A new wave of Hellenic cooking is emanating from the tiny island of Symi, and there's not a greasy, tepid meatball in sight. Words by William Sitwell.
Frequent visitors to Greece will be well aware of fish tavernas that don't serve fish, and eccentric menus offering 'lamp in the oven with ships'. But this never deters the Grecophiles among us who, year in, year out, feel the pull of the Aegean and are compelled to revisit those lush islands with their green seas and glistening olive groves, whose terraces trip down to the water, and to re-experience those long, Retsina-filled evenings, the warm air filled with the chatter of cicadas.
Indeed even the food these days compels one to return. Take my experience in the Dodecanese island of Symi, for example, where Athenian-born Stavros Gogios is cooking up sensational Mediterranean food for locals, tourists and on this occasion a grateful gaggle of family and friends. His menus include dishes such as fish in crispy filo with saffron cream, calamari in a basil sauce, lobster tagliatelle and courgette parcels stuffed with mushrooms (not a lamp or ship in sight). There are puddings too, such as pears stuffed with almond and honey, panna cotta and chocolate mousse. Not that Stavros turns his back on traditional Greek recipes entirely, indeed, his version of moussaka is the finest and lightest example of the dish that I've ever tasted.
This genius for producing wonderful food is partly the result of a romantic liaison. "When I was 18 years old I fell in love with a Danish girl. I followed her to Denmark, married her and had three kids," he says. "I discovered I liked to cook so went to catering college."
But after 18 years he also discovered that he didn't want to be married to the Dane anymore and that he was homesick, so he got divorced. And then six years ago he came to visit friends in Symi, met a Greek girl called Irene, got married and opened a restaurant.
"I have always wanted to present Greek food in another style," he explains. "Compared to French and Italian cuisine it is very degraded. So when I came here I thought that this was the place where I could make my dream come true."
His restaurant, Mythos, sits alongside the picturesque harbour in Symi Town. The first glimpse of the harbour as the ferry draws in from nearby Rhodes is a spectacular sight. Row upon row of neoclassical, pastel-coloured houses line the hills on either side. The villas that tower over the harbour with their wrought iron balconies, porticoes and arches are testimony to the fact that Symi was in the past a hugely prosperous island.
Once it had a thriving sponge industry, was a major producer of olive oil and wine, and from its densely forested interior came an abundance of wood that, coupled with numerous safe, natural harbours, gave rise to an immense shipbuilding industry. In those days, it was an island with a thriving population of more than 22,000 people. But Italian occupation before the second world war, followed by German invasion, caused many Symiots to leave for Rhodes and other islands, or move further away to America and Australia.
Today's population is just 2,500, but tourism has meant that many of the houses left to go to ruin after being bombed or simply abandoned, are now being rebuilt. As you walk up the Kalistrata - the handsome set of stone steps that link the upper part of town Chorio, and the lower, Yialos, - builders are hard at work removing overgrown weeds, shooing out families of cats and restoring the original peaked red-tiled rooves.
The influx of tourists means that Stavros's restaurant is packed out night after night through the season, and his food has proved so popular that he is now running cookery courses, too. "I have a local clientele, but the rest think that I'm too fussy and they think my menu sounds egocentric." This certainly doesn't put off his enthusiastic lunch party. There's his wife Irene's father, Iannis (who has a local stall selling herbs and spices), his Aunt Anna, Aunt Irene and his friends Stamatia, Dennis, Ernest and Helene.
They take their seats with glee. "Stavros is ahead of his time," says one, as they raise and chink their glasses for the first of many times.
"Yammas," they all cry, saluting each other. And then, in gradual succession, come those dishes. Prawns and mussels with risotto, courgette parcels stuffed with mushrooms, filo pastry with fish, rolled lamb in rosemary gravy, pork stuffed with apple sauce, honey and sage, calamari in basil sauce accompanied by roast potatoes and the sea bream in salt. The red skin of the fish, fresh off the boat that morning, glistens as Stavros sweeps aside the salt it had been cooked in. The meat is tender and delicious.
As his guests tuck in to his food Stavros joins the table to eat and to relax. "We Greeks are always very laid back," he says. "We have big abilities but we don't organise things. We are capable of so much, the most amazing things and the most stupid - nothing in the middle. Most Greeks love to live like that. I'm Greek, I love that and I don't want to change." Then there's more clinking of glasses, more salutations to the chef and, as the sun sets over the harbour and the cicadas begin their evening chorus, not one of Savros's guests is asking why there isn't any taramasalata on the menu.