Michael Mesologitis garnishes a dish with Kalamata olives as only a true Greek can.
People often ask me if I cook, and I have to say no. But what I should say is, "Not anymore." Because, for the better part of three years, I cooked in a Greek restaurant, and that's why Greek is really the only cuisine I am confident enough to prepare for a formal dinner party.
During my tenure, I realized that Greek is not a great restaurant cuisine. The best Greek food in this country is served at Greek festivals, big parties held in Greek Orthodox Church yards, where grandmothers do most of the cooking.
Even in Athens, it is hard to find a great restaurant, so much so that Milos, a Greek fish restaurant from Montreal that rocketed to fame in New York City, is opening a branch there in time for the Olympics.
Oh, if there were only a Milos here! But failing that, City Lights Bistro, run by veteran restaurateur Michael Karafantis, is the best Greek restaurant I've visited since I started writing about food here five years ago.
It's not a perfectly authentic one, though. You won't find taverna dishes like roast leg of lamb or stewed vegetables, and the kitchen uses potatoes in the tarama, a cod-roe and olive-oil dip, as a thickener. (In Greece, they use just fish and oil.)
But Karafantis plans a host of daily specials as his business increases, and he is already serving the best Greek salad, Athenian-style baked chicken, paidakia (Greek lamb chops) and Greek casseroles in town. That's a good start, anyway.
Perhaps you remember this restaurant when it was called Kitchen Café. If so, you'll be in for a pleasant surprise. The restaurant has been redone in mustard, extending the space. Seating is on black chairs, at tables in beige tablecloths. Plants strung with lights frame the windows. In the spacious bar, live jazz plays Monday through Wednesday. Thursday is Serbian night, and on weekends, there is Greek music.
And with a few exceptions, like an overly tart egg lemon (avgolemono) soup, I liked everything I ate here.
I'd advise beginning with horiatiki, or Greek village salad. The menu explains that it is without lettuce, as true Greek salad is. The components are feta cheese, red onions, Kalamata olives, green bell peppers, ripe tomatoes and cucumber slices, all doused with a pungent, olive oil-based vinaigrette. Eaten with the good house bread, a crusty herbed baguette, it makes a satisfying lunch by itself.
Then there are mezedakia, or appetizers, a few of which will make an entrée an unnecessary option. Marides are deep-fried, battered smelts, a pile served in a basket, delightful when eaten with a healthy squeeze of lemon.
Keftedakia, Greek meat patties, are fine, too, although here not redolent of dill and mint, nor dredged with flour before being fried. Rather, they are basically just flame-broiled meat patties spiced with garlic and oregano, but delicious anyway.
Then there are dolmades, or stuffed grape leaves, filled with a dense meat-rice stuffing and topped with egg-lemon sauce. Grilled octopus may be off-putting to some unaccustomed to this creature, but the tentacles are tender and flavorful, in an oil and lemon sauce ideal for being scooped up with bread.
The meats and casseroles sing, too. One day, my wife and I shared a pikilia, or combination plate, crammed with kefetdakia; grape leaves; spanakopita, spinach and cheese pie; and two kinds of souvlaki, beef and chicken, both juicy, perfectly marinated and fork tender.
Moussaka is a casserole composed of layers of fried eggplant, spiced ground meat (here beef, although the traditional recipe calls for beef and lamb), and a top tier of bechamel, a custard-like substance made from eggs, flour and milk. This one is as good, and rich, as any I've ever tasted. For those not watching their diet, there also is the casserole pastitsio. Think macaroni and cheese, then get out your calculator and start multiplying the calories.
There are lots of other worthy dishes on this menu: roasted lamb shank, Greek-style spaghetti topped with myzithra cheese (like a Greek pecorino), wonderfully flavorful lamb chops, and of course, that superb chicken, sizzling with lemon, garlic, oregano and olive oil.
Most main courses come with a choice of potatoes or rice pilaf. Have the pilaf, which is a lot better than the insipid potato wedges. (It's a shame the chefs do not make Greek-style potatoes, cooked in the oven along with meats so they absorb all the juices and oil from the roasting process.) Maybe that will come later.
Maybe a few Greek desserts other than baklava and galactoboureko, a pudding made with milk and Cream of Wheat, will come later, too. At least the baklava is up to speed. The one I tasted was fresh, not overly sweet, and chock-full o'nuts, the way good baklava is supposed to be.
But hell, I can do that one at home.