The Whole Pita -- Greek Island Grille

I originally tried Greek Island Grille -- also called The Whole Pita on its web site -- based on an online review by local food fan OC Mutt (thanks!), and everyone I've brought there since then has liked it. So I thought it was high time to include a review of it on the OC Food Blogs. The restaurant is run by a Greek family, and they serve basic, authentic Greek dishes. Which means this is not a good restaurant for someone allergic to cheese, or who doesn't like garlic, or who insists on fancy plating. If you're still with me, read on... The restaurant is hidden in Yet Another Uninspired Strip Mall, but once inside, the place is cozy and homey and casual. It reminds me of the restaurants I've been to in Greece that catered to the locals, and not the "fancied up" ones designed to bring in the tourists. They have seating outside, but the decor inside is so charming -- at least, considering that they're in a strip mall -- that I like sitting inside. They have a couple of TVs (which I normally hate), but they only show beautiful photos of Greece, which helps rather than distracts from the decor. The photos are so beautiful that some of our friends, who had only been to Athens (which is great in its own way, but not exactly teeming with natural beauty), were wonder-struck and began talking about another trip to see the more rural parts of the country. First, to demystify the process: Pick your own table. You can grab a menu to look over your choices while your other friends arrive, but eventually you have to go to the counter, order, and pay. (Don't forget to tip the nice servers while you're there.) You get your own fountain drinks, but they bring you everything else. Each dish comes out as soon as it's ready, which can be a little chaotic with a large group, but hey, you're at a Greek restaurant: relax and go with the flow. The service is quick and everyone there is very, very nice. For first-timers, or anyone with a larger group, I'd suggest the Greek Island Variety Platter. It comes with hummus, melitzanosalata, dolmades, pita bread, tzadziki, spanokopita, feta cheese, and some olives. The only odd thing is that it comes with three dolmades, three pieces of spanokopita, and three pieces of feta. Which is perfect if you have exactly three people. Which we never do. Ah, well. My favorite of these appetizers is the melitzanosalata, which is an eggplant "salad" but is a far cry from the babaganouj I've tried and mostly disliked: the chunks of eggplant are juicy rather than slimy, roasted to give a wonderful smoky flavor. It's also chunky, mixed in with garlic, parsley, onions, and bits of roasted red pepper. The hummus is good too, and also chunky; it has just the right amount of garlic and herbs, with tiny bits of what look like tomato but are actually roasted red pepper. I like the tzadziki too: it's sufficiently tart and garlicky. I'd normally put more cucumber in mine, but I eat theirs with zero complaints. I love the pita bread here -- it's thick and soft on the inside and just a bit crispy on the outside, usually still warm from the oven, and sprinkled with a bit of cheese and herbs. The problem with the platter is that it doesn't come with enough pita bread for the sheer volume of dips; no problem, get another basket of delicious pita bread for 92 cents. Heck get two or three more baskets and take some home (it tastes almost as good the next day warmed up in the toaster oven). The dolmades (stuffed grape leaves) are very simple, as they contain nothing but rice and herbs, but they have a pleasant vinegary flavor to them and a nice bite. I'm known to be especially picky about my dolmades, and these aren't my favorite style, but I happily eat them when offered. The spanakopita was not as good this time as usual -- somewhat over-fried -- but that meant it was still good. Nothing spectacular, but then, it is supposed to be a simple dish. At the same time, how can you turn down fried filo with spinach and hot feta cheese inside? Okay, maybe you can, but I can't. The platter comes with Greek olives. I only started eating olives at all a few years ago, and it turns out that I still don't like Kalamata olives. But my dining companions this evening (one of whom is Greek and therefore automatically an olive expert) assured me that these were authentic tasting Kalamata olives. Now, if you were going to eat a reasonable amount of food, you might share the platter between two people, add a salad or cup of soup, and call that a fine meal. I've never managed to restrain myself that well here, but I thought I'd put it out there, just in case. This time I ordered the bifteki "pita bundle", which is a sandwich so big that it's hard to figure out how to fit it in my mouth. Soft warm pita bread, with a pile of lettuce, tomatoes, green onions, red onions, and herbs, and hiding somewhere on the bottom a hamburger's worth of beef, all topped with tzatziki sauce. Bifteki is described as "savory beef sausage" on the menu, which is a bit confusing, because it's ground beef patty, mixed with herbs. The beef was beefy and juicy: so juicy that halfway through eating the sandwich, the juices had soaked through the pita and compromised its integrity: I had to eat the rest of it with a fork and knife. This would have been easier if the sandwiches were served on plates, like the other dishes, instead of in paper-lined baskets. I can also vouch for the chicken souvlaki, which I think is my favorite so far. The marinade and grilling process locks in the juiciness of the chicken and adds extra spice -- and it doesn't soak through the pita when you order it as a sandwich. Although I ordered the pita bundle as a separate item ($4.95), you can also add $3 to add two side dishes, such as salad, or "Pappou's island fries". I've had the fries many times, although not on this particular trip. They're hard for me to resist: a medium cut, not very skinny and not very fat, so they're somewhat crispy on the outside and soft inside, with a generous dusting of herbs and Parmesan cheese. Another good option is a Taverna platter, which comes with two meats and a bunch of sides. Nobody ordered one the night I had my camera, unfortunately. It's a lot of food for $11. The Greek Village Salad is tasty: fresh-tasting, with big chunks of tomato and cucumber, and a decent balsamic vinegar dressing. Another side dish option is the "chicken rice lemoni" soup. However, the diners who tried it agreed that it wasn't "lemoni" enough. One diner didn't like it, the other really liked it. I didn't taste it, so I can't chime in. The lamb stew is a classic: lamb, tomatoes, onions, wine, herbs, all stewed until the lamb is perfectly tender -- and here's the clincher -- by someone else, who spent a lot longer on it than you felt like devoting to cooking that evening. I forgot to get a taste until after I was already satiated and the stew was no longer especially hot, and even so it tasted good. The rice was red, infused with tomato sauce. The rice comes separately and the idea is to combine it into the stew (or vice versa?). As someone who limits my carbs I always appreciate being able to mix in only as much rice as I like. This was Carter's dish, and he said it was "fine". Those of you who know Carter understand what high praise this is. In fact, perhaps I only need say this on behalf of the restaurant: Carter went back not only a second time, but multiple times. Wow! (I have a long list of restaurants in Orange County where we have only been once because Carter's was "not impressed" and thus, why bother going back?) I confess I never even noticed they had salmon on the menu, so I thank my friend Wayne for "finding" it. The dish as pictured does not appear on the menu, so he must have done some substitutions. Note that the menu only offers "penne pasta" but what he got was clearly spaghetti. (Since I find spaghetti to be Highly Annoying to eat, receiving it when I'd ordered penne would be a sore point for me.) Anyway, the pasta looks pretty boring: just doused in a bit of oil with parmesan cheese on top. The vegetables are great, though. I didn't try the salmon, but Wayne said it was fabulous (and it smelled delicious from the next seat over). They have a small selection of table wines, including a Chardonnay, retsina, sometimes a Sauvignon blanc, and one or two red wines that I can't remember now. These are table wines, so don't expect much, but they go down perfectly smoothly with the casual atmosphere, and they're a good deal at only $4.95 per (generous) glass. A caveat about the retsina, which is a Greek white wine that is flavored with, yes, pine resin: I will not promise you that that will go down smoothly, as it is definitely an acquired taste. On the other hand, if you haven't tried it before, this is a fine chance to give it a whirl. They also have some bottled beers. I've never paid for dessert here, although they have it on the menu. Every time I've gone there for dinner, they wait until you're done eating and bring you dessert for free. Maybe I'm just that cute, or maybe they're just that nice and want to encourage you to come back. I'm betting on the latter. Most times we've gotten little bowls of tart yogurt drizzled with wonderfully sweet honey, with chopped walnuts on top. Wow, so simple and yet so divine. It prompted the Serbian friend to ask the Greek friend, "Why don't we do this in my country?!" I thought much the same thing: we should do this in my country a lot more often. Yum, yum, YUM. I always think I'm too full to eat another bite by the time they bring dessert out, and next thing you know, my bowl is empty. The last time we came we were brought a few dishes of baklava for dessert instead, which was also very good -- not too sickly sweet, as it can sometimes be. In other words, this may not be the fanciest place in town (ha!), but it's good, heart-warming food from beginning to end. A practical note: it's somewhat hard to find this restaurant among the many signs in this area, especially now during the center's renovations. So don't bother looking for a sign. Just trust me, and park in the lot across Sunflower from South Coast Plaza, in the same general parking lot area as Cost Plus World Market and Red Robin, but closer to the corner of Bristol. Then go into the strip mall on the corner; the Greek Island Grille is down the stairs on your right. Enjoy! The Whole Pita -- Greek Island Grille 3940 S. Bristol St Santa Ana, CA 714.708.3000

Bayside Restaurant -- Newport Beach

I first tried Bayside Restaurant last month, during Newport Beach Restaurant Week. The promotion was successful, at least in my case, because I've already been back, this time for lunch with a colleague and a visiting scholar (yes, another work meal). Bayside is part of the "Dining As Art Collection" restaurant group, along with Bistango and Kimera. To tell you the truth, I didn't notice any art, but then, I wasn't looking for any. Still, the dining room is definitely aesthetically pleasing, with dark woods warming up the smooth sleek modern lines of the decor. There are three dining areas: a tall, open-feeling inside space on the bar side of the room, with a piano. My friend and I sat there last month, and enjoyed the jazzy piano player. Another inside dining room is on the other side of the bar, and presumably quieter. On my second visit, I sat on the patio, which offers comfortably padded wicker chairs and a nice view of boats in the nearby harbor. A table of "ladies who lunch" looked very much at home here, demonstrating their stylish laughs over a second glass of wine. On my first visit, I started with what they laughingly refer to as the "simple green salad." Yes, it is green, and it is a salad. But it is pleasantly un-simple. Circled by toast crisps, piled generously with wonderfully tangy blue cheese, it is sprinkled throughout with pine nuts and topped with julienned strips of crisp, sweet pear. The combination is not exactly unique, but it works well, and the high quality ingredients push it beyond "just another salad" status. Also, as I was reminded when the visiting scholar ordered this for lunch later, this is a big salad. If you consider that the cheese toasts are basically small sandwiches, you could count the salad as a light lunch all by itself. On my second visit, the waiter told us that we were very lucky to be there on a Wednesday, because the soup of the day on Wednesday is chicken, the virtues of which he extolled quite highly. So, I got the soup. The waiter may have exaggerated somewhat, but yes, it was good soup: flavorful broth, shredded chicken that actually tasted like chicken, well-soaked grain (rice, if I remember correctly) for added texture, and bits of vegetables. I would have liked more vegetables, but then, nobody ever gives me enough vegetables. The soup went well with the bread rolls, which are the round type that are almost-but-not-quite hard on the outside and soft on the inside. I slathered mine with soft butter and the bread was still warm enough to melt it just a little. The bread was thick and doughy on the inside, as though it were undercooked -- or should I say, as if everyone else cooks their rolls too much. Please, continue undercooking them. The wait staff noticed my first roll was gone and brought me another, so they get bonus points for not being stingy. My colleague ordered the tuna tartare as her appetizer, which looked excellent. Are we still doing stacks? Apparently so. I, for one, am happy to see one now and again. The stack was fairly simple as these things go: mostly tuna and avocado, with other decorative bits scattered around, all soaked in a sauce of soy, chili, and ginger that she remarked upon very positively. I realized later that I had salmon for my entree at both meals. For dinner the first time, I had oven-roasted wild mushroom crusted salmon, with potato puree, green asparagus, and Riesling sauce. The salmon was thickly sliced and meaty, with a perfectly crusty crust which added good texture, although it didn't taste much like mushrooms to me. The salmon was perhaps cooked a touch longer than it should have been, but was still within the acceptable range. The mashed potatoes and asparagus were unremarkable, even with the help of the sauce, which was fine (at least after I surreptitiously -- gasp -- added a bit of salt to it). For lunch the second time I had another baked salmon with another admirably crusty crust, but this time the crust was spicy: mostly pepper, with a touch of chile and something else, possibly cumin. Spicy enough to make my lips tingle, but still low enough on the heat scale to be appreciated by a wider audience. The salmon was thick and meaty again, and this time cooked to perfection. It was served on a couscous salad, which was room temperature, although the vinegary infusion made it taste cooler. The couscous had a nice texture, neither so dry that the individual grains fall like sand off your fork, nor so wet that it feels sloppy in your mouth; and although I assume it had oil in it to hold it together, it didn't taste at all oily. The couscous salad included cherry tomatoes, very thinly sliced strips of red and yellow pepper, minced red onions, and plenty of parsley. The zing level was right on, but again, I wish there had been more vegetables. The size of the dish overall was more than I needed for lunch, given the large bowl of soup I'd already consumed. I took home about half the salmon and two-thirds of the couscous, which was enough for another meal later. For her lunch entree, my colleague had the chicken breast with wilted spinach and lemon sauce. It looked fine, but I was more interested in the soft polenta that accompanied it, in a separate bowl. She did not seem crazy about it, and offered me a bite: I loved it! It had hints of corn pudding to it, which elevates it above the flavorless mash that is too often served under the name polenta. My guess about how it's made is that the polenta is mixed with crushed corn kernels, many of which are still mostly whole, and then baked in the shallow bowl. The smooth, thick polenta settles to the bottom, while the kernels rise to the top, solidifying into a chewier, chunkier layer. The result was a strong corn flavor and an interesting blend of textures. I had something chocolate and delicious for dessert when I was there for Newport Beach Restaurant Week, although I didn't take notes on it. The online menu says it was chocolate soufflé cake with hazelnut ice cream. That sounds about right: I only remember that I enjoyed it. On the second visit, we were running short on time, so we didn't order dessert. Bayside is not a top-dollar venue, but it's not inexpensive either. Dinner entrees are mostly $29-$32 (with two dishes priced at $20) and the charges for appetizers, drinks, and desserts add up fast. They have a relatively reasonable deal at lunch: $19.95 for two-course prix fixe, which includes any soup or salad and any entree (the pricier entrees cost an additional $3, but then, those entrees cost $19-20 by themselves). The deal includes a glass of house wine, a martini, or a non-alcoholic beverage. Forgetting to ask, I found out the hard way that their iced tea is flavored -- as I think of it, iced tea for people who don't like how tea tastes -- but it's more subtle than some. Overall, Bayside is a lovely dining experience. The food is good: a cut above many options in OC, with nice presentation and good flavor, if not foodie-level excellent. It's also a cut above in terms of price, which puts it somewhat out of range for me for "normal" dining, whereas the food quality is not quite high enough for me to endorse it for "splurge" dining. That said, I'll be more than happy to return whenever they have special offers, or when someone else is paying. Bayside Restaurant 900 Bayside Drive Newport Beach 949-721-1222 www.baysiderestaurant.com

Onotria Wine Country Cuisine -- Costa Mesa

I felt a little silly making reservations, since dinner with the visiting job candidate would be early -- 5:30 -- and there would only be four of us on a Wednesday night. Most of my experience with nicer OC restaurants implied that we'd be the only ones there for the first hour. When we arrived at Onotria, we felt even sillier, handing over our car for the complimentary but mandatory valet parking, as it would have taken us all of five seconds to pull into one of the many empty spaces ourselves. But we followed protocol, like well-socialized diners. As expected, we were the first to arrive in the dining room, shortly after it opened at 5:30, but I was surprised at how quickly it filled up. A large party started arriving by the time my wine was poured, and all but two of the tables in the main room were occupied by 6:30. The place was jumping! Well, jumping in a "somewhat older than we used to be, but hey, now we can afford great wine and excellent food" kind of way. Before I first went to Onotria, I had read many glowing reviews about the food. My high expectations have not quite been met, but I keep going back for more. Why? Because Onotria never bores me. You may know what I mean. So many restaurants around here have lovely settings, well-dressed waiters, fancy plating, pricey menus, and the same, dull, bland food that every other restaurant is serving. (Yawn...) By contrast, Onotria's menu consists of interesting combinations of strong flavors that keep surprising me. Onotria sometimes annoys me, but I have yet to find it dull. And on my never-ending quest for good food in Orange County, I find I'd rather risk being annoyed. Case in point: on a previous visit, my vegetable soup was unusually bitter. This was interesting -- since when is vegetable soup bitter? -- and could have been fine, but it was one-dimensional. It needed some bass notes to counteract the high-pitched squeal. A cabbage risotto with truffles was also too bitter: a sharp attack of a dish that needed a soothing round touch to smooth things over. I had the much-recommended pheasant on that trip, and found the bird to be delicious. However, the raisin and pine nut sauce was a bit too sweet, and although I liked it at first, it seemed to become sweeter and stickier with every bite until it was downright cloying. On the other hand, the seafood soup was interesting, if a bit under-salted. And the eggplant bruschetta blew my socks off: how can something as simple as smoked eggplant on toast taste so amazing? I didn't know, and didn't care -- and I didn't share, either. My meal this time hit more high notes and fewer low notes, I'm happy to say. The service was spot on, and I'm not just saying that because our waiter was of the especially handsome and charming Italian variety. Water and bread came quickly. The bread was warm and soft and good, although I was surprised to see it served with butter instead of olive oil. The wine my waiter suggested was new to me and interesting -- something from the bar that night that was white and tangy and full-bodied and whose name I never quite caught. His suggestion was especially welcome, because for a restaurant that has "wine" in its name, the menu has a distressingly short list of wines by the glass. Speaking of the menu, Onotria's is unnecessarily confusing. Again, they push away from the predictable, which I applaud, but then veer straight into the problematic. Instead of dishes being listed by type -- e.g., appetizers, soups, entrees -- they have some dishes listed that way, and others listed by what type of wines they best match. It's an interesting idea, and the wine suggestions are certainly welcome, but it complicates the process of finding, say, all the fish entrees. I had planned to eat lightly, but that failed as soon as I heard about the specials, or more specifically, the foie gras appetizer. I find it difficult to resist foie gras, and I'm glad I didn't this time. The foie gras itself was meltingly tender with the tiniest taste of gaminess: just enough to remind the tongue to stop and appreciate what is visiting it before letting it go. It was set on a piece of fried bread, surrounded by the first of three moats of wine sauce that my dishes would feature that night. The bread was scrumptious. In fact, I kept poking at it, trying to figure out what it was. The texture was just too perfect: soft enough to soak up the wine sauce for added flavor, while remaining crunchy enough on the outside to act as a contrast to the foie gras. It couldn't be just fried bread (but it was, as I checked later). The sauce was well executed too: flavorful, not too sweet, not too anything else either. After finishing the rest of the dish, I unceremoniously dipped more bread into the sauce, reluctant to let any of it go to waste. The only odd notes were a swig of rosemary that was so large that I felt I was excavating under it to get to my food, and some unidentifiable little, um, things scattered around the plate. I'm pretty sure they were dried fruits. That's what they looked like, at least. Too big to be raisins or dried cranberries. Too small to be plums. Too soaked in the wine sauce to taste like much of anything else. I kept tasting each one carefully, but ran out before I figured out what they were. The other diners had soup, which they seemed to like just fine. But to tell you the truth, I was so fascinated with my appetizer that I think I might have forgotten to look up the entire time. Was I too obviously ignoring my companions? I hope not. Next thing I knew, poof, appetizers are done and it's on to the entrees. My entree was odd. But then, I knew that when I ordered it, and I got what I asked for: tempura sea bass, with grilled eggplant and Kalamata olives in a Zinfandel reduction sauce. The tempura was excellent, with a big crunch, imparting the taste of quality batter and oil without even a hint of greasiness. The problem was that the flavor of the fish was all but lost inside all that wonderful crust, and all that was left was its soft texture. It seemed a waste of what I assume was a quality fish. The eggplant was fine, if unremarkable (perhaps my hopes were too high on that score), and matched well with the tasty wine sauce. The olives, however, were all wrong. What were they thinking? The flavors of the olives and the sauce clashed riotously: two great things that taste horrible together. I tried a second olive, and then a third, trying to will myself into "seeing" the combination function well, and I just couldn't get it to work. Yuck. Ah well, at least it wasn't boring. And the olives were separate from the rest of the dish, so they didn't interfere with it. Carter had another of the specials: fried quail with boar sausage over polenta. The polenta was creamy, and I noticed him mixing it with the sauce and finishing off every last bite. I had a taste of the sausage and it was good, although not as good as it should be. It's true that I'm a snob about sausage, but there it is: this sausage needed more. More spices. More flavor. Maybe more boar. One of our companions had the pheasant, which he enjoyed. I asked him if he found the sauce to be sweet, and he did, but he liked it that way. To each his own. At least I know now that it wasn't a fluke that mine was sweet on that previous visit. Then, dessert. Before I forget, I must compliment Onotria on their decaffeinated coffee. The others ordered cappuccino or espresso, but since I had an early morning the next day, I ordered just plain decaf. This is always a risky proposition, especially as I drink my coffee without benefit of sugar or cream to mask a bad brew. Most restaurants can't even get regular coffee right, and their decaf is even worse. But this was rich, full-bodied, and not the least bit bitter. I was almost worried it wasn't decaffeinated, but my quick lights-out early that evening seemed to confirm that it was. The four of us ordered four different desserts, but since this was a work rather than personal dinner, I didn't end up trying anyone else's desserts. They looked good, though: the crème brûlée had a well-torched topping, the zabaglione came with big chunks of fruit, and they didn't skimp on the serving of creamy-looking pistachio gelato. Still, I'm glad I ordered the poached pear in, yes, yet another wine sauce. The presentation was nice, with the pear sliced almost to the stem end and fanned out in the middle of a wide, shallow bowl, surrounded by the dark red liquid, with a large dollop of crème anglaise perched precariously on the pear. The texture of the pear was perfect, precisely between not soft enough and falling apart. It somehow managed to retain its pear flavor while also being transformed by the wine. The closest I can come to describing the flavor is: loud, bright, and sleek. The essence of the fruit -- both pear and wine -- was pared down and intensified, producing a powerful flavor punch that stayed true to the end of the dish, without getting either overpowering or dulled. The crème anglaise was a creamy rejoinder to the rest of the dish, but the logistics were tricky. The cream kept slipping off the wet pear and landing in the wine moat, where it immediately began to dissolve. Armed only with a fork and knife, I rescued as much as I could, but precious bits of dairy goodness slipped through the tines and were lost forever. By the time we retrieved our car from the parking valet -- who was tipped well for not grinding the gears in our stick shift -- we were well-fed and satisfied. All in all, it was a perfectly interesting meal, in a welcoming room, with courteous and competent staff. I'll definitely be back. Onotria Wine Country Cuisine 2831 Bristol, Costa Mesa CA 714-641-5952 www.onotria.com