Popular Greek restaurant shows best and worst side in one
Santorini is one of those Warsaw restaurants that have been around so long you forget it's there. For whatever reason, I had never ever been to the Praga eatery. Chloe had a great meal there three years ago, though, and when she came back to Warsaw for a visit recently, she begged that we try it. After our meal there, however, she regretted it, and I vowed not to let her pick the restaurants anymore.
A formally dressed waiter greeted us and sat us in the faux "summer garden," a room decorated to look like a rural Greek courtyard. The rough, whitewashed walls, a blue and white striped awning overhead, and rustic furniture set the scene. I can see how this would have been impressive stuff when the restaurant first opened three years ago. But now it seems tired and a bit worn out.
That hasn't kept customers from coming though. The Friday we were there, it was packed. Our waiter, an amiable, reasonably well-trained chap, delivered menus and took our drink order: mineral water for Chloe (zl. 5), and a small beer (zl. 5.50) for me.
Going over the menu, everything sounded so good, we couldn't decide what to order. We bought time by staggering our order. In the meantime I asked the waiter for help choosing a wine. It is an all-Greek wine list and I have very little experience with that. But I'm adventurous, so when the waiter recommended one of the famous (or notorious) white Retsina wines, I said fine. But pine flavored wine was not going near Chloe. She grabbed the wine card back and demanded a second opinion. "Chloe, I checked. There is not any Bourgogne on there," I said. The waiter found something that pleased us both, a semi-dry red, Agiabelos (zl. 40).
When WBJ reviewer Sam Worthington first reviewed the place, he recommended ordering a selection of the appetizers. There are about 10 to choose from, including tzatziki (yogurt, cucumber and garlic), humus (mashed chick peas) taramasalata (cod and roe paste), dolmades (stuffed grape leaves), feta cheese and olives. They are all in the zl. 15-zl. 20 range. We ordered three to share. The best came first: a plate of Oktapodi Xidato (zl. 19) otherwise known as octopus. We had about a dozen bite-size pieces of the cold, rubbery beast, dressed with olive oil and vinegar. The next two came together: Melitzanoburekakia (zl. 17.50), fried and breaded eggplant rolls stuffed with spinach and feta cheese served with tomato sauce, and Spanakotinopitakia (zl. 14), fried phyllo pastries with feta and spinach. The thin, flakey pastries were good, but mostly these just tasted greasy and bland. I'm not even sure there was any feta cheese inside there.
For the next course, Chloe chose Galopula Gemisti (zl. 39): baked turkey with feta and raisins. The turkey was generously laddled with an orange sauce that hadn't been mentioned in the menu. Chloe took one bite then violently pushed it away. "There is no feta on that at all!" she claimed loudly. She said it tasted more like something from a Chinese restaurant, and with all that orange sauce and the rice on the side, I had to agree. As she refused to take another bite, I swapped withher. I had ordered the Kalmarakia Gemista (zl. 35) from the specials menu. It consisted of calimari stuffed with rice, feta and baby shrimps. "This is really good," Chloe said, as I picked at my rice and dry turkey.
Dessert was a replay. She ordered vanilla ice cream with strawberries (zl. 15). The menu said the strawberries would be "hot," which meant they as a blue-flaming mass poured onto her ice cream at the table. She hates alcohol on ice cream, but worse, thanks to the flambe, after two minutes there was no ice cream, just a warm, melted mush. "Would you trade me for yours?" she asked. So after one bite I, handed over what was one of the best pieces of Baklavas (zl. 12) that I'd ever tasted: honey, nuts and almonds in the cake of thin, flaky pastry. "This is really good too," Chloe told me.
Our bill came to zl. 222 ($55.50) before tip. Chloe and I usually agree on restaurants, but this time we couldn't have been more divided: she regrets ever going, and I look forward to going back for the most delicious meal I never ate.
