Friday night dinner. Yiayia rolling pastries. Pappou turning skewers of lamb and octopus over the charcoal grill. Laughter. Conversation. Life lessons.
For twin boys growing up in the Adelaide suburbs, the weekly family ritual clearly made an impression.
So much so that, while already busy running a software company together, Savvas and Sotiri Vassiliou decided they wanted to share this Greek-Cypriot style of hospitality with the wider community.
Three years ago they leased the space below their business and opened a restaurant, Ammos, in North Adelaide. Then, towards the end of last year, they opened another.
Somma (Ammos spelt backwards) is midway along The Parade, at the start of the retail strip just up from Norwood Oval.
What was an Asian bistro has been transformed into a long, narrow dining room that reflects the newcomer’s ancient-meets-modern thinking.
Plain white walls are offset by textured finishes and stonework.
Illuminated niches hold earthenware jugs and vases sourced from the family’s village in Cyprus.
But the kitchen is nowhere to be seen, with food descending from upstairs by a hi-tech version of a dumb waiter.
Still, vastly experienced chef Grant Schooling ensures any logistical hurdles don’t impact what comes to the table.
He has visited the Vassiliou home, learnt some of their secrets and added a few of his own twists.
However, while the flavours mostly ring true, Somma is missing one essential ingredient: a sense of hospitality.
Our visit is also on a Friday night but this is no family dinner.
It is peak time and while turning tables is a necessary evil, it can be handled with a gentle touch.
When the ticking clock is front-of-mind and pushing through customers becomes a priority, it can colour the experience. More smiles and less radio headsets could make all the difference.
It’s left then to a plate of grilled kefalograviera cheese (aka saganaki) to do the talking with its naughty gooey middle and sizzled exterior.
All the natural saltiness is offset with a puddle of warmed honey dotted with thyme leaves.
Yiayia’s recipe for “koupes” results in small, football-shaped croquettes with a casing of bulgur wheat around a crumbly pork filling aromatic with cinnamon and other spices.
Poached and then grilled octopus has been allowed to keep its natural spring and even a little chewiness, rather than cooked to pulpy oblivion as this column has moaned about on numerous occasions.
The tentacle is cut into discs down to the thinner section with its charred tip, that is one of the best bits, tossed on a bed of taramasalata and finished with the lemon, parsley and oregano dressing known as ladolemono. Perfect.
The same green emulsion is splashed across a whole plate-sized New Zealand snapper that has been grilled with great finesse, the fillet from gills to tail peeling easily from the spine and rib bones without ever becoming dry.
Fried potatoes on the side could be crisper but are finished with a tangy lemon dressing.
Pastitsio is what would happen if spag bol and lasagne had a fling on a Greek island.
A beef mince and red wine ragu bubbles away for more than three hours, before being combined with soft pasta tubes and a bechamel that has been sharpened with feta and kefalotyri cheese. It’s like coming home to a roaring fire.
Desserts, unfortunately, don’t live up to the rest of the package.
A baklava “trifle” has the nut-laden pastries smashed at the bottom of a bowl, then buried beneath overly thick layers of custard and chantilly cream.
Galaktoboureko, a vanilla-slice-like treat that is a joy at its best, has a filo lid that is like soggy layers of paper. Not freshly made, it would seem.
Leaving a fair bit uneaten, then, isn’t so bad, when a manager wearing one of those headsets appears at our table a few spoonfuls in with the bill and a clear message. Our table is needed. The next group is waiting at the front. We have five minutes.
Fair enough. Our hour-and-three-quarters slot had expired. A little bit of warning and a friendlier approach, however, could have made a difference to our final impression.