Leaving Anthoula's

Taverna Anthoula doesn't look like the kind of taverna which you'd write home about. It's fairly non-descript from the outside, which isn't much of an outside as it's right beside the road just a few metres along the road to Epta Piges from the Kolymbia crossroads. Its menu is limited, although the food all of excellent quality, home made and very traditional. 
  
It often looks like it's closed but, go in through the door at any time of the year and you'll eat, though there may be no-one inside when you enter. Sure enough someone will emerge from the depths of the interior and welcome you. If it's a woman then it's likely to be Kyria Anthoula herself. If it's a bloke then it's probably her husband, whose name escapes me right now, so Mr. Yianniou will have to suffice. It's mainly an indoor place anyway, possessing only a modest outdoor courtyard with no view to speak of. Unless you consider the tarmac a view. On the other side of the road there are pine trees, under which it's usually easy to park, leaving one the short walk of a few metres across the road to enter the taverna itself.

You probably won't find Taverna Anthoula on tripadvisor, but don't worry, if you're hungry then it's a very handy way to remedy that situation when en route down the island from Rhodes Town to the South. We haven't been there all that many times. The last time was with our friend from Pilona, Brenda, following a garden-centre-crawl (talk about on the razzle, eh?) some time back. But it's Brenda who's prompted this post with a rather amusing tale about her most recent visit there with her friend Chris (female).

Having lunched and been well-served by Mr. Yianniou, as usual with their very good traditional Greek cuisine, they'd decided that maybe it was time to hit the road for the remaining thirty minutes or so drive back to the Pilona/Lardos area. Brenda called to the back of the restaurant for the bill from their host. Instead of the bill, however, he approached the ladies with a dish of four fresh oranges, along with a couple of knives to facilitate the job of devouring them. "What a nice thought" agreed our two heroines, who set about the oranges with the knives and a couple of serviettes to mop up the juice whilst confidently expecting Mr. Yianniou to return with the asked-for "logoriasmo" imminently.

As the bill hadn't materialised some 20 minutes later, Brenda called again, whereupon he approached once more, still not bearing the required slip of paper, but rather some "glyko tou koutaliou"...

 Image courtesy: http://argiro.gr/recipes/

If you haven't ever had the experience of being offered this stuff by a Greek host, it's the kind of thing which you would usually expect to spread on your hot toast, but here you're expected to eat it with a small spoon, a "μικρό κουτάλι" and nothing else. "Sweet" isn't an adequate enough description for this stuff; "instant diabetes" would be more accurate. But it's a kind of tradition for guests to be given it and I'm quite convinced (as I wrote somewhere in one of the books, can't remember where now though) that the Greeks only keep it so that they can shove it in front of unsuspecting foreigners, before retiring to safe distance and whipping out their videocams for something to show their mates and have a laugh at later.

Anyway, glyko tou koutalio dispatched down the hatches, Brenda once more ventured to enquire from Mr. Yianniou as to whether there was any fear of getting the bill before "lights out". He assured them that it would be forthcoming and soon emerged, all smiles and compliments, bearing in his hand, not the bill, but this time some crystallized oranges, which are, if anything, even sweeter than the previous offering and once more served in a small glass dish. The was no faulting this man's kindness, just the nagging doubt growing in Brenda's mind that she wouldn't be doing anything else this particular afternoon, as she was almost certainly going to be arriving home at dusk at the earliest.

Checking their watches our game ladies noticed that it was now approaching an hour since they'd asked for the bill, and so, once again, …well, you know what they asked for next of course, with just a trace of irritation in their faces, which were set with resolute smiles nonetheless. Soon their host approached, all apologies, insisting that they take coffee before leaving and deposited a cup of hot dark liquid before each of them, along with the customary separate jug of condensed milk and a couple of sugar lumps to the side.

Exasperated would be a good adjective to describe the feelings of Brenda and Chris by this time, but to their credit, they saw the funny side and agreed that, well, so the lunch would turn out to be three times as long time-wise as they'd planned. What the heck, the Queen wasn't coming to visit, after all. No real pressing need to dash home. Their coffees three-quarters consumed, Mr. Yianniou finally brought the bill, struck up another brief conversation with them about how they came to be living on Rhodes and where they lived etc., whilst also extending his deepest thanks for their custom and his hope that they'd found the meal to their satisfaction, accepted payment and retreated.

Almost in disbelief, Brenda and her friend realized that they were free to go! But leaving Anthoula's had proved to be a lot more difficult than they could ever have imagined. They'd do it again though, as would we, only perhaps on a day when we knew we had no pressing appointments later!