Taverna Kos, Schöneberg, Berlin
Whenever I see or write the word “Lee”, I invariably hear Jack Black’s demented voice belting out his one-minute masterpiece of the same name, which I now invite you to enjoy. I mention this because I’m dining tonight with my dear friend Dr. Lee Gregory. He’s led us to Taverna Kos by chance, after a random selection from my restaurant spreadsheet. It’s 20:30 on Saturday night and I’m thirstier than I am hungry….but this is hardly news.
Mythos, Ouzo and water are the only things we’ll be drinking tonight. You are thus spared my amateurish attempts to describe wine. Instead, I’ll burn a few sentences on Taverna Kos’ noteworthy decorative elements, of which two floor-to-ceiling, surprisingly realistic, plastic bay trees are perhaps worthiest. I’m briefly baffled by the idea that somewhere in the world there are factories, probably employing thousands of skilled people, contributing to a global supply chain for artificial Mediterranean trees.
On with the dinner. A very amiable chap with an exciting handlebar moustache, definitely batting for our team, is to be our waiter. He brings over some warm crusty bread in a basket lined with red Gingham cloth, and a plate of herbed and spiced olive oil. The latter is remarkably good and lasts no more than a few minutes. Apropos Gingham, I am delighted to see that every table is double-decked with blue checked tablecloths. Loving this, as you might expect.
From a fairly conventional Greek menu, we opt for a couple of shareable starters, Fava and Spanakopita (both favourites of mine). These are on the table ten minutes later. The Spanakopita are extra-crunchy, chock full of spinach, and are served with some industry-standard tzatziki. The fava is a bigger hit. Smooth, plentiful, abundant in spring onion, capers and a good sousing of olive oil. A spritz of lemon makes this sing. We demolish it in no time. To hell with the digestive consequences.
There are a few decent seafood options that I could happily entertain, and I’m feeling drawn toward some jumbo prawns. But after seeking our waiter’s wisdom, I decide on a classic moussaka. This seems like a fair test. Lee needs Greek meat and plumps for Bifteki. Before too long, I start to slide into that lovely, fuzzy warmth that Ouzo reliably brings me.
The obligatory over-dressed saladus-interruptus arrives and, as usual, warrants no special mention. Ignoring it gives me ample time to appreciate my surroundings. I am embarrassed to admit that of the twenty or thirty framed black and white photos of notable Greek sons and daughters, I can name only one. And it’s Nana Mouskouri. Still, this is one more than Lee, and he’s supposedly an intellectual.
On to the main event, conquering Mt. Moussaka. No human stomach could hope to absorb this in one sitting, which does rather take the pressure off. Smooth, calming Béchamel is exactly what’s needed (in spades) to counter the intensively seasoned lamb mince. In truth, this is too salty for my palate. Thin slices of aubergine are involved, though not in any meaningful way. The accompanying tomato sauce is rich, sweet and warmed with a little chilli. Eaten all together, this works just fine, but I’m out-minced as soon the buffering Béchamel is gone. The Bifteki looks to be nicely charred, medium on the inside, and packed with feta, much to Lee’s approval.
Here, things start to slow down. Time is ticking on. A hiatus is welcome and gives me time to recollect my long-held plans to one day scale Mount Olympus, but we’re running dangerously low on Ouzo and our moustachioed waiter is AWOL. After thirty minutes of neglect, I’m approaching irked. Eventually, normal service resumes and we take the unorthodox step of ordering the special Schokolatina (chocolate soufflé). This turns out to be a surprisingly good decision. By no stretch of the imagination is this a soufflé, nor does it feel remotely Greek. It is, however, a delicious, pudding-y fondant, heavy with actual chocolate and served with vanilla ice-cream that I could swear is Walls’ Cornish. Coffee would have helped with this, but we lacked the foresight.
Instead, we wash it down with a little more Ouzo, which ultimately precludes the additional digestif I would usually insist upon. Having just passed the two-hour mark, it feels like we’re ready to wrap this up. The night is young and there are plenty more moustaches in town. Onwards!
My final tally.
Atmosphere 7/10
Food & Drink quality 6/10
Service 6/10
Value for money 7/10
6.5 / 10
“Come for the flora and Fava. Over-dressed & over-minced (criticisms fairly levelled at me in the past) also apply here. Skinny dip in a sea of Lee.”
