing everyone have so much fun reveling together, made it impossible to be
annoyed by the cigarette smoke.
Because Holly wasn’t feeling too well, we only ordered a
couple of dishes: tzatziki, a cucumber and tomato salad, and a braised beef dish. To
help wash it down, we (or I) ordered a carafe of the house red, which came in a
cute red aluminum carafe. We also asked the waitress what we had walked in on,
and she explained that it was the last day of Carnival, the last feast day
before Clean Monday and the beginning of Lent. As we sat there waiting for our
food to arrive, it was pretty apparent that everyone was having a good time.
The band would strike up a song, and before they’d played a bar, everyone would
start singing. And everyone seemed to know all the words! Well, except us, but
I think we got exemptions as tourists. People would get up from the tables and
dance too – Holly and I remarked that the last time we’d seen a party this
boisterous and fun was at Shoba and Adam’s wedding, which was an Indian/Jewish
affair (and if you think Indians/Jews can throw a good wedding party, wait
until they celebrate a wedding together!). It was almost as if the Greeks were
celebrating in defiance of the grim times they lived in, laughing and dancing
in the face of hardship, choosing to believe that crises pass and fairer days will
come.
 |
| Okay, we are really bad at remembering to take photos before we start eating. If you're bored, go through all our food posts and count how many times we've already started digging into our meal before one of us remembers to snap a photo. (From L to R: Cucumber and tomato salad, tzatziki, braised beef dish. Red aluminum carafe in the center contains a quarter-litre of the house red wine.) |
Oh, and the food (what good is a food post if we don’t
talk about the food?). My goodness. Holly declared that it was the best
tzatziki she’d ever had (and she wasn’t even hungry). The salad was seasoned
with just enough olive oil and a light vinaigrette, and complimented the other
dishes perfectly. Our beef was braised in a brown sauce, perfectly tender, but
with excellent texture and taste. Unfortunately the name of it was (wait for
it) Greek to me (buda-ching!) and I forgot to write it down. The fried potatoes
(okay, we’d call them fries, but the Greeks called them fried potatoes, so
we’ll stick with that) were perfect – crispy on the outside, soft on the
inside. The house red was a good complement to the food too –it probably wouldn’t
break 90 points on Wine Spectator, but it was good and robust without being too
heavy on the tannins (even Holly liked it). For dessert, we had a halva made
with semolina flour, and a cookie/pastry that crumbled in your mouth. They were
both sweet but not overbearingly so, and a nice way to end dinner. The meal probably wouldn't win any Michelin stars, but it was easy to see why the taverna was still here, over 50 years after it opened, and such a hit with the locals.
At the end of the evening, our waitress (who spoke excellent
English) asked us: “The owner wants to know how did you find us? This is one of
the oldest tavernas in Athens, but only Greeks come here. We only see
foreigners when their Greek friends bring them!” I have to admit, that made us
both beam with foodie pride. It’s always thrilling to find a good eatery that
only the locals know about (and it’s harder and harder in the internet age). We
couldn’t have asked for a better way to end our first day in Athens and the
start of our European adventure. Surrounded by such warmth and celebration, and
with such good and hearty food, it was as if we were being welcomed into Europe
with open arms and cries of “Oppa!”
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