Milos wins with simple formula of Greek fish and tomatoes

NEW RESTAURANT

estiatorio Milos B1-48 The Shoppes at Marina Bay Sands 2 Bayfront Avenue Singapore 018972 Tel: 6688 9977 Open daily for lunch and dinner: 11:30 am to 2:30 pm; 5 pm to 11 pm

AND now for the latest news from Greek Mythological Weekly: Marina Bay Sands, aka the god of money on this side of the Asia-Pacific, sends word to Milos – wannabe demigod of seafood, aka Perseus’s distant cousin from Canada.

MBS says: “Go forth, oh Oracle of Mediterranean treasures, and bring to us a loyal following of devotees drawn to the bounty of your shores, beguiled by romantic visions of sea bass air-flown from the Aegean Sea, not hauled in by trawler to Jurong Fish Port.

“In exchange, we shall build you a temple of Pantheonic proportions, filled with all the Pentelikon marble you want, a tower of tomatoes to worship at, liquid gold in the form of Kythira island olive oil, and where only words like tzatziki, horta and milokopi shall pass your lips – not gyros, souvlaki or Zeus forbid, moussaka.”

Okay, so we’ve established that estiatorio Milos is no neighbourhood Greek taverna but a topline operation where “go big or go eat cherry tomatoes” is its mantra. Cue thick marble pillars, mega ceiling fixtures, oversized clay urns and a brigade of servers and their managers well-schooled in Vegas-style, over-the-top hospitality.

And judging by the full-house on a Monday night to the latest big name in town, we’re not the only ones swayed by the sight of market fresh vegetables and fresh fish on ice.

“We fly them in every day,” says a sudden, gravelly voice in our ear that makes us jump as we’re scanning the seafood sceptically. We didn’t know at the time, but it belongs to Milos’ VP of operations Mario Zeniou, a New Yorker who was in town for two months to oversee the opening. He can’t be lying. The likes of lavraki, fagri, rofos and lithrini are all gleaming and bright-eyed, with no signs of jet lag. At prices starting from S$165 per kg, they sure didn’t fly economy.

He promises that our best bet would be an 800-gram lavraki or Mediterranean sea bass (S$165 per kg), baked in sea salt – the house specialty. Seeing how he resembles a New Jersey mafioso  who’s equally at home stabbing salt crusts or ordering cement shoes in your size if you don’t like his fish, we agree. 

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But while we wait, there are plenty of other distractions. Bring your wallet because there’s nothing under S$38 unless you count S$19 fava beans. Although the S$68 set lunch sounds good.

First off are French La Lun oysters (S$48 for six), to replace the cheaper Irish ones that we originally wanted. They’re fresh, with a lingering clean brininess. A nice touch is lime in addition to a lemon wedge for squeezing over the molluscs, besides the standard mignonette. 

As mentioned, they don’t do things in small measures so the Milos Special (S$45) is a vegetable skyscraper of wafer thin slices of zucchini and eggplant, quickly deep fried and stacked over a base of tangy tzatziki – yoghurt and cucumber bits, and pan-fried wedges of semi-soft saganaki cheese. Pressed down into a manageable height and disassembled by the server for easier eating, this is Greek chip-and-dip. It’s addictive, thanks to the light batter and the freshness of the yoghurt. 

Then there are the much-touted tomatoes, which get their own pedestal away from the commoner vegetables. They come straight from Crete and are turned into a Greek salad (S$38) with cucumbers, olives and feta cheese. They’re not as sweet as Japanese fruit tomatoes but they have a solid meatiness, no underlying acidity, and juices that are worth slurping up from the bottom of the dish. It’s just a salad, but a very good one. 

Milos’s crab cakes (S$45) are supposed to be the best in New York, but we beg to differ. The loosely packed, 95 per cent Chesapeake Bay crab meat is just short of pristine fresh and quite cloying with its bed of creamy white beans and thick streaks of aioli.

 Anyway, we’re just killing time before the main event, presided over by Mr Z himself who slices through the thick salt crust to reveal the steaming whole lavraki. He is the consummate host (unfortunately he’s gone home but will be back) and you can tell who the staff take their cue from. Deftly filleting and plating, he presents the fish with utmost simplicity – just olive oil and flakes of Greek sea salt. A side of hortas (S$22) – bright crisp-tender greens that have a lovely crunchy seaweed-like texture – has us almost converted to the Greek diet. The sea bass itself is very fresh but just slightly overdone. Still, mixed with fruity olive oil, salt and greens, it takes on a whole new dimension. 

Dessert isn’t an afterthought either. Top marks go to the creamy-tangy yoghurt ice cream (S$28) with crunchy candied walnuts and drizzles of thyme honey, while the candied fruit and nut mix in the baklava (S$25) tastes like Christmas under flaky pastry.

 Yes, it’ll cost a pretty penny to hop on this Greek odyssey, but you still get more for your money than at Ministry of Crab. If Milos can keep up the pace and quality during Mr Z’s absence, then he’s one oracle worth listening to.

Rating: 7