HOMELY: A lemon tree and painted taverna façade bring a Cretan village square to Tây Hồ. VNS Photos Alex Reeves

AF Reeves - @afreeves23

One of the perks of this gig is that I get the opportunity to shine a light on some lesser known spots across Hà Nội and beyond. I'd go as far as to say that seeing a place grow in popularity after I've covered it, coincidentally or otherwise, is the most satisfying part.

But do you know what else is incredibly satisfying? Greek food, and lots of it. Not every article can lead readers to a hidden noodle spot in a far-flung part of town. Sometimes I really want to try the places everybody else seems to love and decide for myself whether they "deserve their flowers" (Christ, I hate that phrase). So I paid a visit to The Greek Taverna.

Full disclaimer, and with no intention to gloat (well, perhaps a little), I spent the last few weeks of my summer taking it easy in Lentas, a small village on the south coast of Crete, the island Christos, proprietor of the taverna, hails from. Upon learning of my summer, he was more than happy to berate my longtime travel buddy Leon, with whom he's already acquainted, for not saying something. It turns out Christos has business and friends on the island, and he would have insisted we break bread and drink raki with them. Better known now than never.

That short anecdote should set the scene for the kind of greeting you can expect. Somewhat prepared for the larger-than-life character friends had described, I certainly didn't expect the pleasure of his company as the tables emptied out into the Sunday night, yet that's exactly what I got, along with the tale of how Greek food found its way to Trịnh Công Sơn Street.

It begins in a London hotel room some 15 years ago. A business deal had fallen through, the television was on, and the Top Gear Việt Nam special planted an idea. On holiday in Nha Trang, he noticed a little place he thought looked nice. Days later, talking business with a local, he was offered that very spot. Fate, karma, call it what you will. He paid for his first restaurant with the holiday money in his pocket. Odysseus needed 10 years, and to embrace the wrath of Poseidon to get where he was going, Christos needed a fortnight's spending money.

He can now boast an impressive four restaurants across Việt Nam, but it's Hà Nội that is home. Against all advice, he chose this quiet stretch over Xuân Diệu or Mã Mây for its neighbourhood feel. Looking out at the water and the peace of the area, he says, he knew it was the better choice. He's also quick to share the credit. "Without my wife, Maria, I wouldn't have been able to achieve any of this," he tells me. Thanh Thủy, his manager, has been with him since the beginning and is, to all intents and purposes, family.

The dining room is simple: wooden tables and chairs, brightly painted doors and Greek signs on the walls, greenery trained along trellises across the ceiling. A lemon tree stands at the back beside a wooden faux taverna façade that houses the kitchen. It's dimly lit, modest and well done, without trying to be something it's not. It was busy all evening with families, dates and a healthy ratio of locals to 'expats'.

Still, for all the warmth of familiarity, or icy ouzo clouding over a single cube, I'd like to think my judgement can't be bought. A Cretan summer may be the perfect icebreaker, but it also raised the bar. With the creaminess of the tzatziki and the sourness of the lemon still fresh enough to taste, I wasn't after a long-lost craving. I wanted the real deal.

Christos's rule is simple: only serve food he would eat himself. Olive oil, olives, oregano and feta are imported; everything else, from the yoghurt to the pita, is made in-house, fresh for each portion. That isn't open to compromise, as I found out.

Rammed from the minute they opened, they had run out of pita by the time we sat down, and rather than parachuting some in from the local import mart, they owned it. Had the meal been less satisfying, I might have taken more umbrage, but it's hard to be mad at a restaurant that's a victim of its own success, and the bread we were given did nothing to diminish what came with it.

The Mix Dips (VNĐ160,000) arrive in a row of little glasses. Flavour-wise they were exactly as one could ask for, the tzatziki above all, straight back to Lentas. The skordalia had garlic, though I'd never say no to more. My gripe is the format. Call me old-fashioned, but I like my dips on a flat surface I can get stuck into, not at the bottom of a short glass.

The féta psití (VNĐ150,000) is a return to Greece. Salty from the feta, sweet from softened onion, in a tomato sauce that is just oh so rich, it's a dish I want to stick my fork straight into, and I'd happily have had a bowl all to myself. The breaded feta balls were a welcome treat. A little indulgent, but that's the whole point of melted cheese in breadcrumbs, surely? Each sits on a small pool of reduced strawberry sauce which, we were proudly told, is not a jam and has no added sugar. A dash of mint makes it taste a little more grown-up.

The kalamari (VNĐ160,000) is extra crisp, battered and fresh, nothing like the frozen rings with cheap mayonnaise found on some menus, and comes with more tzatziki, of which there can never be enough. The gavros (VNĐ110,000), marinated anchovy-like fish, glistening in oil, sharpened by their vinegar cure: a welcome salty bite through all that tomato and herb. I'd order them as a staple.

APPROVAL: The beef mousaká, layered, burnished and in no hurry to collapse.

The mousaká (VNĐ180,000) is everything anybody would wish it to be. Potatoes that have given up almost all resistance, deeply savoury beef, all under a thick, burnished béchamel that holds its shape until your fork persuades it otherwise. There was a warmth of spice in there. Cinnamon or nutmeg? I'll be concentrating harder next time.

The Meraklis (VNĐ190,000) came recommended by the man himself, a Greek classic with roots across the Aegean, renamed for this menu. Meraklís describes someone who does things with passion and care, which seems about right. Beef and lamb mix patties sit on a bed of sautéed onion and tomato under yoghurt and a spicy tomato sauce. You can taste both meats, the tomato is rich, and the yoghurt brings balance to a plate of many flavours.

If anything is missing, it's only a cold bottle of Mythos, or a Greek white for the gavros.

I went in wondering whether this local favourite would fall short of the expectations my summer had built. I left relieved, and glad to have something so close by that could take me back there. The variety of the menu, the effort to keep things as authentic as possible, and the undeniably Greek instinct of a man who takes pleasure in working the room made it more rewarding than I'd care to admit. If the taverna had been in Lentas, we would have eaten there more than once.

We've been invited back at the soonest opportunity for the full, pita-filled experience, and it's an offer I'll gladly take up. Do they deserve their flowers? I still hate the phrase. But yes. — VNS

THE GREEK TAVERNA

Address: 77 Trịnh Công Sơn Street, Tây Hồ Ward, Hà Nội

Tel: 0702 770 090

Price: VNĐ1.6 million, roughly US$60 (four people, seven dishes plus drinks)

Dining companions: A hungry group of friends; this is food for sharing.

Top tip: Arrive early, before the pita runs out, and let Christos order for you.