Back home, Melbourne is rediscovering Greek food in earnest. Led by a resurgence of local talent, such as Ella Mittas, Athens-style wine-bar bites and taverna-esque tables have become focal points. Take Capers, on Sydney Road, for example. If you’ve somehow missed it, perhaps you’ve been in Greece with half of Melbourne, living the revival at its source.
This article combines Katherine’s love (writing and cooking) with Tom’s passion (photography) to share a handful of recommendations for anyone to eat and drink their way through Greece and its islands.
We visited Athens for five days and could easily have stayed for weeks. Our brief was simple: make a list, eat the list.
We began at Diporto, where the chickpeas arrive deep and savoury, and wandered to Varvakeios Market for plates of nibbles and fish that taste like the morning’s work. Pharaoh gave us the kind of smoky eggplant that quiets a table; Isandsia (ask a local how to pronounce this) did right by green beans; Kapani offered grilled mushrooms and an excuse to linger until late.
We punctuated afternoons with a glass of wine at Wine Is Fine, sampled midnight cheeses at Kennedy, and reset the next morning at 10 am at Apothake with coffee and warm bread. 10am Apothake is worth visiting for its interior alone, but it also hosts occasional pop-up collaborations that, if you’re lucky, seem to materialise just when you’re ready for something unexpected.
Along with democracy and the Olympics, the Greeks are also responsible for another stalwart of Western civilisation — the freddo. You’ll soon know the difference between these and a frappe. We quickly learnt that, alongside eating, drinking (alcoholic or not) is a main way of experiencing Greece. It’s a drinking culture in the best sense — social, unhurried, at ease.
It’s easy to try and rush through Athens before you hop on to something else (probably the Greek Islands). But don’t. Take your time, and you will be grateful.
Athens rewards roaming, suburb by suburb. We were based in Kypseli. The suburb is becoming gentrified — ie still a little rough around the edges, rich in character, and ideal for sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with locals. Post-GFC austerity left a visible anarchist streak here; talk to bartenders about it and the politics becomes part of the texture. Or don’t — the graffiti about tourists and AirBNBs will tell you plenty.
Beyond the plate, stop in at It’s a Shirt and say hello to Christina; visit the Acropolis (it’s mandatory, although we suggest going earlier, before designated tour groups are allowed and the crowds become too much), the National Archaeological Museum and then the flea market during the afternoon.
A wedding took us briefly to Poros, and from there we drifted forward: Milos (good), Kimolos (better), Sifnos (best).
Milos is famous for its beaches and octopus — and its ATVs (like Hummers but smaller; surprisingly just as loud). Food arrives as a generous still life: grilled peppers, taramasalata, rusks with tomato and zucchini, beetroot salads, and seafood treated every which way — vinegared, grilled, fried. Medusa and O! Hamas! were our two favourites, then wander up to the Plaka castle for a sunset cocktail.
Reaching the island’s hidden coves requires arranging a boat. Choose a small operator (we loved Milos Oneiro for its coffee, pasta, fruit, seafood, and the captain’s homemade wine). We did the tour early on, so we had a good idea of which beaches to prioritise. Plot your beach days across Sarakiniko, Tsigrado, Klima, Firopotamos and Mandrakia — each a different mood, all deeply photogenic. If the crowds start to grate, take the hint and keep moving.
Kimolos sits a stone’s throw from Milos. When rough seas cancelled our ferry, a fisherman waved us aboard his boat to ferry us across. Mornings started with fresh fruit, local yoghurt and honey; lunches became a bakery pilgrimage — pies with local cheese, flatbread with tomato and oregano, and leek-and-zucchini slices warm from the tray. We swam from tiny fishing villages tucked into the rock, lingered over perfect sunsets, and unexpectedly joined the Kimolos International Film Festival, where the whole neighbourhood seemed to arrive at once. Leisure here isn’t an activity so much as an enforced way of life.
We didn’t mean to, but we left the best until late — friendly neighbours, ‘farm to table’ cooking, and wine bars that let the sea do the talking. Captain George plates lightly fried zucchini and grilled prawns so close to the water that waves will genuinely splash you. Loggia Wine Bar thinks like a gallery menu — chanterelles with apricots and manouri, octopus on fava with sea fennel, ceviche bright with chilli and radishes. At one point, we realised we’d been sitting next to Sam Youkilis, which neatly captures Sifnos’ current ‘in-crowd’ moment without diminishing the charm.
Our favourite evenings were simpler still: a rooftop bottle and rusks crowned with tomato, hard cheese and capers, delivered by our neighbour Nora while we sat debriefing about the day. When it’s time to go out and reward yourself with a nice meal (which you should, because it is hard work relaxing so much), book a seat at Cantina. We ate sourdough with grilled olives; tomato-and-watermelon soup; tuna ceviche with grilled cucumber; chickpea panisse with smoky ketchup; fava crêpes with beetroot; and swordfish ‘giros’ tucked into pita with pickled onions and sour cream. Sourcing is local and ethical by design. Close your culinary experience at Cafe Mosaic with octopus in vinegar and oil, baked eggplant saganaki and a tangle of Cretan pasta, then sleep like you earned it.
It’s funny how you develop your own momentary rituals when you travel. Each morning, we would venture down to Diporto (not related to the one in Athens) for a lazy coffee, a slice of orange cake or something similar. If you’re lucky, you will be served by Aries, the sharpest young server on the island, running the room with grace.
Sifnos also pairs an art scene to match the wine. We met Salma Barakat, an Egyptian-Greek designer translating analogue collages into contemporary kilim weaves — fluid forms disciplined by warp and weft. Documenting her work was a highlight for Tom.
We drove across the island to Keramika Kosta Depastas, where Kostas welcomed us like family. His workshop hums with old-school craft and quietly ingenious engineering. If you do the same, visit Η Αμμουδιά for lunch. The island’s signature chickpea soup is a lesson in restraint, and Η Αμμουδιά was our favourite.
Athens: Diporto (chickpeas); Varvakeios Market (nibbles + fish); Pharaoh (smoky eggplant); Kapani (grill + graze); Wine Is Fine (naturals); Kennedy (cheese); 10am Apothake (coffee, bread, pop-ups).
Milos: Medusa; O! Hamas!
Kimolos: Bakeries, cafes (Sinantisi, for a granola breakfast; Café Sweet Mug). Also Palaia Agora, Geusidéleia, and Stavento (for ice cream and people watching)
Sifnos: Captain George; Loggia Wine Bar; Cantina (late sitting); Cafe Mosaic; rooftop wine + rusks; Diporto (coffee + orange cake). Η Αμμουδιά; chickpea soup.