#eatproper

[ecogreenlux]

Healthy, wealthy n’ wise!!! 💚💚💚💚💚 #eatright #eatclean #eatlean #eatproper #eathealthy #dynamofood (at London, Ontario) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cc3kA2pu0jA/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[mauricedaher]

Our bodies are meant to move...stay active... 🏋🏻‍♀️ - Give your Brain a liquid hug 🤗 (coffee) ☕️ - Feed your body dense nutrients 🥩🍖🥓 - Be thankful for what you have... 🙏 Whether you make a dollar or a hundred... - Open your eyes to see the good things in your life.. - Smile 😃 often ... Happy Tuesday 🤗 #stayactive #thankful #eatproper #goworkout #nojunkfood #carnivorediet #ketodiet #paleodiet #intermittentfasting #stayhealthy #bulletproofcoffee (at Calgary, Alberta) https://www.instagram.com/p/BoJmyAiBNYF/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1g5u19172zp2b

[izzy-poa]

The Lil Lady. #EatProper #TeachEmYoung

[eatproper-blog]

Let’s have a Kiki’s

Tucked away deep in the East Broadway side of Chinatown, amongst Chinese gift-and-school-supplies stores and storefronts for Chinese Associations, spitting distance from some of the city’s best Dim Sum, and sitting under a sign advertising printing and signs (half in Chinese), is a little Greek restaurant, named Kiki’s. Kiki’s is casual, understated, affordably priced, and delicious. Kiki’s has managed to take the char, price, minimally Mediterranean decor, and modesty of any fantastic Greek eatery in Astoria, and open its olive-green French doors on a stretch of Chinatown that, thanks to the draw of places like Mission Chinese Food and Pies ’n Thighs, has become an increasingly interesting culinary locale.

On a Sunday night in August, this place is full. With all windows and doors open, people are almost spilling onto the sidewalk, huddled around small tables bearing many large plates, and bottles of Assyrtiko. The crowd is diverse—punks in leather vests, guys who wear suits on Sundays, families taking Grandma out to dinner, 20-something post-grads finishing off their beers as they show each other women on Tinder—and yet no one seems out of place. The walls carry on the olive-green theme, studded with dimmed sconces and a variety of framed photographs and paintings—some, it seems, from local artists, and others of the Old Country. The space feels like it started in one building and annexed the two next-door; only as we were leaving did we notice another abnormally-shaped dining room past the one adjacent to ours. This idiosyncrasy works to keep the place fresh and interesting, while the long menu, authentic and unadulterated, is able to shine.

The menu reads like your Greek grandmother is trying to get you to eat more. Have the octopus, it’s “delectable and uncomplicated.” Here, have a “straightforward helping of MEAT”—as if capitalizing the meat will get you to have more of it. “You look so skinny; eat!” I can hear my metaphorical grandmother say, as she pushes the meat plate closer to me.

Grandma doesn’t lie, because the octopus is exactly that, delectable and uncomplicated, cut into small pieces, remarkably tender, painted with char, and scattered rustically in a pool of lemon and olive oil. Next is moussaka, which brought to mind a shepard’s pie I once had as a teenager in London, although this one has eggplant and perhaps a little cinnamon, and is topped off with a thick layer of béchamel, perfectly browned on top for texture.

For the phyllo fanatics, there's saganaki, a fried cheese pie drizzled with honey and sesame seeds. It is almost dessert, but just enough savory that mom won’t yell at you for eating it first.

Everything about this place is unpretentious, which is refreshing in an era when so many restaurants are trying to out-devilled-eggs each other. Similarly, the staff, attractive and interesting-looking in a toned down, linen-dress sort of way, isn’t competing for who has the most extreme side shave or the weirdest lipstick color. Everyone who works here seems to really enjoy working here, and it is palpable. They move through the small space with ease, and are eager to answer any questions you may have, or bring you a new jug of water, or sell you a half-liter carafe of rose, even though the option isn’t listed on the menu.

Reggae quietly bumps in the background. It’s far from thematic, but it is certainly appropriate. With enough imagination, you might be able to close your eyes and picture yourself at a low-key seaside restaurant on a Greek island, enjoying a heavy-handed squeeze of lemon and the island’s endless summer.

On a scale from 1 to 10, 1 being you’d rather Donald Trump win the election than ever step foot in here again, and 10 being you’d campaign for Kanye West in 2020 if it meant you could eat here even one more time, I give Kiki’s an 8.