DINING REVIEW
Blu Greek Taverna
26 Mill St., Marietta
By MERIDITH FORD
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Published on: 12/14/2006
"MEDITERRANEAN AFTERNOON." That's the title of the
framed photograph hanging in the ladies' room at Blu
Greek Taverna in Marietta.
It's the kind of photograph to get lost in, a visual
repast of blue sea and white clouds with
intermittent streaks of sun.
the entire tavern looks as if it were airlifted from
the coast of the Adriatic — dramatic silk screens of
Mediterranean vistas take you beyond the
restaurant's walls to a place in your imagination
that is warm and sweet, with scents of citrus, sea
and salt.
The very real smell of kokinisto, a rich, tomato-y
beef stew, will bring you back to Marietta. Blu's
menu reads like a textbook of all things Greek —
flambéed saganaki, spongey triangles of salty feta
with fat Kalamata olives drizzled in oil, dolmades,
tangy avgolemono soup, mousaka. The wine list has
two offerings: red or white.
There is no need for novelty here, and you won't
find it. Greek food, like so many of its
counterparts in other countries along the
Mediterranean, is peasant's food. Blu's pretty
facade dresses things up in comfortable fashion, but
it is really just an honest neighborhood tavern,
filled with earnest dishes that encompass some of
the country's most beloved dishes.
Chef Yiannis Kourkoulos often has little specials
that you may have to ask about. One evening I almost
didn't save enough room for bougatsa, one of the
many custards Greek and Turkish cooks make with
semolina and envelope in layers of phyllo. Blu
serves a wealthy portion with drizzlings of sticky
sweet sugar icing and chocolate (couple it with
demitasse cups filled with strong Greek coffee).
But first, there is saganaki. Owner Jean-Louis
Constantinides is from Cyprus, and so Blu's kitchen
makes this dish of fried goat cheese with Cyprian
halloumi — rather than kesseri or kefalotiri cheeses
— and presents it traditionally at the table doused
in vodka and flambéed, the dancing flames squelched
with lemon juice. The amount of vodka was different
each time I ordered it; once there was so much the
dish tasted sort of like a really delicious
cheese-and-vodka martini.
Oretika (appetizers) are my favorite part of this
menu, especially the feta cheese and olives when
brought with a traditional horiatiki salad (here
with lettuce, though in Greece this would rarely be
included as an ingredient) of cucumbers and red
onions, tomatoes, peppers, feta and olives. Warm
pita is a perfect scoop for the whole shebang to
make its way to your mouth.
It's hard not to notice that most other diners order
some form of souvlakia, and the waitresses really
push the one dish of a mixed grill of lamb chops,
pork, grilled chicken and grilled beef on a heap of
lemon-and-oregano potatoes and pita bread.
Smaller appetites will enjoy the simplicity of
chicken souvlaki (kebabs), with roasted chunks of
chicken, a tomato or two and slivers of red bell
pepper, all possessing just the right amount of char
from the grill.
There are minor goofs — the kitchen is often out of
just what you were wanting most — Cyprian sausage
links or kokinisto, horta — and if it's working
towards 10 o'clock on a weeknight don't bother to
ask for coffee, Greek or otherwise: Once the kitchen
closes the waitresses are not interested in
extending your stay.
But the enchanting strains of staccato voices over a
balalaika hypnotize as much as the wine and almost
as much as the food.
Like the sunny photos that line Blu's walls, this
meager restaurant has a way of transporting you to
warmer shores, feta included.
