Mediterranean Kitchen In Covent Garden

Elia means olive. Which is either beautifully simple or a slightly on-the-nose way to name a Greek restaurant, depending how much wine you’ve had. We had quite a lot of wine, so we went with beautifully simple. It’s tucked under the vaulted brick cellars of Covent Garden’s Market Building — the bit of the piazza that still feels like a market even when you’re sitting down.

Not a taverna-on-a-cliff. Not a whitewashed Mykonos set. Just brick, olive oil, and the sort of lighting that makes every plate look like it has been styled for a small, expensive magazine. Which, if I’m honest, is why I wanted to come.

Mario wanted to come because he is Greek and therefore constitutionally required to have an opinion about moussaka in a 400-metre radius of the Royal Opera House.

Bobbin: I was not invited. Typical. Bring home a catty-bag.

What we actually ordered

We did the only sensible thing in a place built for sharing: we ordered like we were feeding a small village and then ate it ourselves.

Start with the Kalamata Greek Olives (£5). Oregano, olive oil, lemon. Not a garnish. A statement of intent. Then the Tahini Dip (£7) with warm pita — creamy, lemony, the sort of sesame situation that makes you forget hummus exists for a few minutes. Good pita. Fluffy, not sad.

Then the plate I would happily have framed: Cretan Whipped Feta (£10.50). Velvety feta folded with Greek yogurt and Parmesan, then basil-pistachio pesto, sun-dried tomatoes, toasted pistachios, fresh herbs. It arrives looking like someone has taken a meadow and a cheese counter and introduced them at a very chic party. I loved it for the presentation. I loved it more for the nuts. Mario loved it because it tasted like someone in Crete had been paying attention.

Baked Halloumi with Thyme & Honey (£10.50) is the golden one — oven-baked, not the usual squeaky grill job, with tomato salsa, herbs, olives, capers and a pomegranate dressing, finished with thyme honey. Sweet, salty, sticky. The halloumi actually does something interesting instead of just surviving the heat. Dangerous.

We ordered the Baked Portobello Mushrooms & Spinach (£11.50). No regrets. Roasted caps stuffed with garlic spinach and a rich blend of Greek cheeses, which is a polite way of saying “this is what happens when a mushroom decides to become a main character.” Order one if you are sharing politely. Order two if you are us.

The prettiest thing on the table, and I will die on this hill, was the Velvet Aubergine & Rose Petals (£11.50). Slow-brined, oven-baked aubergine, roasted pepper and walnut mezze, silky whipped feta-tahini cream, seasonal herbs and edible flowers. It looks like a still life. It tastes like someone has taken every good walnut in the building and given it a job. If you come for one plate because a photograph told you to, make it this one.

Mezze complete - it was time to order some bigger dishes: Greek Salad Pizza (£11.50) for me — tomatoes, feta, olives, cucumber, oregano on a Mediterranean flatbread situation.

And for Mario, the Meat Moussaka (£16.50). Layers of roasted aubergine, potatoes and seasoned minced meat under béchamel and Parmesan. This is the point at which Mario went quiet in the way only a Greek man goes quiet when the béchamel is correct. I will not attempt a technical verdict. I will just say he did not send it back, which in this household is a standing ovation.

The Dessert & Drink Situation

The Ferrari Hugo (£14.50) — Ferrari sparkling wine, elderflower, mint, soda — which is basically a garden party in a glass, and the house Sangria (£14.50), red wine and seasonal fruit, which is not Greek and nobody at the table cared.

Finish with Baklava (£8.50). Filo, walnuts, syrup. Not reinvented. Not deconstructed. Just baklava, doing the thing baklava has been doing for a very long time. More nuts. I was delighted. Bobbin would have been unbearable.

Eleven plates and glasses. £121.50 before you start arguing about service. For two people that is a proper feed, not a “we’ll grab something after the show” situation. Come hungry, or come with four people and still order the aubergine twice.

The Sidetrack take

This is not “authentic village taverna, plastic tablecloth, yiayia in the kitchen.” It’s Covent Garden doing Greece-Cyprus-islands with good olive oil and a slightly theatrical plate. If you want sand on your feet, book a flight. If you want a cellar, a sharing table, and dishes that look like jewellery and taste like someone remembered the walnuts, this is the one.

I came for the pretty. Mario came for the moussaka. We both stayed for the pistachio pesto. That feels like a fair division of labour.

Bobbin: Cheese is an acceptable tribute. Flowers on food are suspicious. I remain uninvited.

— Cat, Mario & Bobbin

Sidetrack.London