Opinion
By Michalis Michaelides
Lately, I find myself talking more and more about my dining experiences. And, fortunately for me, I’m not the only one.
The last time I truly “lost my mind” over a meal, using a phrase my friend Giannis often employs in our 50 Best Restaurants meetings whenever he encounters a dish that blows him away, was a couple of years ago. It was at a nearly empty restaurant, where a dinner awaited us that would etch itself permanently into my culinary memory. Or at least, it did for me.
That evening, we bypassed the opulent dining room of L’Atelier Robuchon at Marina Ayia Napa and took our seats on the lovely terrace overlooking the yachts. What followed justified every cent of the €125 per person degustation menu.
The amuse-bouche, arriving moments after we ordered, remains unforgettable: a masterpiece of parmesan foam and foie gras that still “haunts” me today, raising the bar higher than even Armand Duplantis clears in the pole vault. Pure genius from Chef Mathieu Desbat.
A few months before that dinner, and before Robuchon eventually topped the 50 Best Restaurants of Cyprus ranking, I had the chance to speak with Desbat, the French-born executive chef. He told me, “We always try to give guests an experience that leaves them with memories. It goes beyond just the food.” Months later, I was smiling in satisfaction, because that night, he delivered exactly that: a mind-blowing experience I carry with me to this day. I remember every dish. The roasted scallop with confit ginger and zucchini cream, the perfectly cooked pigeon, and the exquisite Guanaj dessert that closed our meal. Not to mention the superb wine list and the sommelier, whose pairings elevated the experience.
That pigeon dish brought a hint of Parisian flair to Cyprus, making L’Atelier Robuchon a remarkable local iteration of the original in Paris. Yet, as we all know, the restaurant eventually struggled with attendance and closed its doors—a reminder that even the most delicious pigeon can’t guarantee long-term success.
I bring up this “expensive” experience today to underline a point: that the dinner’s value absolutely justified its price. Something, unfortunately, that rarely happens in most of my dining outings.
If we set aside the occasional fantastic souvlaki or humble taverna with honest flavors and fair prices, in most other cases, the cost races ahead while the value lags far behind, sweaty and struggling to keep up. And that, I’d say, answers the most common question I hear from the inception of the Wiz 50 Best Restaurants: “How can a tavern sit next to a fine dining restaurant on the list?” The answer is simple:
When a tavern serves souvlaki that knocks your socks off, with quality meat cooked perfectly, balanced sheftalia, fresh Cypriot potatoes, salad with flavor, crushed olives perfumed with coriander, and homemade tahini; when the ingredients are carefully chosen, the pacing of the dishes measured, the wine list respects local vineyards, the environment is warm and welcoming, and the price is right—why not reward the effort with a high score? After all, it’s the taste and the value-for-money that truly matter, because these are what create memories, just as Chef Desbat so astutely said. The type of restaurant, its concept, or its decor alone won’t deliver that.
If a meal—any meal, at any restaurant—doesn’t linger in your memory for days, if you don’t share your enthusiasm with those around you the next day, then chances are your money wasn’t well spent.
It’s the value we should measure, chase, and celebrate—regardless of price.
*Read the opinion in Greek here.
