The Apollo

When Socrates observed that bad men live to eat and drink, he clearly had The Apollo in mind. Sink your teeth into their melty, gooey saganaki, suck juicy chicken off nicely charred bones or spoon your way through soft, syrup-drenched loukoumades with pomegranate yoghurt and see if you don't metamorphose from polite diner to gluttonous beast in seconds flat. This is the restaurant that has brought Mod-Greek dining pleasure to Sydney. The lofty space (polished concrete floors, distressed-ish walls, high arched windows) has a lively vibe, as much to do with the cheery waitstaff and ever-helpful sommelier as with the hubbub of happy hedonists - especially those ranged around the expansive marble bar. Rustic, shareable food arrives in generous serves (come hungry!) and sings with all the lovely lemony, garlicky, olivey, fetta-ery, herbal flavours Greeks do so well. Uber-creamy taramasalata, properly made using grey mullet roe, and anything cooked over wood on the new-fangled custom-made grill are especially delish.