Big Beautiful World 90 – Flint Restaurant, Athens, Greece

Our last night in Athens, we went to a restaurant called Flint. This restaurant is located in the Psirri district—or Psyri, or Psyrri, or Ψυρρή, depending on who’s writing—which is right in the heart of Athens.

FULL DISCLOSURE: I have absolutely no connection to this restaurant except for the great memories.

Flint first came to our attention a few days earlier. We were walking back to our hotel and went past Flint. It’s got maximalist decor, with loads of quirky signs and twee twinkle lights everywhere and a wall full of umbrellas decorating their streetside dining. Right at the front, by where the host stands, is a rusty old bike. I joked with George that maybe he could borrow it, since he rides a bike regularly at home and hadn’t done any riding in Greece. He murmured back an amused “Maybe” and, before we knew it, the host or owner or manager or whoever he was waiting to seat people had wheeled the bike over and told George to take a seat.

We had plans that night and were leaving the next day for Crete, but this funny and charming moment stayed with us. When we came back to Athens, we went to Flint for dinner.

What a good idea.

First: We sat at one of the tables right on the street, which you’d think would be annoying AF with all the noise and the people but frankly, after being corralled indoors for two years during COVID, it was actually pretty thrilling. It was loud and boisterous and alive. We even got to watch the manager—the same one who handed George a bicycle—talk a man on the street through a crisis, so the place looks great AND they exercise compassion. Win/win.

But the food.

I think we ordered one of everything, because we had a boatload of food on our table. God, it was good. Whenever I look at this picture I start all over again—man, that was good hummus. But the pizza! And the Greek salad… And so on, and so on. It’s the kind of cooking I aspire to, and can occasionally come close to but not quite like this. Our server was sweet; she was a student from, if I remember correctly, The Czech Republic, though she might have been from Croatia or Slovakia. She said she didn’t speak a word of Greek but her English was spot-on; I am still unpacking what that means empirically.

I went inside to wash up after dinner and the restrooms were upstairs, so I went to the second floor (or the first floor in you’re European) and stopped to stare in googly-eyed admiration.

I mean, come on. It’s like fairyland.

The next time you’re in Athens, go to Flint, and say hello to the very nice man in the front.