Opinion
By Michalis Michaelides
You know that moment when you’re asked to pay €9 for three tiny sheftalies? That’s when you start wondering if the bill secretly includes the server’s storytelling or the restaurant’s marketing pitch, because apparently, those are more important than the taste.
Tuesday night, I snagged a sidewalk seat at one of those “promising” restaurants: fire-grilled food, a small seasonal menu, local producer collabs, cool music, a stylish crowd, curated wines, the works. Expectations were high. I was waiting for a friend, flipping through the menu, and asked the server for guidance. “First time here, could you tell me the philosophy and the must-try dishes?” I asked, trying to look casual but intrigued.
Today’s dining trend has all that covered: seasonal ingredients, zero waste, chef supervision, and partnerships with micro-producers. Fine. That’s admirable. The problem arises when the server’s storytelling and the marketing hype completely outshine the food and end up on the bill.
We’ve all heard lines like “the eggplant is grown in a field next to the restaurant, watered only with Evian; the halloumi comes from Mrs. Eleni in the highlands of Paphos, milk imported from another planet; the cured meats are crafted in a basement in Pitsilia with only top Bordeaux wines; or the steak is from Cypriot cows grazing to Ludovico Einaudi while munching single-variety organic clover. Sure, it's fun to imagine, but when your wallet is involved, reality bites.
The result? Mediocre flavors, over-the-top marketing, and prices that make no sense. Paying €60 per person for a “bland” dinner, or €9 for three lonely sheftalies on a tiny plate, feels like getting swindled.
I respect restaurant work, it’s often a life investment for chefs. But respect should be mutual. Why overcharge for dishes that don’t deliver? Why treat sheftalies like Wagyu beef?
This approach hurts our cuisine. There’s a world of difference between savoring a halloumi sandwich at a Michelin-style spot like The Cross and paying €12 for half a grilled halloumi at a tiny sidewalk table by the road. It’s not the plastic chair or the sheftalia; it’s the logic that selling marketing is more important than delivering taste, quality, and fair value.
In short, if restaurants want to charge a premium, the flavor should match the story. Otherwise, the joke’s on us, and our sheftalies deserve better.
*This op-ed was translated from its Greek original.
