In southern Greece, at the foot of Mount Artemisio, is a tiny village called Nestani. About 500 people live there, some still herding goats, as did their fathers and grandfathers before. Above the town, built into the imposing Rock of Goulas, is a monastery, founded in the 13th century. And on the gate of that monastery is an inscription, honoring the women of “Sikago” for their generosity sending money back for renovations.
Local lore insists that more people born in Nestani live in Chicago than live in the village itself. Many came here over the past century and made a good living.
One of them is Petros Kogiones, whose Dianna’s Opaa was a beloved fixture on Halsted Street from the mid-1970s to the mid-1990s.
“From every other house somebody came to America, came to Chicago,” Kogiones, 89, remembered when I phoned to chat. “Some had coffee shops or candy shops.”
Why did Greeks go into food service?
“It was the natural thing to do,” said Kogiones. “For Greeks, it was the easiest thing. With a lack of language, what else could they do? Wash the dishes. Cooking, like me.”
Dianna’s closed 30 years ago. But we are still a city blessed with excellent Greek restaurants. My favorite, Psistaria Greek Taverna on Touhy, is a boisterous room. Lively service. And great food. The chicken spanaki. The center cut pork chops. The green beans.
Chicago’s Greektown was decimated by the twin blows of UIC and expressway expansion. But there are still plenty of Greek eateries on the shred that remained: Greek Islands and Athena and Artopolis Bakery, where I would reverently visit to stock up on melomakarona, those luscious honey cookies, before diabetes made the practice unwise.
And those are just the old school places. There are many newer Greek restaurants like Lyra in Fulton Market and Elia in Bucktown.
With more coming. In Tuesday’s paper, we learned that a La Grange restaurant, Prasino, is opening in the base of Trump Tower.
Normally, I’d welcome any addition to the Greek restaurant pantheon, particularly one as centrally located as Wabash just north of the river.
But these are not normal times. My immediate reaction to the news was, “Did you you read the room?” Restaurants are more than food and service and a nice setting. Karma is involved. They tore down the Brown’s Fried Chicken in Palatine where seven employees were massacred in 1993 because nobody wanted to eat there after that.
As to whether Trump Tower deserves the same level of ignominy, well, I guess that depends on how dearly you cherish American values and traditions. I happen to cherish them a lot. But I also know that I’m not the only person in the world.
“We view this as a hospitality investment, not a political statement,” Prasino owner Ted Maglaris told the paper.
Give the man credit. He bit at a baited hook that has dangled for 17 years in front of every restaurant group in Chicago: Lettuce Entertain You and Boka and Gibsons. None of them hazarded a nibble. It takes a certain kind of courage to make your hospitality investment there, to plant that hook in your cheek, eyes wide open.
“It’s not about blue, not about red,” the property leasing agent, Jason Pruger, added. “The most American thing is green… It’s about making money.”
He’s got that right. That certainly is the philosophy of our elected officials turning the United States government into a personal piggy bank. They are making money big time.
But going to restaurants for most of us is not about making money, but spending it. And knowing that part of the price of my avgolemono soup is going to pay rent to the Trump Organization, well… bad enough I have to pay taxes that pay the salaries of Stephen Miller and JD Vance. Yes, Kogiones would praise Nixon in the little speeches he gave every night at 9 p.m. at Dianna’s. But this is different.
Are the people lining up to take selfies flipping the bird at Trump Tower going to upload their shots onto social media then hurry into Prasino for moussaka? Maybe. Maybe the crowd from Orland Park and Burr Ridge will slap on their red MAGA hats and go show support for the president by ordering the imported sea bream. They exist, and I’m sure to hear from them. “Steengold — thank you for alerting me to the pending arrival of Prasino — I will be going there with my Atomwaffen Division cell to celebrate next April 20!”
I hate to rain on anybody’s dream. Prasino is opening in early 2027. If there are free and fair elections in November 2028, I’ll slide by the new restaurant for a celebratory meal. Underline that “if.”