Topa: Where Crete and the Basque Country Come Together

Topa means “cheers” in Basque, but also playfully nods to the Greek “I told you so”. It’s a name that captures the immediacy of good company and the sense that everything which happens around a table becomes a place where people reconnect with who they are through sharing. This is exactly the philosophy the team behind Oinoscent has brought to Kypseli with their new venture – a high-end kafenio that fuses the Cretan tradition of meze with the Spanish spirit of tapas, giving centre stage to wine and vermouth under the expert curatorship of Aris Sklavenitis.

Kypseli, with its mosaic of neighbourhoods, cultures and rhythms, is the natural backdrop for a kafenio that aims to be open, vibrant and an everyday hangout while maintaining a refined aesthetic. Topa even spills out onto the pedestrian street with plenty of outdoor tables that fill up in no time. When I visited they weren’t taking reservations – you simply turn up, look for a light on, and if a table is free you’re warmly welcomed and looked after.

In the kitchen is Giannis Tsikoudakis — born and raised in Chania and a devoted foodie who travels frequently to broaden his horizons and sample new ideas. He’s deeply in love with the cuisine of his native Crete and equally with the remarkable flavours of the Basque Country. I tip my hat to his thinking at Topa. He doesn’t try to force a Cretan-Basque marriage across the entire menu, inventing another hazardous fusion. Instead he works with restraint and precision, marrying elements where it makes sense and, more often, allowing dishes to sit beside one another — like two rooms joined by an open door: different, yet intimately connected. That decision is both simple and fundamental. The chef knows that, more often than not, the value of a flavour lies in letting it speak clearly rather than smothering it into one indistinct note.

Cretan cuisine and the culinary tradition of the Basque Country might seem to come from different worlds, but in reality they share many common codes. Both are rooted in their terroir, built around humble ingredients that are elevated through care and technique, and both favour tables laid out to accommodate groups, encourage sharing, and preserve a spontaneous, honest flavour.

I knew Tsikoudakis was a good cook, but I didn’t expect to taste that run of dishes at Topa. He always did solid work at Oinoscent, yet here it genuinely feels like a different chef. Perhaps his passion for these cuisines — and the fact that he’s a co-owner — spurs him on; he clearly takes it personally. That night he served many dishes, and I really had to think hard to find technical faults or weaknesses — a rarity in a restaurant of this kind. 

The menu unfolds like a game of contrasts. On one side, the local Cretan patois: lamb meatballs that are airy and aromatic, balancing a delicate texture with rich flavour. Snails with zucchini and amaranth capture that pure, clean taste that emerges only when ingredients are treated with respect and restraint, while the vinegar-cured sausage arrives juicy and well-roasted, its acidity perfectly balancing the smokiness and fat. The slow-cooked tsigariasto lamb, tender yet deep in flavour, convincingly demonstrates that the essence of Cretan cuisine lies in simplicity and careful execution.

On the other side, the Basque Country: the Bilbao-style tortilla, with its velvety texture and earthy potato flavour, exemplifies the kind of simplicity that makes classic dishes irresistible — and it has already become a major hit at Topa. The daily croquettes, which vary each time, are perhaps the best I’ve ever tasted in Athens, born from leftovers and transformed into golden bites bursting with unexpected, satisfying flavour. A similar kind of magic exists in the mojama, Spain’s jamón of the sea: tuna slices salted and air-dried until they acquire a silky texture and an almost cured-meat intensity, served with olive oil and crisp almonds. The pluma of Iberian black pork, cooked medium-rare with piquillo peppers, reaches the table juicy and tender, the peppers’ sweetness perfectly balancing the meat’s intensity, a clear demonstration of the power and personality of Basque cuisine.

And even when Tsikoudakis chooses to merge the two traditions on a single plate, the result is revelatory. The “anchovies squared” is a perfect example: on one side, the Greek marinated anchovy, with crisp flesh and beautiful acidity; on the other, the buttery Spanish anchovy, deep and mature in flavour. Two seafoods perform a choreography where the Mediterranean becomes common ground. The bite is perfectly completed with a piece of toasted bread, as served in the appetizers section — sheer bliss. That same fusion logic governs their cheesecake: Basque in its structure, yet made with Cretan cheeses that give it an unusual savoury depth. It’s where Spanish DNA and Cretan terroir find shared soil — a sweet balance that manages to feel both familiar and pleasantly unexpected.

Topa is one of the most carefully executed and intriguing openings of the past two years — a restaurant with personality that isn’t afraid to show its influences. Its philosophy is anchored in two cuisines with strong identities, allowing them to coexist without flattening either, and through this deliberate choice, it manages to create something entirely new in a nostalgic neighbourhood with history. For centuries, this area was considered the Kolonaki of Athens, and I’m confident it will regain its former vibrancy soon. Honestly, I can’t wait to return — not least to see whether the high standard reflected in this review holds true in the future.