| As
Olympic athletes warm up in Athens, Hellenic hospitality
havens here hustle to catch the business breeze.
Well, no. The whole
point of restaurants like En Plo — latest of
a half-dozen lesser imitations of pioneering Estiatorio
Milos — is to beat the curse of Greek places
that overcook seafood to oblivion. If you remind them
of that, you may eat pretty well.
By now the formula
is almost monotonous: whole fish priced by the pound,
simply grilled and seasoned only with olive oil, lemon
and herbs, then smartly boned out The catch, a mix
of local and European specimens flown in fresh, is
prominently displayed on ice, like the ones that conversed
with Tony Soprano a few seasons back.
En Plo's fish speak
no English. If they did, they might grumble that this
is the least attractive of Greek eateries, with no
hint of the sunny land that inspired it — a
dark, L-shape chamber of timber and terra cotta with
severe little wooden tables arrayed in rows, like
a schoolroom.
Everything flows from
a small open kitchen at the rear. Chef Peter Spyropoulos
once worked at Milos. But one man does not a restaurant
make. And some nights, Spyropoulos seems to be the
only man on the job, just as a single waitress patrols
the whole floor — meaning long waits.
En Plo (which means
"Set Sail") offers a wider selection of
appetizers than its competitors. Predictable choices
like charcoal-grilled octopus and calamari "fried
to golden crispness" give good accounts of themselves.
Well-herbed pan-fried sweetbreads were as crisply
breaded as popcorn shrimp. Sides dishes range from
splendid roast lemon potatoes to well executed lame
and broccoli rabe. For dessert, stale baklava gave
honey-drizzled yogurt a run for its mediocrity.
Greece produces some
good wines. But En Plo's list is all-Greek, an object
lesson in taking authenticity too far. On good nights,
the place turns out some fine seafood — must
we have it with beer?
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