Brothers Harry and Mario Kapoulas nail the high-low brief at Homer Rogue Taverna, serving spanakopita-topped flatbread, baked manouri cheese and “our mum’s moussaka”.
Greek$$
OK, very good. This is fun. There’s bread, dips and plenty of ouzo. All your favourite Greek singers and songwriters – Vasilis Karras, Pantelis Pantelidis et al – are pumping on the stereo and fat wodges of walnut cake come out on frosted glass plates. “Homer” is graffitied multiple times on a bare concrete wall and a long, blue Easter candle burns alone in the middle of the room. It’s a place where you can dress up to look nice and not be put out if there’s a guy at the next table wearing a backwards Oakland Raiders cap. Landing this kind of vibe isn’t an easy thing to do.
Brothers Harry and Mario Kapoulas opened Homer Rogue Taverna in August. The 100-seat restaurant is on the same built-up Cronulla block as their cafe, HAM (as in Harry and Mario), which has been trading in smashed avocado and sandwiches since 2011. Homer is a couple of steps up in its ambition and the kitchen, led by chef James Watson, bakes its own sesame-crusted koulouri rings, grills souvlaki, wraps dolmades and generally leans into Greek tradition with a high degree of enthusiasm. Locals are well into it, too: a recent Saturday lunch was packed with long tables of families and counter seats of young couples.
I thought Homer might be a stinker wholly because – and this is cynicism I’m not proud of – it serves a rooster stifado “cigar” in a metal ashtray. The edible cigar and ashtray number is an old hat-on-a-hat trick that’s long been a red flag for restaurants with more over-ripe style than substance. (See also viola flowers on sushi; sparkling wine listed under “bubbles”.) But the brothers know their market better than I do, and if you’re nine years old, an ashtray holding filo pastry with pulled rooster meat in a tomato stew is pretty cool, right?
With black sesame “ash” at one end, that cigar also happens to be pretty tasty, although it’s far from the best thing you can order. Silky manouri cheese (it’s like a milder feta) may take that title, sweet with honey, crunchy with kataifi and baked until it’s as bronzed as a Cronulla surfer dad. Order it with a bag of house-made, oregano-flecked chips (like the Smith’s kind) and something cold, white and Greek from the wine list. There’s usually at least one staff member on who can take you through the differences between assyrtiko and malagousia or recommend a nip of honeyed raki liqueur to cut through a rich slice of galaktoboureko custard pudding.
Bread is essential, either that warm, bagel-adjacent koulouri or a discus of spanakopita-topped flatbread. For dips, there’s a nicely whipped taramasalata and a spicy, cheesy tirokafteri that reminds me of the delicious stodge served at backyard birthday parties of childhood friends with a more continental European heritage than mine.
Pork and chicken souvlaki understand their smoky-juicy-meaty assignment; “Our mum’s moussaka” is a perfect square of beef and bechamel served properly hot. Good on you, Mrs Kapoulas. “Spanakorizo with fish” is a creamy mix of spinach, lemon and rice, surrounding – on one of my visits – a fillet of pink rock ling calling out for more seasoning. Ditto a side of lemon potatoes: a little bit of extra salt would go a long way.
Do non-Shire folk need to travel here for the experience? Not really. Olympic Meats in Marrickville and Redfern’s Olympus Dining nail a similar food brief to more consistent effect. But if you’re a local who likes to be looked after by a team committed to every guest having a beaut time, while listening to some modern bouzouki-playing and eating a silly amount of cheese, this is the best restaurant to open in Cronulla in years.
The low-down
Atmosphere: Modern taverna catering to multiple generations
Go-to dishes: Spanakopita flatbread ($17); baked manouri cheese ($24); “Our mum’s moussaka” ($32); walnut syrup cake ($18)
Drinks: Considered two-page list of Greek and Australian wines, plus a party-starting range of cocktails and aperitifs
Cost: About $140 for two, excluding drinks
Good Food reviews are booked anonymously and paid independently. A restaurant can’t pay for a review or inclusion in the Good Food Guide.
This review was originally published in Good Weekend magazine
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