The dining room at Metsovo feels positively prehistoric. Blackened by six years of smoke, a whitewashed fireplace blazes at the end of the room, and the senior citizens who frequent the place cluster at small tables like moths around the licking flames. The unvarnished brick walls stand so high that the ceiling remains indiscernible in the semi-darkness; from it droop wrought-iron light fixtures that might double as devices to torture peasants. Metsovo is a regional Greek restaurant that seems like an afterthought to the next-door and more mainstream Aegean, which shares the same kitchen. On a first visit, my designated eater (the guy who cleans all the plates after the other guests are finished) got lost in Aegean, but then surprised everyone by appearing through a secret passageway, like Theseus emerging unscathed from the... More >>>