h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Not having received any wedding invitations this week, there was a below-zero chance of a huge free nosh on Saturday evening. To make matters worse, my wife had an "I'm not cooking" look about her when I made discreet enquiries of the evening meal earlier in the afternoon. That look inevitably determines a lengthy period of torture for me since I'm expected to sacrifice most of the afternoon preparing myself to 'go out'. Not only do I have the bathing, shaving and ironing-of-shirt routine to surmount, but I also have the prospect of parting with considerable sums of money in an overtly pretentious dining establishment for equally pretentious, but highly undersized, portions. It's not the way I like to do things.

In an attempt to mediate the situation, I reminded my beloved that Sunday required an unacceptably early start. "Yes", she said, "We can't be late. Why don't we go to Ttapis"?

It's not often that my wife is able to floor me with a single punch, but this was a totally unexpected, knock-out, blow. The woman of my dreams, my only love, my beautiful, stunningly-gorgeous wife was suggesting that we go to a place where a) I didn't need to dress up, B) served humungous portions and c) charged a pittance for the best grub available on the planet. I was so overwhelmed that I kissed her.

Ttapis is a traditional Cypriot Meze house. You will have, no doubt, espied the erroneous employment of a capital 'M' on the word 'Meze', but fear not; this is a meal of such gargantuan proportions that I feel its use is entirely justified. A Cypriot Meze is unlike any other. Meze, originally, was served as hors d'oeuvre, or an appetiser before a meal. The Cypriot Meze is the meal itself comprising many small dishes of different ingredients and flavours. I like to think of it as sampling the entire menu one bite at a time.

We arrived at Ttapis at 5.00pm; I wanted to allow 3-4 hours to relish the feasting experience before the Cypriots began to arrive at 9.00pm (the typical evening-meal time) and the place became log-jammed. We chose a table, and as the waiter promptly arrived with the menus, we waved them away. "Ah, my friends", he said with an appreciative sparkle in his eye, "You have Meze. You pay special price. Meat or fish"? "Meat", we said in unison.

A few moments later the first of the unstoppable courses arrived. Here's how the meal shaped up:

Large bowl of Greek salad, topped with feta cheese. Served with a half-loaf of rustic village bread.
Taramasalata, hummus, tzatziki and tahini dips served alongside goats-milk yoghurt, olives, dill and warmed pitta bread.
Grilled halloumi - a traditional cheese that doesn't melt when heated.
Afelia - marinated pork (red wine and coriander) which is then stewed for 8-13 hours.
Souvlakia - skewered pork cubes cooked over karbouna (charcoal).
Stifado - beef stewed with garlic, tomatoes, onion, cinnamon, vinegar and pepper.
Sheftalia - ground lamb (sometimes pork) mixed with onion and parsley, formed into a short, fat sausage and bound with caul fat (the membrane that surrounds a pigs stomach).
Kleftico - 'Thieves meat'. Goat (occasionally lamb) slowly cooked to replicate the ancient habits of rustlers.
Dolmades - Small parcels wrapped in vine leaves. The contents are rice, pine nuts and herbs.
Yemista - Vegetables (usually tomatoes which, incidentally, are a fruit) stuffed with rice and ground beef.
Tavvas - Baked Lamb and potatoes with tomatoes and onions
Lountza - Pork tenderloin, soaked in brine, then marinated with red wine. Dried, smoked and aged.
Keftedes - Meatballs laced with mint.
Koupes - (Pronounced Cour-ess) Ground mince, formed into the shape of an American football and heavily dusted with bulgur wheat and then deep fried.

Regrettably, brevity only permits me the opportunity to detail some of the more exotic dishes. In between such delights there are, of course, servings of jacket potatoes, seasonal vegetables, char-grilled steak, chicken, rabbit, chips and other similar fillers that need no further explanation.

We called a halt after the Koupes, as dictated by custom. In a good Meze house, the food will keep coming until you request it to stop. You are not expected, or encouraged, to waste, but in true Cypriot hospitality you'll be served until sated. Meze houses in tourist areas will typically serve a set number of courses, usually numbering 10-15. Off the beaten track, in places like Ttapis, you'll still be expected to find space for complimentary brandy and spoon-sweets after the meal. We always reserve a little room for these; it'd be impolite (and is, indeed, considered rude) to refuse the offer from your hosts.

Before I close, allow me to satisfy your fervour for the particulars of the special price that Savvas offered as we were seated. All Cypriot restaurant menus must be approved annually by the Cyprus Tourist Organisation (CTO) and the prices stated are then fixed for the year. This, ultimately, involves a degree of 'loading' by each establishment in order to offset potential price increases. Locals don't, and won't, pay set prices. When you are able to demonstrate (as I convincingly did with a wave of my hand) that you are an impoverished native, you are then invited to take advantage of parish-pump prices.

Meze for two - €22. Bottle of wine - €7.

That's a gut-buster, for two, including swally for less than my wife spends on a lipstick. I was so delighted with the consummate experience that I suddenly found myself feeling unusually generous. I rounded the bill up to €30, waddled out holding my stomach, and belched.

I so love my wife.

And Ttapis.