A trip fueled by olive oil, raki, and unsolicited second servings
Crete wasn’t a trip to be taken for the food. I came for the beaches and the trails. But on the third day, I noticed that the best part of the island was not the views. It was in the kitchens. And not in a glamorous, high-end sort of manner. I’m talking about local taverns, run by families, where the recipes have been passed down for decades and the menus are often handwritten or not written at all.
Here’s what a few days of eating like a local in Crete actually looked like.
First Night: A Quiet Taverna in Archanes
I began in Archanes, a tiny village south of Heraklion. It’s peaceful, with cobblestone streets and faded blue shutters. I was walking through the central square when I came upon a tiny spot with perhaps six tables and a minuscule kitchen visible from the rear.
No menu. The woman who invited me in simply said, “We have lamb, beans, and salad. Okay?”
Okay.
Next came the type of meal that makes you sit back. The lamb was tender, braised in lemon and herbs. The beans had been stewed with tomatoes and fresh olive oil that could have been pressed that morning. Bread was brought along with it. So was a tiny carafe of house wine. And just as I was finishing, she brought yogurt with honey and walnuts. Free.
That lunch was less than 15 euros. I left satisfied and a bit drunk.
Lunch Stop in Zaros
The following day, I drove in the direction of the village of Zaros, which is famous for something else entirely, its natural spring water. But hiding alongside the lake was a tiny taverna by the name of Votomos, and I thought I’d pop in for some lunch.
I had ordered grilled trout, which was fresh from the lake. It was served with lemon potatoes and a serving of greens that I did not recognize but willingly consumed anyway. The owner emerged halfway through my meal and asked me where I was from. We spoke for ten minutes, with a lot of him speaking and me nodding. He filled me with a shot of raki before I could refuse.
The food was great, but it was the service that lingered. You don’t simply dine at establishments like that. You’re actually treated like family.
Evening in Rethymno: A Family Affair
I happened upon a tavern in Rethymno that didn’t appear on any app. I noticed a cluster of older locals dining outside and thought that was a good omen.
Within, an older pair was managing the shop. The daughter was working as a server, and the grandson was assisting in the back. I was served rabbit stew, which is more intense-sounding than it is, and it was one of the most comforting meals I’ve had. Rich sauce on tender meat and that same crusty bread you see everywhere in Crete.
When I requested the bill, the owner produced a small plate of orange cake and stated, “On the house.” Another shot of raki. I left a tip, although I could see they didn’t anticipate it.
Chania: Tucked Between the Alleys
Chania’s old town is a warren of alleys and old Venetian architecture. I tracked down Tamam, a restaurant which isn’t so much clandestine as it is unobtrusive. It was once a hammam (a Turkish bathhouse), and the arched interiors make it a hip hangout.
I sat outside and had dakos, which is a dish with barley rusks with tomatoes, cheese, and olive oil on top. Then garlic and lemon-grilled mushrooms. The flavors were crisp, fresh, and satisfying.
What I enjoyed most was how relaxed everything was. Nobody attempted to turn the table over or hurry up the meal. I observed people passing by, couples lingering over coffee, and the light softening as the sun dipped behind roofs.
One Final Stop: In the Mountains
On my last day, I drove to the mountains just outside Anogeia, a village with a reputation for music and cuisine. I pulled over at a taverna where goats grazed in front. The owner spoke little English, but he nodded toward the oven and said, “Kleftiko.”
It was lamb, cooked slowly in paper with potatoes, carrots, and herbs. The kind of food that melts the moment you touch it. I sat outside beneath a tree, dogs lying around asleep, wind blowing through the hills. It was peaceful, plain, and somehow just the right way to conclude the trip.
Final Thoughts
Crete’s cuisine isn’t fancy. It’s not stylized or trendy. But it’s real. It tastes like someone did care when they prepared it. Every taverna seemed like being invited into someone’s home, even though they hardly spoke at all.
I didn’t take a lot of food photos. My phone was generally off the table. The food was too hot, too new, or too delicious to wait. And honestly, the memories that lingered weren’t about presentation or plating. They were about the individuals, the tales, and the manner in which each meal tasted like it had been prepared just for you.
So when you visit Crete, dine in the little restaurants. The ones owned by families. Not the ones with huge signs. You will have a full belly, perhaps a haze from the raki, and a real appreciation for how much love goes into a dish of plain food.