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> oPa!
Author: aLmich
Opa! These words were repeatedly said on KC and Richard’s movie “For The First Time”. I was with Jay [birthday celebrator], Kiko, and Jc then. I kept on thinking where I heard the word. It was only after all the closing credits were gone that Cyma entered my thoughts.
I had the 1st chance to experience the restaurant the last time we went to Bora. So for those who’re frequent to Boracay, Cyma Restaurant may already be familiar to you. It is a restaurant that specializes in Greek and Mediterranean dishes. I wasn’t actually the one who ordered for my food before so it still felt like my first time to dine here, so I was a bit wary when Z invited me to have dinner there, though excited at the same time to try new food.
The place was filled with diners and the atmosphere was bustling with chatter. We had to squeeze between groups of people. The air was contagious and soon my spirits lifted with the excitement akin to festival fever. Z has always been all-knowing on these spots so I made him do all the tasks.
I let him order as I was not about to pretend to be an expert on Greek cuisine. I just read the description of the items he was ordering just to make sure that there wasn’t something there that I did not like.
Saganaki - is – visually and audibly – the flagship dish of Cyma. It is a Greek cheese-based dish that is either fried or grilled. At Cyma it is served at your table with great grandeur by igniting it as all the servers shout “Opa!”. I was literally amazed. It wasn’t my first time there but it surely beats the usual “Happy Birthday” that is usually done in other places. The Saganaki was served with grilled bread that was a perfect partner with the fried greasy cheese appetizer.
Another appetizer, the Dakos or Greek bruschetta, is a watercolor painting of sorts with the errant splotch of wild color. Little towers of bread hold aloft crowns of crushed olives and feta cheese while sitting in a pool of crushed tomatoes, capers, parsley, and olive oil. It’s a meze that has echoes of the Mediterranean.
Large in scale is the Pastitsio, a monstrous baked macaroni, although that term doesn’t do it justice. The Greek form of the Italian word, pasticcio, which means, among other things, hodgepodge, pastitsio is a tri-layer baked pasta dish. A bottom layer of tubular pasta bound with cheese and egg, it’s “piggy-backed” by a layer of ground meat mixed with tomato and cinnamon, and what I distinctly make out as nutmeg. Another layer of pasta, and then it’s topped with béchamel.
The Tonnos Salata is in itself, a salad buffet: mixed greens, feta, baked onions, roasted peppers, olives, marinated potatoes, green beans, and boiled eggs, it boasts of seared Ahi tuna and Gavros, homemade anchovies. Bathed in a summer herb vinaigrette, my family enjoys picking out their desired ingredients to make their own salad, instead of just scooping out large chunk-fulls and dumping it helter-skelter onto a plate. “We ordered the to-share portion for four people last time, and we were so bitin. So good is this salad that even this gigantic family portion is not enough for our party of 12.
My nephew is attracted to the Greek Burger made from Wagu [could this be a menu misspelling?] Brahman beef patties. It comes with peppered feta cheese and tzatziki sauce, a Greek yogurt condiment made from cucumbers and mint leaves. Ordered medium well, I find it tough since I usually like my meat medium rare. Despite the disparity in desired cooking times, the burger smacks of bovine glory with delightful spurts of salt from the feta. I’ll come back for this.
Cyma has an open kitchen and while the main ding room is packed and frenzied, and on a weekend at that, the kitchen maintains its own rhythm. Service is satisfactory, and our waiter, Cayo, is handling the onslaught of orders very well. I can’t complain. The noise level on the other hand, has my nerves on edge but hey, elegant tearoom this is not.
As much as I wanted to eat all of it, it’s just almost impossible because I’ve eaten so much already. And I felt guilty having to leave the plate half-eaten [as I’m used to eating everything placed on my plate] but it’s just physically impossible to stuff all of it in my stomach and expect that I could still in the next 20+ restaurants.
