Diporto

Diporto is reached by descending one of two worn staircases at the corner of Sokratous and Theatrou Square. There is no sign, little decoration beyond enormous wine barrels, and no useful reason to ask for a menu. You sit where there is room, often beside strangers, and eat what the kitchen has prepared. Chickpea or bean soup, fava, potatoes, braised meat, fried sardines, bread, salad and wine from the barrel form the address’s enduring vocabulary, though not every dish appears every day. Lunch is the essential time to come, ideally before the pots begin to empty. The service is economical with words and the room is rougher than its fame may suggest; visitors expecting a curated performance of old Athens can leave puzzled. Accept the conditions and Diporto becomes far more interesting. Market traders, locals and travellers share oilcloth-covered tables in a basement that has resisted tidying itself for an audience. Bring cash, an appetite and flexibility. The lack of choice is not an inconvenience added to the meal. It is how the meal works.