I’m a big fan of the Greeks. They break plates. This, I think, is both therapeutic and fun. When trying to convince my mother of this at the age of six with her family heirloom crockery in my hot little hand, it wasn’t encouraged. As I got older I moved past the plate-breaking, discovered the country, the country’s fondness for blondes but more importantly, the food.
There are very few Greek restaurants I trust. Firstly the manager’s name always seems to be Bob Jones or something equally unGreek and their humus tastes suspiciously like it came from Woolies.
But when I arrived at Mezepoli and I was greeted by Thanos who couldn’t have been more Greek if he was showing me his Greek passport while living on the island of Skiathos. I knew this was a restaurant that took its cuisine seriously. No fake island wallpaper, no over-the-top waiters, the décor is simple, stylish, minimalistic and on a quiet Tuesday night, it was packed.
When my eyes hit that menu, I was pretty much in a place I like to call Baglett heaven. They were already preaching to the converted since I’m a fan of ‘picky’ things. Take me to a cocktail party and give me food on a toothpick and I’m your best friend. Take me to a Greek restaurant with meze platters and I’ll marry you on the spot. The very attentive, very Greek, very smiley manager ignored the droolmarks I was making on the menu and quickly realised that if he wanted to get home before sunrise he would have to order for me. That’s my tip to you, if you’re not Picky Petros, get the manager to order for you, they’re good like that.
I was there because I love saying the word ‘taramasalata’ an annoying number of times, I was interested to know why the other patrons were there, I can only assume it’s because of the vast array of choice from Spanish tapas, to dim sum, to sushi to traditional Greek dishes. (And also because it’s fun to get the Greek manager to say ‘Taramasalata’ over and over again.)
If you’re a lover of dips, pita bread and baklava and don’t want to be living off restaurant mints for the rest of the month, Mezepoli in Melrose Arch is perfect for you. And no, you can’t break plates. I asked.
Mezepoli was reviewed by Baglett. Read her rib-achingly funny blog here.