Lola Mediterranean Woodfire

To visitors traveling to Manchester, Vermont, the elegantly imposing structure on the roundabout near Shaw’s and Stewart’s, suggests permanence, as if it has always been part of the town.  

 

Locals, however, know of its recent history--Sam’s Pizza relocating nearer to Shaw’s, the area flattened, the building rising up, a sign proclaiming Lola popping up in early fall, then the restaurant opening on October 22.  

 

Since then, driving by in the evening, I’ve been drawn to Lola’s golden glow and the silhouetted diners inside.  I’ve heard and read a steady stream of praise.

 

So--I was anticipating a quietly spectacular dinner when my friend Rob and I entered the other night.

 

And yes, it was quietly spectacular.

 

Owners Carmen Alexiou and Kostas Foifas--married in business and life-- and chef Austin Poulin know the community and know food.  Carmen’s parents started Christos across town, and she taught at the local elementary school for 15 years.  Kostas came from Greece when he was 27 and managed Christos for years.  Even though Christos is known for  pizza, Kostas said,  “If you want to be serious about pizza, there is a lot to learn.”  So off he went to Chicago, to train at the Pizza Culinary Academy, accredited by Scuola Italiana Pizzaioli, Italy’s leading professional pizza school.  After receiving its certification, Kostas developed a crust, whose dough requires a four-day fermentation process.  

 

Further Kostas oversees buying for the restaurant, ensuring a dual focus on ingredients for the restaurant--authentic Greek or local.

 

Chef Austin Poulin was executive chef at Hill Farm Inn, where he developed his own reputation for pizzas as well as fine cuisine.  A herniated disc forced him to take three months off and contemplate the direction of his career, leading him to Lola and a chance to deepen his knowledge of Mediterranean food.   

 

Carmen and Kostas originally hoped to save the existing building, but that proved impractical, so they came up with the basic design, and Carmen created what became the interior look for the restaurant, an artful blend of modern and timeless wood, stone and glass. A builder from Maine crafted the pizza oven--all 9000 pounds of it.  

 

And the family dog, Lola, agreed to share her name.

 

When my friend Rob and I entered on a late Wednesday evening, the place was abuzz.  The ambiance was quiet and sophisticated, the staff young and energetic.  The tables and chairs are stylish, as are napkins and silverware.  Even the plates have a pleasing, modern, yet earthy feel.   The restaurant features a chef’s counter as well as a bar,  both of which serve food and require no reservation. (Spaces usually fill up quickly!) 

 

Once seated, Rob ordered a cocktail, the Solara.  

 

Eating at Lola is like being immersed in a cool song, say,  Afro-Blue (Coltran’s version, live at Birdland). The music flows along, happily, smoothly then--a crash of cymbals or a wail of the sax snaps you into a new appreciation of the flow you’re caught up in.

 

The Solara starts the evening off with a crash of cymbals.  The gin and falernum (a syrup that blends ginger, lime and almond) provides a smooth baseline, and the lime snaps everything to attention.

 

I opt for the Skouras red, from the Peloponnese peninsula--full and smooth.

 

The Fig and Harrissa pizza arrives.  Harissa sauce--originally from Tunisia--features red chile paste, giving the pizza a pleasing earthy tomato flavor with a hint of spice.  The fig, the honey, the spicy sopressata (an Italian pork sausage) combine with the chewy, light crust to make this a wonderful pizza. (Yes, Kostas’s four-day process succeeds brilliantly.)  

 

If you’re looking at the pita bread and choice of dips and you can’t decide,  order The Mezze Dip Board--the pita with all four dips--as well as scrumptious olives and figs. The pita bread is perfect for the parade of flavors of the dips.  The tzatziki dip (cucumber, yogurt, dill) was “refreshing” according to Rob, who liked that it went light on garlic. The fava looks like hummus, but has more texture with the finely creamed fava beans, flavored intriguingly by pickled cauliflower.  (We had to check the menu to discover just what that alluring flavor was.) I liked the melizanosalata dip (eggplant with a touch of piquillo pepper and mint).  

 

The crash of cymbals came  via the tirokafteri dip-- “spicy whipped feta and pickled red onion.”  This, too, had wax and piquillo peppers.  

 

I confess:  I’m not the guy at the table who cries, “Bring on the heat!” with my baseball cap turned backwards.   But this tirokafteri dip--wow!  It was spicy, hot--yes--but my ears weren’t sweating afterward.  Just a nice shot of flavor--a definite highlight of the meal.

 

Kostas tells me later that the secret to the dip is the feta--specially selected from Greece.

 

The htapodi--the menu is a crash course in Greek--(grilled octopus) was tender and firm--delicious.

 

The giouvetsi (braised lamb shank) was “perfectly cooked” said Rob.  “It just falls off the bone.”  (Rob raises sheep, so he knows lamb.) The tender lamb paired beautifully with the pine nuts and orzo (a small pasta). 

 

I liked the moussaka, the bechamel sauce bathing the potato and eggplant in creaminess.

 

The service was great.  Our server, Bria, was bright, friendly, and attentive.  Through our questions, we discovered that she drives in 40 minutes for work, and that she’d formerly worked in the gardens of Earth, Sky, Time, known locally for its wonderful bread. Other servers brought food: many hands make light, invisible work.

 

Did we have room for dessert?

 

Of course.  

 

The baklava--we had to have baklava--was oozing with honey, yet light.  The surprise was the Greek doughnuts (loukoumades)--too tempting, their crunchy sweetness perfectly paired with vanilla ice cream.

 

Carmen had recommended the kiparissi to close out the meal.  This drink could single-handedly bring back hot toddies to Manchester.   It’s served in a small copper dipper.  It features rakamelo--a Greek digestif new to me.  To Rob it tasted like a mild, warm Jägermeister--a blast from the 80s, jiggered into a perfect winter drink.  

 

The food, the seating, the ambiance, the service--all had me searching for something epicurean to conclude.  And so, to Epicurus himself: 

 

If I am, then death is not.

If Death is, then I am not.

Why should I fear that which can only exist when I do not?

 

This direct, logical, foundational appeal is at the heart of Lola: we’re here, we’re alive, let’s eat, let’s drink, let’s enjoy each other’s company.  

 

Lola Mediterranean Woodfire is a stellar place to do just that.

 

Now open for lunch!