Estia

Just opposite the Academy of Music in the heart of Philadelphia (just off Broad on Locust) lies Estia, a high-end Mediterranean restaurant with a Grecian flair. Opened in October 2005 by Pete Pashalis, Nick Pashalis, and John Lois, the restaurant showcases the talent of Head Chef David Glazer. 

As I enter through the wooden doors, Estia reminds me of Greece. The ceilings are low, arched and covered in stone which couple eloquently the exposed brick walls.  Wooden floors run into tiled floors, both carrying a few simple clay jars, metal gates, and just the right selection of potted plants.  In the middle of the restaurant, against the furthest wall is an open kitchen, iron pots hanging from the ceiling, chefs calmly preparing dishes.  And to the right of the kitchen, a few steps up, stands a small fish market with several varieties of fish displayed on ice and shelves full of fresh produce.

The hostess greets and seats us.  The tables are perfectly Mediterranean - little, wooden, laden with linens.  The chairs are also wooden but garnished with cushions, just like in Crete.  There is a variety of seating available, including long tables and large booths for parties, an indoor courtyard with patio furniture, and cozy little tables for romantic dinners. Beneath the main dining room a second floor holds a lounge, a small bar, and two pristine banquet rooms, which can be rented out for events such as rehearsal dinners.

The lighting is dim, and subtle music hums in the background. Our waiter arrives and describes this evening’s specials, taking his time and showing real enthusiasm about each dish. He recommends the fish, which he describes as a grilled masterpiece. 

He draws our attention to the extensive wine menu, which we briefly glance over and then exhale.  There are over 300 wines available, including those from Greece, America and Australia. Many of the wines are reasonably priced, although for a well-tuned palate, several pricier but upscale bottles are also available.  There are so many wines, in fact, that several of the walls are lined with wine storage cabinets with windowed wooden doors.  Our waiter is knowledgeable and offers to recommend a wine but also suggests Estia’s fabulous mixed drinks.  My date is taken in by the description of a Greek mojito, which is made with a special Greek brandy called Metaxa.  Our waiter explains that the brandy’s individuality lies in its potency, which is twice the strength of regular brandy. I almost order the same, but upon hearing that the Purple French martini comes garnished with an edible orchid, I opt for the martini instead.

Our drinks arrive at the same time as our complimentary bread and hummus.  The bread, wrapped in cloth and tucked in a basket, still holds a bit of warmth.  The bread is a bit tough to chew, but the creaminess of the garlic hummus offsets it well.  The hummus is served garnished with kalamata olives, which are salty and crunchy. 

My date’s drink is served in a rocks glass, mint mingling within the ice.  Unlike a regularly clear mojito, the Greek mojito has a brownish cast to it, obviously a result of the brandy. Meanwhile, my drink is a soft purple and served in a standard martini glass, a hint of pineapple wafting above the glass.  And there, clinging to its rim, hangs a purplish white orchid.  I tear off a petal and sample it; it tastes like the scent of perfume. I have a sip; the combination of Chambord and pineapple juice makes the martini sweet and tart, but the use of vanilla vodka instead of regular vodka brings together those flavors. 

Our appetizers arrive.  Our waiter describes them as meant to be shared, so they are placed in the middle of the table.  We have ordered Kalamarakia Tiganita, pan-fried calamari, and Horiatiki Salata, a salad of fresh cucumbers, olives, tomatoes, peppers, onions, and feta, drizzled in a light olive oil.

The calamari is crunchy and tender, served with a tangy ramekin of spicy tomato sauce, a lemon garnish, and a large metal spoon for scooping.

Although the calamari is delicious, Greece is well known for their salads; Estia should be as well.  A mound of chopped cucumbers, tomatoes, peppers, and onions is served with small bricks of feta and a large serving spoon.  The feta is crumbly and light, but I particularly love the tomatoes, for each one is a sweet, tender, juicy bite. 

After our floral-rimmed plates have been filled and emptied, and filled and emptied, we decide to order our main courses.  I select Tsipoura, “Royal Dorado” fish, which the waiter recommends.  Like most fish on Estia’s menu, this is offered by the pound, charcoal grilled, and served with ladolemono (a lemon oil sauce), oregano, and capers.  Sides must be ordered separately.  I order the recommended side of seasoned vegetables, which are also grilled. 

My date orders the Tonos, a sesame-seed-crusted yellow-fin tuna, which comes with sides of horta (spinach, broccoli rabe, and beet greens) and beets, and drizzled in an almond skordalia (a garlic sauce).
Before our dishes arrive, our waiter offers to guide several tables on a tour of Estia’s fish market, which stands in between the kitchen and the bar, and just a few steps above a decorative stone well. He describes each fish with intensity, including flavors, prices, and region of origin, many of the fish coming directly from Greece. 

The fish tour allows for a better understanding of preparation, as the kitchen is visible from the market.  Our waiter stresses that due to the size of the fish and the kitchen’s preparation of it, he recommends one pound of fish per person.  He also shares a few stories about the fish available, including one particular superstition that the fish Xenochristo, a haddock, may have been touched by St. Peter when he drew coins from the fish’s mouth to pay his taxes.  This legend explains the thumbprint-like mark that adorns the fish’s side.

Our waiter serves us our main course.  My date’s dish looks magnificent.  Several pieces of tuna, crusted with sesame seeds and grilled rare, are propped against a mountain of horta and beets.  The outer edges of tuna crumble at her fork’s touch.  The horta has a strong garlic zing, but the skordalia brings out the flavor without masking it.  The tuna is succulent, due to the lightly seared edges, which preserve the inner tenderness.

My charcoaled Tsipoura covers almost an entire plate, and is drizzled in ladolemono.  The white fish is served with the skin on, as well as the charred head and tail beside it, both of which have been separated from the body.  Topping the fish is a sprinkling of oregano and capers.  This is undeniably the moistest fish I have ever tasted, most likely due to the freshness of the fish itself and the ladolemono.  On a side dish, the vegetables of zucchini, asparagus, and carrots come topped with a large dollop of mint yogurt.  The yogurt has a slightly tangy flavor, yet is much milder than I anticipated.

After we request several carry-out containers, we order Ekmek, instead of the traditional Baklava, from the dessert menu.  Within a few minutes, the waiter presents a cube of pistachios, custard and whipped cream on a little plate set with two spoons.  The taste reminds me of delectable cannoli, less the crunchy shell; the custard, despite its gelatin appearance, is also delicious.

My water glass has never reached below half full even once tonight; the waiters are far too attentive to allow such a tragedy. The quick service helps me to understand why so many patrons eat from the pre-theatre menu, a three-course dinner served from 5-7 p.m.  Our waiter says that many people visit solely for that menu.  As I pick up my to-go containers, and taste one more scrumptious bite of Ekmek, I thank our waiter and make the journey back from the Mediterranean to Philadelphia.  Efharistoomay, thank you, delicious Estia.