At Zavós restaurant, where chef Eleni Gehrke creates perfectly imperfect versions of dishes from her birthplace in Thessaloniki, Greece, the words from John Keats' iconic "Ode on a Grecian Urn" could be inscribed at the bottom of the menu: "Beauty is truth, truth beauty." No matter whether you're familiar enough with Mediterranean cuisine to know if Gerhke's tiropita and melizanosalata taste like the true Greek dishes, you can tell immediately that her cuisine is true home-cooking. Therein lies the beauty of Zavós.
Of course, literary inscriptions are far too stilted and stuffy for the easygoing East Nashville eatery at the intersection of Porter Road and Riverside Drive. Owned by Eleni's sons Niko and David, the restaurant is a family affair, where Eleni, her sons and husband Chuck weave in and out of the kitchen, helping create and deliver plates of colorful, fresh and comforting food.
Anyone whose mother ever told them at dinner time, "I'm not running a hotel here," will appreciate the efficiency of Zavós' menu, which lists just over a dozen of Eleni's traditional recipes. Some, like souvlaki, are familiar. Others, like kafteres, are not. The brevity of the list no doubt accounts for its consistency: With so few items, a chef can concentrate and perfect them.
"I cooked all my life," says Eleni, a.k.a. YaYa, which is Greek for grandmother. (Zavós is Eleni's maiden name.) Raised with eight siblings in Greece before arriving at Fort Campbell with her husband 20 years ago, YaYa grew up in a farming family. An earthy, rustic quality infuses her cooking. Maybe it's the reassuring irregularity of hand-stacked phyllo sheets. Maybe it's the unusual abundance of garlic in the zingy eggplant salad. Or, as Nathan Hughes, who is training in the kitchen, says, maybe it's "love."
"Cooking with love" is a phrase chefs throw around when trying to describe the mysterious element that makes food stand out. Like porn, it's hard to define, but you know it when you see it. You see it at Zavós.
"Everything is by heart and feel," says Hughes, who says there are no measuring cups in the kitchen. Listening to Hughes and YaYa banter in the kitchen—as she schools him about secret ingredients, the difference between uvarlakia and the proper spelling of papoutsakia—the work sounds like fun. That attitude overflows into the dining room, where YaYa greets customers, patting the heads of kids—including her own grandson—dining in the family-friendly place.
A long shotgun room with large windows facing the street and a majority of tall tables, Zavós has the feel of a bar—no surprise, given that the location operated irregularly as Niko's bar before Niko and David, a carpenter, rehabbed the space. Adorned with red floors, green walls, exposed ductwork, concrete tables and gem-colored pendant lighting, the room has an understated sultriness. The fact that Zavós looks like it ought to have a menu of hackneyed bar snacks likely adds to the surprise and satisfaction, when instead of tater skins and sticky sweet wings emerging from the kitchen, it's brilliant bowls of horiataki (salad overflowing with red tomatoes, black olives, green peppers, cucumbers and feta with olive oil and vinegar) or soothing cups of fassolatha (white bean soup with garlic, onion and tomato).
The Mediterranean platter made for an abundant opener, with a half-dozen fluffy warm pita squares slathered in olive oil and circling a medley of eggplant salad, creamy hummus tinged with paprika, strips of marinated roasted red peppers, a hunk of crumbly feta and a thick dollop of tzatziki (sour cream riddled with garlic, cucumber and laced with olive oil). Yaya is not baking her own bread at Zavós, but the soft grilled patches of pita—which show up on several dishes—are an admirable stand-in for homemade.
Spanikopita layered paper-thin sheets of phyllo with a light mixture of spinach and feta that was neither soggy nor greasy. Plated with a generous dollop of cool, thick tzaziki, the warm diamond of pastry was large enough to make a vegetarian-friendly meal. Tiropita was a similar presentation of phyllo layered with egg and feta, like a Greek spin on quiche.
A standout of our meal was the kafteres. Like a Greek interpretation of chile rellenos, two large neon-green banana peppers oozed with salty, bubbly cheese, which mercifully relieved the sneaky heat of the piquant pepper. With such vibrant flavor, one serving was ample for a group of four.
Fakí (lentil soup) and uvarlakia round out a trio of soup offerings. The latter is a silky egg-and-lemon broth with crumbles of meatball and rice. Served in a square white bowl, the soup deftly straddled the line between thin broth and thick creamy-based soup, and its smooth texture demonstrated its freshness, since egg-based soups such as avgolemono and uvarlakia tend to separate or curdle over time.
The limited menu lists only two main dishes. Beefteaki arrived with two large meatballs of chopped angus beef mixed with breadcrumbs, plated with four tiles of the fluffy pita, a pool of tzaziki and a side of soft roasted potato fingers, which melted away with a lightly salty finish.
The souvlaki plate offered a choice of chicken, pork or beefteaki on a longer strip of the same excellent pita, along with a choice of potatoes, cup of soup, salad or arraka—sweet peas cooked with crushed tomatoes, fresh dill, olive oil, salt, pepper, red onions and scallions. While we did not taste the peas, we have heard more about them than about any other item on the menu, so we won't overlook them again.
On our visit, cabbage rolls were the daily feature, and one worth crossing your fingers for. Large fronds of cabbage swaddled a medley of beef and rice flavored with parsley, spices and a subtle red tint of crushed tomatoes. Packed like stuffed grape leaves, the bundles were steamed until the sweet cabbage almost melted under the pressure of a fork. Two cabbage rolls ladled with velvety béchamel balanced a vibrant garnish of lemon slices and a choice of side. If the kitchen comes across just the right eggplants for papoutsakia—Greek for little shoes—take a chance with the eggplant halves stuffed with beef and cheese. The consistency of everything we ordered bodes well for Zavós' rendition of the traditional dish.
If there were one area that could improve—in addition to the long-awaited arrival of a liquor license—it would be dessert. Neither of the two offerings was a hit with our group. Baklava with walnuts and honey, flavored with cinnamon, allspice and nutmeg, was doughier than we expected, cutting more like a dry coffee cake than like flaky sheets of thin parchment. And in a meal in which most details are hand-wrought, we would have hoped for fresh whipped cream on the moist bundt cake topped with berry syrup, in lieu of a squirt from a can. But those are but minor flaws in the face of such natural beauty.
Zavós serves dinner Monday through Saturday. Beer is available and a liquor license is on the way.
Email cfox@nashvillescene.com, or call 615-844-9408.
Eric England
