Vtélé : 2011-10-27
La Grèce à C'est Extra! V télé
Magazine EnRoute - Air Canada : 2010-11-1
L’odyssée grecque
Air canada enRoute Magazine : 2010-10-31
Our Big Fat Greek Food Odyssey
Montreal Gazettee : 2010-5-8
Costas Spiliadis: Making waves by Lesley Chesterman
Montreal Gazette : 2010-5-8
After Cava, Costas Spiliadis looks to Vegas and Miami by Lesley Chesterman
Wine Spectator March 2009 : 2009-2-28
Great Restaurants, Editor's note
THE MONTREAL GAZETTE : 2008-8-2
It's come a long way, baby: by Lesley Chesterman
La Presse : 2007-12-8
Milos : destination poisson
ZAGAT SURVEY : 2006-6-26
2006/07 Montreal Restaurants BEST SEAFOOD
THE MONTREAL GAZETTE : 2003-4-19
Milos has never looked better: by Lesley Chesterman
LE DEVOIR : 2000-3-31
La Vénus de Milos, Jean-Philille Tastet
THE MONTREAL GAZETTE : 1991-12-4
Costas is an island of divine Greek madness, by Bee MacGuire
Une chronique sur la Grèce et les merveilleux produits qu'elle a à offrir
Voir la vidéo
Le chef montréalais Costas Spiliadis fait découvrir à notre journaliste les sept merveilles de la gastronomie grecque.
Par Alan Richman
Le Grec grisonnant à la camisole défraîchie et à l’air patibulaire se dirige vers notre table, installée dans une allée piétonnière pavée d’Athènes, au pied de l’Acropole illuminée de mille feux. Il fait dur. Ses vêtements, encore plus. C’est sans doute un sans-abri, ou encore, Grèce oblige, un fraudeur fiscal, qui profite de ce que les touristes sans défense doivent tenir à deux mains leur souvlaki pita. Lire la version intégrale.
Our Big Fat Greek Food Odyssey
On a culinary tour of Olympic proportions, two guys prove that there’s more to Greek cuisine than meat on a stick.
A story by Alan Richman
The grizzled Greek in the faded undershirt ambles ominously toward our table on a cobblestone pedestrian lane in Athens, the floodlit Acropolis beaming high overhead. He looks desperate. His clothes look worse. I figure the guy is homeless or, this being Greece, a tax evader, and has taken to stalking innocent tourists caught with their hands wrapped around souvlaki sandwiches.
Read the full story.
MONTREAL - Thirty years ago, Costas Spiliadis did something that most restaurateurs would consider professional suicide: He took butter off the table. In its place, he served olive oil – Greek olive oil. So perturbed were the customers that many starting bribing waiters to get them butter. Some went so far as to bring their own in their purse or pocket. Spiliadis, though, was determined.
“Oil, at the time, had a negative connotation,” said the owner of Montreal’s famous Milos restaurant over lunch last week at Outremont’s Leméac. “It was something that made diners think of cars and engines, not food. So the initial reaction was disappointment, anger and frustration. But I stuck to my guns and banned all butter from the restaurant, because if I gave up, my whole effort would be down the drain. Then, a couple of years later, the same people who were protesting were the ones commenting on the different aromatics in the olive oil.”
Spiliadis, 63, obviously revels in his achievement saying, “As we get older in life, it’s important to count what we’ve achieved. How many people know that we were the first to start serving olive oil on the table in North America?” (Though it would be impossible to justify such a claim, I can vouch for the fact that Milos was indeed the first restaurant where I was offered only olive oil with my bread.)
More so than any Montreal restaurateur, Spiliadis can spend plenty of time counting his achievements, both past and present. His three restaurants in Montreal, New York and Athens continue to improve and garner critical acclaim. And hearing about his future plans, there’s plenty on the horizon, as well.
His next phase of expansion will put him in the big leagues alongside the world’s top restaurateurs. With a new Montreal restaurant opening Monday, May 10, just down the street from Milos; a glitzy 200-seat restaurant slated to open in Las Vegas in December; a Miami restaurant coming in 2011 and a Greek cooking school in the planning stages for 2012, Spiliadis will be jetting back and forth to five different restaurants over the next two years.
It all started at the end of 1979 with the opening of Milos, a one-room taverna that gradually evolved into one of the city’s most successful and influential power restaurants. Yet this isn’t simply a glitzy eatery for business people and socialites. By placing the emphasis on quality, hospitality and never straying from his roots, Spiliadis made Milos not only Montreal’s top Greek restaurant, but one of the top restaurants in any category.
Spiliadis has been a precursor of many of today’s food trends, moving toward pristine ingredients, healthy cooking, simple preparations and cultivating a laid-back atmosphere in an upmarket setting.
His focus on ingredients is legendary. Customers feast on the reddest tomatoes, the most unctuous
yogurt, the plumpest capers, and the sweetest honey from the island of Kythira. Most of the fish and seafood proudly displayed in his North American restaurants is trucked in from New York’s Fulton Fish Market or flown in from Greece.
You’ll also find plenty of local ingredients on the Milos table, yet considering that Spiliadis’s mission is to help Greek cuisine claim its place next to the other greats of the world, one would not expect him to follow the locavore food movement wholeheartedly.
“An important decision for me at Milos was to bypass middlemen in purchasing goods. I went straight to the source. It was expensive and difficult, but it was the only way for me to acquire first-class ingredients. And I had to do it because I was on a mission to preach a food culture based on the fact that the ingredients are so beautiful that any attempt to tamper with them is both philosophically, culinarily and pragmatically wrong.”
Though Greek cuisine is often dismissed as “simple,” Spiliadis prefers the word “pure.”
“If you look at food cultures in Greece, Japan or the Scandinavian countries that are very close to their food sources,” he says, “you’ll see that their recipes aren’t elaborate because the ingredients are so fresh. Today, chefs are talking about simplicity in their cuisine because availability is less of an issue. The pleasure of a product at its best cannot be bettered by any manipulation. It takes hubris for a chef to put himself above nature.”
Milos was also the first to risk offering customers a low-key dining experience at a high price. Says Spiliadis: “I consider Milos as an example of a fine-dining restaurant that touches on the border of being casual. When we started, restaurants were focused on plates, whereas we preferred sharing platters. And we were serving simply prepared foods like grilled mushrooms and peppers. I think people were dying for that taste of grilled vegetables.”
Spiliadis is also one of the few Canadian restaurateurs to successfully enlarge his empire, and the only one to do it internationally. In 1997 came Estiatorio Milos, the New York restaurant with a posh midtown location, a breezy decor and a celebrity-filled client list (Woody Allen, Rupert Murdoch and Alain Ducasse are regulars). Despite the glamour, Spiliadis says the Montreal customers have the bigger influence. “New Yorkers are more apt to judge silently,” he says. “In Montreal the customers fight for what they think is correct. I’ve had customers come right into the kitchen to show me how to grill lamb chops. Here we stand up for what we believe in, and that creates chefs and restaurateurs with character.”
In 2003, Spiliadis completed the circle by opening a Milos in Athens, which two years after opening was named best Greek restaurant in Greece by the country’s top gastronomy magazine, called Gourmet. Situated on the lower floor of a hotel, the Athens Milos is a sweeping, high-ceilinged space with tall banquettes, an oyster bar and a communal table. Although Spiliadis has been quoted as calling the Montreal Milos “my baby,” he now claims the Athens restaurant as his favourite. “It’s because the ingredients are so close,” he says of his beloved Greek foodstuffs that he has spent the past three decades bolstering abroad. “The fruit, the vegetables, the meat and the cheeses are just unbelievable. And because of their easy accessibility, we work more seasonally there. In the winter I would never serve a Greek salad but a salad made with local wild greens that's to die for!”
Despite his obvious obsession with ingredients, the subject he seems most passionate about is hospitality. “Traditionally the relationship between chefs and customers is one of boundaries and alienation,” he says. “I believe differently. I come from a tradition where hospitality is in our blood. And I don’t just mean in restaurants. There’s a Greek notion of ‘filoxenia,’ which means ‘friends to foreigners.’ My relationship with my customers is all about me living up to this tradition of hospitality.”
He said business at both the Montreal and New York restaurants was up in 2009, a year that claimed many restaurants due to the weak economy. No doubt, hospitality played a role in customer fidelity.
“I’m always talking to my customers,” Spiliadis says. “It’s important because being in someone’s restaurant is like being in their home. When a restaurant owner doesn’t come out to talk to me, I feel as if I’m visiting someone at a time they went out to a movie and left me with the maid. And that contact is important because the customer should share their gratitude or complaints with the person who can appreciate them.
“I have learned so much through my customers’ complaints. I’d rather have a customer who complains than says nothing and never comes back. It has been the motto of my success.”
Read more: http://www.montrealgazette.com/life/food-wine/Costas+Spiliadis+Making+waves/3000098/story.html#ixzz0nNWqzvjS
MONTREAL - A list of the world’s top restaurateurs would include luminaries like Wolfgang Puck, Nobu Matsuhisa, Jean-Georges Vongerichten, Alain Ducasse, Daniel Boulud, Gordon Ramsay and Mario Batali.
It wouldn’t be a stretch to add the name Costas Spiliadis to that group. With restaurants going strong in Montreal, Manhattan and Athens, Spiliadis’s empire also includes New York’s Marketa, a gourmet shop. And it doesn’t stop there. Plans are under way to open a new Montreal restaurant, two new Milos restaurants in the U.S., and a cooking school on the island of Kythira in Greece.
The Montreal restaurant, Cava – located in the spot that held the now-defunct Le Petit Milos, at 5551 Park Ave. (near St. Viateur St.) – will open Monday (May 10). As for what to expect, Spiliadis says: “Milos is about the Greece of the islands: summer, sea, blue and white. But Greece has another important reality and that’s the inland, the mountains, where the cuisine is based more on meat, game and comfort foods cooked in a fireplace, similar to the food of Tuscany. That’s what we’ll be doing at the new restaurant. And Cava is also the name of our wine importation company run by my son George, so there will an emphasis on wine there as well. The restaurant will be small, cozy, with a lot of wood in the decor.”
Cozy would probably be the last word used to describe the two new outlets of Milos, one in the South Beach section of Miami, the other in Las Vegas.
“I was approached for many years about Las Vegas. But this offer came at a time when Vegas ceased to be just a place to gamble. There are now shows, art expositions, and great restaurants. Our project will be in the Cosmopolitan (part of the new CityCenter development), which is bringing new life to the city.”
Slated for a December opening, in a 12,000 square-foot restaurant with 200 seats and two private rooms, the Las Vegas outpost of Milos will be the most glamourous. Spiliadis says they are maintaining the classic Milos fish and seafood menu and open kitchen. The challenge, he says, with such a highly designed restaurant is to keep it warm.
The South Beach development, projected to open in October 2011, will include a restaurant and a market. “Miami is changing, too,” he says, “and it’s a great place to draw on our customers from both Montreal and New York.”
Yet the project that seems dearest to the restaurateur is his cooking school. “The island of Kythira has become a second home to me,” says Spiliadis. “I have bought several 16th century houses on a UNESCO-preserved site that are in ruins, that I’m restoring to their original state. In the summer I’ll rent them, but in the winter they will make up part of a culinary school.
“It will be a holistic approach to Greek culture, with food playing a central role. Rosemary Barron (cookbook author and teacher) will head the school and we’re collaborating with Oxford University to bring in students from all over the world. They will go fishing, cultivate the land, learn about honey making, harvest sea salt … I want young people to go back to where they came from and spread the word on Greek culture and Greek culinary culture.”
© Copyright (c) The Montreal Gazette
Read more: http://www.montrealgazette.com/life/food-wine/After+Cava+Costas+Spiliadis+looks+Vegas+Miami/3000144/story.html#ixzz0nNXbohKB
Every wine lover enjoys restaurants, and everyone who eats out has their favorites.
One great thing about living in New York city is the endless array of restaurants offering fine dining experiences. The challenge is to visit as many as you can, all while trying new restaurants as they open. It's an almost impossible task. In the casual dining category, my wife and I have a few favorites we often return to. These include two Italian restaurants, Elio's and Sette Mezzo, on the Upper East Side, and Milos, a wonderful Greek restaurant in Midtown.
When I'm looking for recommendations, I often turn to two of my editors who specialize in reviewing restaurants-executive editor Thomas Matthews and editor at large Harvey Steiman.
Most of the time, if they like a restaurant, I will too. So for this issue, I asked them to go on the record and reveal their respective favories in New York and Los Angeles [...]
p9 wine spectator
Marvin R. Shanken
Editor and Publisher
It's come a long way, baby
There are more local ingredients in the fabulous dishes at Milos these days, but the big draw is still the smorgasbord of imports from Greece and beyond
Three years ago, I sat down to lunch with Sinclair Philip, owner of Vancouver Island's famed hotel/restaurant Sooke Harbour House. Arguably Canada's original locavore, Philip has long been committed to using ingredients grown a maximum of two kilometres from his kitchen door, which means that no lemon, no chocolate and no raw milk Camembert from Normandy is seen at Sooke. When deciding to meet, he let me choose the restaurant. I selected Milos, one of the city's only top restaurants open for lunch.
Before even tasting the food, Mr. Canadian Ingredients told me he disapproved of my choice. Why, he asked, would I champion a restaurant where most everything, from the shrimp to the honey, was imported directly from Greece? Taken aback by his disdain, I came to the swift conclusion that in Philip's world, the best restaurants should be committed to serving only local ingredients. So much for culinary tourism!
Fortunately, when the food arrived he changed his tone, for there was no denying most everything was beyond reproach. We left the table happy, yet his comments lingered in my subconscious, and looking back they were a harbinger of the biggest trend on the restaurant scene right now. With the decade's tides shifting from eating exotic to eating organic to eating local, I thought it was time to give Montreal's best Greek restaurant - renowned for its imported fish and Greek foodstuffs - a fresh look.
When I last reviewed Milos five years ago, I savoured delicacies sourced by owner Costas Spiliadis like fresh shrimp and langoustines from Chalkidiki, sea-salt-baked red mullets from a small fishing village outside Thessaloniki near Mount Athos, and kakavia fish soup topped with croutons made with bread flown in from Crete. For dessert, there was halva, quince paste, and a choice of sheep's-milk cheeses served with hazelnut-stuffed figs drizzled with thyme-blossom honey from Kythira. We drank Greek bottled water (Ioli), and gorgeous Greek white wines privately imported by Spiliadis's son George, who also oversees management of the Montreal restaurant.
This was a time when Le Petit Milos, Spiliadis's specialty food shop a few doors north on Park Ave., was supplying the restaurant with a plethora of imported foodstuffs. But much has happened since then. Le Petit Milos is no longer, and four years ago, Spiliadis opened a successful third Milos in Athens. His second, Estiatorio Milos, is still taking Manhattan by storm, and there has been talk of the brand expanding farther.
Even Milos Montreal - the mother house - feels quite different. The fish arrive from Athens, Portugal, New York and Nova Scotia, but take a closer look and you'll find an increasing number of local ingredients. Yet considering Spiliadis's mission for Greek cuisine to claim its place next to the other greats of the world, it would be wrong for him to follow this local food trend too closely. Part of the fun of a night at Milos is tasting all those special ingredients. But there's no denying there's a shift going on here these days.
Try this on for size: The latest chef is ... Italian!
Franca Mazza, she of catering fame and the Mazza family that put the Little Italy landmark Il Mulino on the map, is now working her Mediterranean magic at Milos. Not that there was a lot to be improved on, but look carefully and you'll see changes - a definite feminine touch to the food - that have lightened and prettied-up cuisine that could have risked looking dated.
There's also a new tasting menu. A tasting menu at Milos? Yes, though unless you're a first-time diner here looking for a few "best of" nibbles from the à la carte selections, I wouldn't bother. One of the best things about Milos is the generous servings. Pared down, they lose their impact. Still, when I sampled the tasting plates of octopus salad, fried calamari, crab cakes, grilled mushrooms and peppers and grilled milokopi alabaster-fleshed fish on a recent visit, my only complaint was one poorly deveined shrimp. Everything else was superb. By the time we had devoured four courses and were slicing through an especially flaky baklava, we were bursting at the seams.
Many Milos detractors claim the restaurant is too pricey. Sure, fresh fish here can set you back $45 a plate, but that's what you'd pay for a rib steak in a good steakhouse, right? But I'll bet that steakhouse isn't offering a lunch deal like Milos's: three courses for a ridiculously reasonable $20.08. Last month the lunch special began with a summery salad consisting of sheep's-milk feta and watermelon cubes enhanced with olive oil, pepper and strips of mint. Following that came a meaty, rich and lush filet of Irish organic salmon, and for dessert I opted for a simple slice of almond and pear tart. Who could ask for anything more?
Yet I did return for more a few weeks later. As much as I enjoyed the minimalist tasting menu at my first visit and that perfect lunch after that, I never quite felt the jolt of excess - those heaping vegetable plates, those hulking lobsters, those fish-for-sharing platters and those elaborate dessert plates - that pushed this restaurant into four-star territory five years ago. This third dinner would have to be a feast.
I began with a bottle of Ktima Gerovassiliou 2006, a gorgeous white wine made with a mixture of asyrtiko and malagousia grapes whose fruity, crisp flavour works so brilliantly with the native cuisine. Next, the Milos special: a heaping stack of fried zucchini and eggplant slices surrounded by squares of fried saganaki cheese and filled with a tunnel of tzatziki. Grease-free and sliced whisper-thin, these simple vegetables are so utterly delicious that I think all Montreal foodies should chow down on this appetizer at least once in their lives.
I also relished the full portion of octopus salad. Unlike the traditional version of this salad, served with parsley, capers and sliced red onions, these charcoal-caramelized octopus chunks were paired with fresh fava beans. It's just that kind of slight break with tradition here that keeps dishes like these exciting.
While perusing the fish display for my main course, my waiter pointed to a gorgeous sea bream large enough for two, wedged between a St. Peter's fish and a Mediterranean sea bass, with my name on it. Glad he did! Firm-fleshed, moist, melting and flavourful, this fish was so impressive on its own that the lemon wedges served alongside were completely unnecessary.
I also wolfed down the side of vegetables - a trio consisting of new potatoes tossed in herbs, steamed "vlita" greens, and thick slices of the season's first zucchini straight from the market. It ranks as my best plate of vegetables this summer.
Instead of the usual honey-topped yogourt or fruit platter for dessert, we enjoyed a bowl of white nectarines and Quebec strawberries tossed with mint and Greek liqueur, followed by a round of fresh goat's-milk cheese. Spiliadis came by to say he had recently discovered this fluffy and tangy cheese at the Chèvrerie du Buckland stand at the Jean Talon Market, in front of Le Havre aux Glaces, where he purchases many of his sorbets. He also showed me some impressive purslane he had picked up at the Birri stand, one of his market favourites. Interesting to note that even with an international restaurant empire in the works, Spiliadis still has time to scour our markets for the best local ingredients.
With this marvellous intertwining of local and imported foodstuffs, options for both flush and budget-conscious diners, tasting plates or jumbo portions, and a touch of feminine sophistication from Mazza, Milos has scaled yet another peak.
To end: a story. While watching the waiter scoop the cheeks off our crisp-skinned bream, I looked up to my dining companion and said, "Imagine, just last week this fish was swimming in the Mediterranean."
"Last week?" my waiter said, looking up with a smile. "Try yesterday. This is Milos, after all."
Milos : destination poisson
Lorsque je demande aux amateurs de grande gastronomie quel est leur restaurant préféré à Montréal, je m'attends évidemment à ce qu'on me parle de Toqué!, cette très grande table créative et impeccablement professionnelle et raffinée.
Mais il y a un autre nom, qui revient régulièrement. Celui d'un restaurant qui propose une cuisine aussi simple que celle du Toqué! est recherchée: Milos.
Installé sur l'avenue du Parc, au coeur du quartier grec traditionnel, Milos est un autre archétype. Celui du restaurant ethnique chic dirigé par un propriétaire passionné, qui fait tout pour trouver les fournisseurs des meilleurs ingrédients possibles dans son pays d'origine afin de les cuisiner ici en toute simplicité et mettre ainsi en valeur fraîcheur et saveurs naturelles. Le tout en cultivant soigneusement une clientèle souvent riche, parfois célèbre, qui apprécie l'accueil personnalisé et cette impression d'être un invité spécial auquel on réserve ses trésors.
Si vous vous demandez quels autres restaurants correspondent à ce modèle, pensez au très italien Latini.
Chez Milos, les propriétaires sont d'origine grecque et la cuisine qu'on y sert se veut la quintessence de ce qui se fait dans ce coin de Méditerranée: poissons et fruits de mer archi-frais à peine grillés, huiles d'olive de grande finesse, légumes délicatement cuits, fruits mûrs et impeccables.
La formule a été vue ailleurs parce que c'est un concept grec classique et aussi parce que plusieurs cuisiniers ayant travaillé chez Milos volent de leurs propres ailes et proposent dans leurs restaurants une approche semblable.
Mais personne n'a encore dépassé le maître.
Doit-on s'en étonner?
Pour offrir des produits de la qualité de ceux qu'offre Milos, il faut avoir le courage d'afficher des prix en conséquence. Le pari est donc infiniment risqué.
Le soir où nous y sommes allés, on proposait en entrée un saumon fumé artisanalement et, nous a dit le serveur, importé de Grèce spécialement pour le restaurant. Servi en morceaux plutôt qu'en tranches fines, et offert avec une salade d'émincé de fenouil et de radis, la chair du poisson goûtait délicatement le bois et fondait en bouche. Parfois on croit qu'on sait tout d'un mets puis on découvre qu'il peut être autre chose. C'était le cas avec ce saumon fumé.
Nous avons aussi pris quelques huîtres, des Malpèque classiques en leur genre: dodues, remplies de saveurs de mer, d'une fraîcheur irréprochable. La maison offre un peu de vinaigre à l'échalote pour accompagner les mollusques et ajouter une dimension légèrement acide à l'expérience. À utiliser avec parcimonie pour ne pas perdre le moment maritime qu'offrent les huîtres, surtout si on est à Montréal en plein hiver!
Aussi en entrée, les courgettes et les aubergines frites étaient d'une belle finesse légèrement craquante. On les trempe dans un tzatziki fait de yaourt à la grecque, donc ultra épais et solidement relevé à l'ail. Là encore, le Milos nous impressionne en sachant doser et en évitant tout excès.
En plat principal, nous avons opté pour un petit vivaneau blanc de Méditerranée, que le restaurant appelle fagri, et des calmars géants.
Grillé au four, avec un peu de citron, d'huile d'olive et quelques câpres, le poisson était savoureux et encore moelleux, comme peuvent l'être ces bêtes très maigres si elles sont cuites assez peu pour rester séduisantes.
En revanche, le calmar, un mollusque qui peut être fade et coriace s'il n'est pas frit ou braisé avec des herbes ou des épices, manquait un peu de finesse et aurait profité d'être apprêté de façon plus recherchée que simplement grillé.
Au dessert, le baklava était impeccable et alliait donc dans un parfait équilibre décadent une vaste quantité de sirop, de noix et de pâte filo légèrement craquante sous la dent.
Milos
5357, avenue du Parc
Montréal
514 272-3522
Prix : C'est cher, c'est clair. Repas pour deux : 353 $, incluant une bouteille de vin, taxe et service. Le poisson à lui seul coûtait 74 $. En revanche, le menu du midi à 20 $ est une belle aubaine.
Carte de vin : Plusieurs belles importations privées de vins grecs.
Service : Professionnel, averti.
Genre: Restaurant grec très haut de gamme.
Décor: On ne va pas chez Milos pour le décor, un peu chargé sans être recherché, qui a de la difficulté à marier élégamment son désir d'évoquer la Grèce traditionnelle et celui d'être urbain et moderne. Magnifique comptoir ouvert pour les poissons où les bêtes sont déposées sur des glaçons et vaporisées régulièrement d'eau bien fraîche.
Faune: Gens d'affaires, gens riches, parfois gens célèbres. Leurs Hummer et autres VUS géants sont garés par des voituriers, comme tous les autres véhicules conduits par les joueurs de hockey et autres financiers qui fréquentent les lieux.
Le détail qui plaît: À l'arrivée des convives, on coupe de l'origan frais, à table, dans une assiette d'huile d'olive fine et fraîche.
Le détail qui agace : Malgré de magnifiques jarres de sels fins à l'entrée du restaurant, on ne nous en a pas offert à table.
+ Un restaurant grec impeccable, une des meilleures destinations à Montréal pour manger du poisson.
- Il faut payer le prix, qui n'est pas à la portée de beaucoup de gens, à moins d'y aller le midi.
2006/07 Montreal Restaurants Top Food - Best Seafood
Be transported from Mile End to a "Greek island taverna" by the "absoultely undisputed best seafood" as "fresh, fresh, fresh" "as if caught hours ago"-that's "perfectly served" amid the "boisterous atmospherics" of this "rustic chic" "landmark of the rich and famous" ; those objecting to the "outrageous prices" (you "pay by the pound")will find "the fabulous $20 lunch special" "a steal".
Milos has never looked better
Owner Costas Spiliadis, who already has the best Greek restaurant in town, is on a constant quest for fresh ingredients and he knows how to prepare them to perfection.
Costas Spiliadis stands like a proud papa next to Milos's kitchen display, where customers gather to admire the clearest-eyed, reddest-gilled and firmest-textured fish in the city. He's especially excited about his latest acquisitions: fresh shrimp and langoustines from a new source in Chalkidiki, Greece.
"Look at this shrimp," he says, lifting up a prehistoric-looking prawn, complete with bulging eyes, tiny legs and spindly antennae. "It's so fresh you can eat it raw," he says, cracking the shell and taking a bite.
He offers us a taste, smiling reassuringly. The pearly white flesh is beguiling. I hesitate for a moment, then munch down on the monster. The flavour is slightly sweet, and the texture is soft yet resilient.
He passes it around for the others to taste and everyone, caught up in the moment, obliges. Propped up in the ice above the shrimp is a baby shark. If he had asked me to take a bite out of that, I'd probably have gone along as well.
Milos is the best Greek restaurant in town. No one even comes close. Yet this restaurant continues to evolve by leaps and bounds. With beautiful new crockery, pristine white tablecloths and improved lighting, Milos has never looked better.
Spiliadis is a man on a mission. His goal is to elevate Greek cuisine to top billing on the international scene. He's constantly on the move between Montreal, New York (the location of his other restaurant) and Greece, seeking out new and better suppliers.
His shrimp, for instance, come to him via a friend in Greece, Thanassis, who picks up 11 kilos in Neoi Epivates, a small fishing village outside Thessaloniki, near Mount Athos. From the same village, Thanassis picks up small monkfish tails (known as ouritses), as well as 3.5 kilos of red mullets (barbouni), considered a delicacy by the local monks.
The key to success with such prized foodstuffs is to do as little as possible to alter their flavour or appearance. Perfection, in this case, comes down to simplicity. Those gorgeous shrimp are flash fried and presented on a plate with a pair of peach-coloured langoustines. So fresh are the shrimp that you can eat them with the shell. Their meatiness plays well off the langoustine's more delicate - almost fluffy - tail meat. This might sound clichéd, but you really haven't experienced shrimp or langoustines until you've tasted these babies.
Another treat is the lightly breaded and fried monkfish tail. It comes sliced into medallions like an osso bucco, with the tail bone in the centre. The flesh is more delicate and sweet than one would expect from monkfish.
A dorado grilled for two is everything you would want in a piece of fish. The moist flesh breaks into sections and simply melts in the mouth.
Best typifying Milos's penchant for purity is a plate of red mullet. A hand-sized crimson fish arrives solo on a large white plate. The skin is blistered and bubbly, and the meat is just a tad flaky. With fish this perfect, adding even a drop of olive oil would be tantamount to putting wall-to-wall carpeting in the Parthenon.
Superb Greek olive oil (from Domaine Agrilia, available at Spiliadis's specialty food shop, Le Petit Milos down the street) is used to great effect in side dishes, especially the lightly sautéed dandelion greens known as khorta.
Those who think Greek vegetable dishes consist only of fried zucchini and grilled peppers should try Milos's Beets Skordalia. These baked yellow and red-striped organic beets are served with roasted garlic, more of that fabulous olive oil, sautéed Swiss chard, and almond and garlic purée (skordalia). With the sautéed greens, Spiliadis recommends a slice of imported goat's-milk feta. Firm and salty, with the tang of goat's milk, this potent feta holds its own next to the powerful greens.
What I love most about Milos is that you can eat Greek from beginning to end. A recent dinner started with a bowl of kakavia fish soup, similar to the classic French soupe de poisson, yet more subtle. Floating on the top was a crouton made with bread flown in from Crete the day before.
Between sips of soup we drank Greek bottled water, Ioli, and a light and fruity Greek white wine, Asprolithi. Another favourite from the selection of Greek wines is the Harlaftis chardonnay.
It's at the end of the meal that Milos pulls away from the pack by offering customers rare Greek delicacies. Chief among them is botargo, an orange-coloured roe of mullet, which is pressed, smoked and encased in beeswax. With a flavour I'd describe as caramelized salt-fish, this delicacy may be an acquired taste for some.
For dessert, there are several varieties of halva, quince paste, and a choice of sheep's milk cheeses served with hazelnut-stuffed figs. My favourite dessert remains the thick and rich goat's milk yogurt speared with two sesame snaps, and drizzled with thyme-blossom honey from Kythira.
Some might say Milos is the closest you can come to authentic Greek cuisine outside of Greece. Others claim that the combination of chic setting, superb ingredients, simple cooking methods and smooth service is better than anything they've experienced in Greece. That may be so, but watch out. Spiliadis is planning to open his third Milos this summer - in Athens.
LE DEVOIR Vendredi 31 mars, 2000La Vénus de Milos, Jean-Philille Tastet
Mardi, 21h30. Comme tous les soirs à la même heure. Mikis Theotokopoulos et son fils Dhomenikos quittent to port d'Agia Pelagia sur l'île de Cythère pour aller pêcher. Six autres bateaux de pêche les accompagnent. Pas de gros navires-usines, de petits bateaux gros comme des bouchons. A minuit, les sept embarcations jettent leurs lignes avec juste assez d'hameçons pour ramener chacun une vingtaine de kilos de poissons et les hommes attendent. Quelques heures plus tard, ils remontent leurs lignes et décrochent un à un les poissons endormis par la houle méditerranéenne. Le mercredi matin à 6h, les pêcheurs rapportent au port leurs belles prises installéees dans des contenants individuels. A 10h30, un petit avion décolle pour Athènes. A midi et demi, un plus gros s'envole vers Montréal. Avec le décalage horaire, les poissons arrivent à Montréal dans l'après-midi. Le soir-même, vous invitez vos parents chéris chez Milos pour leur souper d'anniversaire de mariage.
Et c'est ici que le miracle s'accomplit, le même miracle que lorsque l'on pêche soi-même une belle truite saumonée dans un lac pur du nord et qu'on la fait griller à peine quelques heures plus tard au-dessus d'un lit de braise. Ce poisson est chaque fois une révélation, une ode à la générosité de la nature. Il y a une vingtaine d'années, Costas Spiliadis ouvrait, avenue du Parc, une boîte à chansons qu'il baptisa Filoxenia et qui se tailla un vif succes. Comme il voulait rehausser l'image de son pays natal auprès des Québécois et qu'il aimait autant la cuisine que la musique, il greffa au-dessus de son cabaret un petit restaurant qu'il appela Milos (moulin à vent, en grec). Vingt ans plus tard, Filoxenia a disparu mais le moulin tourne a plein régime et est devenu l'un des restaurants les plus renommés au Canada. A juste titre.
Il existe très peu de restaurants, ici comme dans les grandes villes du monde entier éloignées de la mer, où l'on peut déguster des poissons aussi frais que ceux servis chez Milos. Ce dernier est sans aucun doute l'un des restaurants les plus chers de Montréal, mais quelquefois la beauté n'a pas de prix et l'on est disposé à dépenser plus que de raison si ce que l'on reçoit en retour est exceptionnel. On peut sans hésitation qualifier d'exceptionnel à peu près tout ce que M. Spiliadis offre dans son restaurant, cuisine, aliments, cadre et service. On aurait tort de se laisser rebuter par les files de Benz, Porsche et autre luxueux équipages que les portiers redirigent vers le stationnement; dans ce cas-si, elles annoncent que si l'on s'apprête à casser sa tirelire, on le fera pour quelque chose qui en vaut la peine. Et puis, n'oubliez pas que l'extraordinaire Vénus de Milos (IIe siècle avant Jésus-Christ) est représentée à moitié nue; ça donne une bonne indication de l'état dans lequel on risque de se retrouver une fois l'addition payée.
Chez Milos, le cadre est soigné, blanc et bleu dominant; un immense moulin à vent occupe le centre de l'établissement sur deux étages, quelques bouzoukis sont accrochés aux murs et d'autres enveloppent de leurs airs chauds les conversations qui meublent l'espace. Il règne une ambiance de fête. Vous interdisez à votre vieux père, comptable à la retraite, de regarder la colonne de droite, celle où sont affichés des prix dépassant son salaire mensuel en début de carrière. Vous pilotez votre maman vers les calmars et le Milos spécial, choisissez une bonne bouteille de vin grec pas trop prohibitive et appréciez l'atmosphère. On sent ici un souci de tout mettre en oeuvre pour que le client se sente bien, et de nombreux petits détails — comme ce petit bouquet de marjolaine posé sur la table et que le garçon viendra tailler dans une assiette creuse où il aura versé un peu d'huile d'olive – prouvent que l'on y parvient.
Les calmars de chez Milos permettent de redécouvrir combien ce mollusque peut être délicieux si préparé avec soin; les morceaux sont beaux, tendres et parfumés, servis panés et légèrement poêlés. Dans une grande assiette que l'on peut partager avec ses convives tant elle est généreuse, le Milos spécial propose de fines tranches de courgettes et d'aubergines frites, enrichies d'une chapelure aérienne. Une louchée de tzatziki maison qui prouve, entre autres, que l'on peut ailler subtilement et quelques morceaux de saganaki, préparation à base de kéfalograviera, fromage de lait de brebis frit.
Les poissons arrivent, impeccables dans leur dénuement voulu. Daurade royale, loup de mer, pageot. Présentés sur le flanc, arêtes retirées, ils sont tous d'une extraordinaire fraîcheur et justifient à eux seuls le déplacement sur l'avenue du Parc. On s'était un peu inquiété de se faire dire par le garçon qu'ils seraient servis sans les habituels accompagnements, légumes, riz ou autres. Dès la première bouchée, on est soulagé que ce soit le cas: toute fioriture eût été de trop et aurait sûrement nui à cette délectation. Une assiette de légumes partagée à quatre satisfait amplement les plus gourmands.
Comme dessert, vous aurez pris une asiette de ces fruits splendides aperçus en entrant — fraise, raisin, papaye, mangue et ananas —, l'incontournable baklava dans sa version locale, un galaktoboureko, gâteau de pâte feuilletée farcie de crème renversée, légèrement parfumé à l'eau de rose et au miel. Sur les conseils d'amis passés avant vous dans ces murs, vous aurez essayé ce yogourt au miel don’t ils vous ont dit le plus grand bien. Un fermier crétois, installé aux confins du Québec et de l'Ontario, prépare ce yogourt à partir du lait de ses chèvres. Blanc immaculé – le yogourt, pas le berger –, il est d'une texture veloutée et d'un goût quasi divin. Et ce miel, onctueux et riche de mille parfums, transporte instantanément sur les rives de Cythère. La bouteille de Santorini 1998, petit vin fruité aux saveurs de citron de chèvrefeuille sorti des caves de chez Antoniou, et les trois litres de Naya auront contribué à vous permettre de traverser ce souper avec toute l'allégresse voulue… et à rester lucide au moment de l'arrivée de la bien-nommée douloureuse.
En se levant de table, on se dit que ce monsieur Spiliadis a bien fait de lâcher la sociologie pour se lancer dans la retauration; avec son Milos, il fait en effet infiniment plus pour le rayonnement de la Grèce que tous les consulats et ambassades réunis.
THE MONTREAL GAZETTEWednesday, December 4, 1991
Costas is an island of divine Greek madness, by Bee MacGuire
In ancient Greece, you know, craziness was politically correct. It was considered a sacred condition. The worshippers of the god Dionysius, for example, went beautifully bonkers as a matter of course and nobody dialed 911.
Other times, other mores. It was too good to last. Eventually, divine madness was suppressed and the Greek who was given to sacred fits was taken away to the funny farm. Still. They didn't get all of them, I'm happy to tell you. There is Costas Spiliadis to consider.
When I met him, his restaurant, Milos, was as yet undiscovered. He was young and driven, obsessive about quality and certifiably crazed on the subject of fresh produce.In the early days he drove to New York twice a week, his pockets stuffed with U.S. dollars, in search of the most beautiful fish in the world. Then he would drive back to his kitchen - an 18-hour marathon - and wait for the clients to come. They didn't. So he gave his 18-karat fish to the alley cats. Put them in the freezer? You jest.
Spiliadis's restaurant eventually got discovered - and how! - but he didn't become less maniacal. He went searching with even more fiendish enthusiasm for ineffable seafood. He found giant deep-sea lobsters in the Maritimes that had never been served in Canadian restaurants; he imported Quebec's first live langoustines. He arranged for his sister in Greece to press olive oil from the family grove at exactly 40 degrees Celsius.
Now a lifetime spent searching for the impossible fish is a lonely existence. Nobody else seemed to be doing it. Spiliadis believed he was the last of the Greek lunatics until he flew to his homeland six weeks ago to attend the first International Symposium on the Foods and Wines of Greece, where he made a Diogenian discovery. There are more of them. The experience was a recklessly caloric catharsis. He ate and he drank and he cried.
"The Greek image is so tarnished in North America. I had begun to lose faith in our excellence myself. And then I met these inspiring people…"
A philosopher-winemaker named Costas Carras, for instance, who is magnificently obsessed with the wine-making process - has been working with the monks of a venerable monastery on ancient biological grape-growing processes.
"His wine, a white Melisanthi, was nectar," Costas said. "World class. The most elegant wine I've ever tasted."He met, as well, Dimitris Portolos, who is obsessed with olives. "His olive oil," Costas marvelled, "is a work of art, the most meticulously produced in all Greece." Then there was Elena Averov, who is devoting a lifetime to the Greek village of Metsovo, where the old ways are sacred, and where Metsovo, Manouri and Kefalograviera cheeses are produced with infinite care. World class.Spiliadis tasted the honey of the white mountains, imbued with wild thyme and Greek sunshine.
He was surrounded by people who cared as much as he does.
"Everybody cried," he said. "Even the journalists from Gourmet and the New York Times. And we promised to spread the word that the Greek ideal is alive." The wine will be arriving at Milos in future months. And the cheese. And the honey. And the olive oil. And a small bunch of mamas from an obscure Greek village, which makes positively peerless leek pies.