Taverna Akrogiali, Corfu

Lord knows where the custom came from when Spiro's granddad opened this place in 1948. It must have been a boon when the two big hotels were built across the road. Without them it's the middle of nowhere. No great surprise that when looking at Google maps I spy a nearby property called Brigadoon.

Anyway, on our first night in Corfu after a 4 a.m. start we didn't fancy venturing far. The place looked clean, so across the road we toddled with no high expectations. If I tell you that we ate here for five of the seven nights of our holiday, you'll gather we liked it. Other than experimenting with a few Greek dishes in my own kitchen, I have to say it's a cuisine of which I know little. But I do know good food when I eat it - that's what kept bringing us back.

It's a rather lovely setting on the beach with shade and any sea breeze which is going. Much needed when the mercury hits 38. I think the original restaurant was on the opposite side of the road. The kitchen is still there adding an extra obstacle for the very lovely staff. Four in total apart from boss man Spiro. All family, I think. It's easy to like a place where you are greeted with warm smiles, and shown to what fast becomes your personal table even if you haven't booked.

The menu is extensive - 46 dishes plus desserts - and there's usually a display of freshly caught fish, landed by a family friend. There are dangers in offering such a large selection, but everything seemed to be freshly cooked to order. Any wait was well filled with carafes of the (surprisingly good) local wines at 7€ for half a litre.

We worked our way through most of the specials, having learned that portion sizes are huge. L was discomfited by the size of a local salad which featured dried figs, walnuts and a glorious kumquat dressing. The latter, it should be said, are everywhere to be found on the island. I displayed (yet again) my honourable side by helping her out. The moussaka to follow was nearly the death of her. It had a couple of twists. It was made using veal, not lamb, and had a layer of tomato. There was probably more potato than aubergine and, interestingly, it was quite heavily spiced with cinnamon. Very different to the one I make - I suspect the recipe came from Spiro's granny.

Souvlaki simply means meat cooked on a skewer. The choices here were pork or chicken. Both fraught with sundry dangers as it's so easy to dry the meat out. Here the pork cooking was exemplary. I'm not sure what the marinade was, but the flavour and the succulence will remain in the memory for a while. By way of contrast, L had the same dish in what was reputed to be the top place in the region. There the memory is of the toughness and the gristle.

I could rhapsodise about many things we ate. Bianco, cod with lemon, garlic and oil; tsigarelli, a dish of mixed greens, tomato, garlic and paprika; sofrito - beef with wine and herbs; pastitsada - chicken, tomatoes, garlic, cinnamon and cloves. The list goes on, and I hope you're getting the picture. Not a duff dish to be had, and smiles all round.

It has to be said that when it comes to the bill you don't have the advantage of the English translation which is available on the menu. Keep your eyes on what you've eaten. On the penultimate day Spiro made a teeny tiny error, trying to charge us 78 euros instead of 55. An easy mistake, no doubt. Lesley gave him one of her looks. He got it right the following night.

There is more to this place, so much more. The easy charm; the laid back approach which belies the real professionalism in the kitchen; the sheer beauty of dining within a few metres of gently lapping waters. I do appreciate that not many of you will find yourselves anywhere near here, but such food in such a setting screams out to be put in writing. I also learned how to make their wonderful tzatziki, but that's for another column.