A small family table
by the Mediterranean.
Sixty years, three generations, and a view that hasn't lost a thing.
It started with a few wooden chairs and a charcoal grill.
In 1963, our grandparents pulled tables onto the sand and started cooking what came off the fishing boats that morning. They didn't think of it as a restaurant — just dinner, for whoever showed up.
People kept showing up. They still do. The chairs are sturdier now and the kitchen has electricity, but everything else is the same: the fishermen, the wood-fired grill, the slow Cypriot afternoon, the sea three steps away.
Three things we don't change.
From the same boats
We've worked with the same Limassol fishermen for decades. The day's catch comes to us first — what isn't fresh, we won't serve.
Cooked with patience
Octopus is tenderised by hand. Calamari is fried to order. Bread is warm. None of it is fast — and that's the point.
Open to the sea
Six steps separate our terrace from the Mediterranean. We built the place around that, and we'd never change it.
Come for lunch.
Stay for the sunset.
We're on the Amathus coast in Agios Tychon — just past the ruins, where the road bends to the water.
