η ιστορία μας
Our story
Nona means grandmother. The name on the door is hers, and so is every recipe on the menu.
From the start
A kitchen, a notebook, a queue at the door.
It started, like a lot of good things in Zakynthos, with a grandmother who couldn't stop cooking. Sunday lunches turned into open tables, open tables turned into a proper taverna — gingham cloths, hand-painted menus, and the same recipes she'd been making for fifty years.
We still cook from her handwritten notebook. The moussaka, the gemista, the soup that fixes a long day — they all start the way she taught us: good olive oil, mountain herbs, patience.
Today the kitchen is run by her family, but the rules haven't changed. Fresh fish from the harbour. Vegetables from the garden. Bread baked the morning you eat it.
The kitchen
Slow food, the only way she taught us.
Nothing on the menu is fast. The lamb cooks for hours. The stifado sits in its sauce until the onions melt. The gemista bake until the rice is sweet from the tomato.
We grill over real charcoal, never gas. We salt our own anchovies. The tzatziki is made every morning, and we'd rather run out than make more in the afternoon.
It's not complicated cooking. It's just careful cooking — the kind you do for people you love.
η αυλή
The courtyard
When the sun goes down, the lights go on under the bougainvillea, and the courtyard becomes the best seat in Zakynthos. Bring a sweater for after midnight — and someone worth eating slowly with.