Posted by Melissa Bell in greek, product comparison, restaurant review on March 6, 2008 at 7:36 am

Taramosalata, sometimes spelled taramasalata, is a classic Greek appetizer that is a tongue-tinglingly salty, creamy, sensual and sunny-bright delight, harbouring a complex taste and texture resulting from the intimate mixture of a few ordinary elements. Taramosalata's basic components are red fish roe (usually cod or carp), bread or potatoes, lemon juice, and olive oil. These are whipped together resulting in a smooth-ish paste usually served with pita for dipping or, in my case, scooping. Perfect with a glass of resin-y retsina.

I'm not sure what made me order the taramosalata the first time I ever saw it on a menu. I'd never heard of it before and had no idea what to expect. Not that it mattered - one taste and I was deliriously happy with my seemed-risky-at-the-time menu choice – this was something I wanted to try again and again. Sadly, after my introduction to this simple blush-coloured starter, the restaurant that had first brought this Hellenic treat to my table – the legendary Orestes' in Vancouver – had closed its doors. Could I ever experience such love ever again?

Listed simply as tarama on the menu at Penelope's (225 King Street West), this version of taramosalata ($5.95) is made with potatoes. It arrives with a plateload of pita triangles, is astonishingly pink, and is adorned with a single black olive. A spoon has been shoved into it for no reason that I can think of; taramosalata is sturdy enough to eat with a fork, spread with a knife, or the pita can be dipped into it directly. This taramosalata tastes a mite on the fishy side. It's over-the-top sharp – perhaps that's just the lemon juice, but this doesn't taste too lemony. I offer some to my dining companion, a taramosalata virgin. He winces a little as he swallows it, and doesn't ask for seconds. Allow me to take this opportunity to say that, for many, taramosalata is an acquired taste, like say anchovies or a good martini. However while one is working on acquiring that taste, they might want to give Penelope's rendition of this Greek classic a miss. It's not horrible, but it's not going to make any new friends either.

And neither is the taramosalata served at Just Greek (3004 Bloor Street West) for $5.45. I suffered through a tablespoonful and that was quite enough. Painfully sour, fishy, and garnished with a sad, beaten-up olive, this is a plateful of Greek tragedy.

I listened to my inner chorus and headed to the Danforth.

Kalyvia's (420 Danforth Avenue) taramosalata ($5.95) is described on their website as "red caviar dip, lemon, grated cucumber, oil, spices". If there's grated cucumber in there, I didn't detect it. Which is fine by me – I was never expecting it – cucumber is meant for tzatziki, not taramosalata. As for the "oil" and the "spices"… why so non-specific? I ask the server whether Kalyvia's version of the dip is made with bread or potatoes. I'm told both. It wasn't clear whether his response meant it's sometimes made with bread, and sometimes with potatoes, or both at once. Whatever. My curiosity wasn't piqued upon tasting. Kalyvia's taramosalata is decent and passable, but it's no standout. If I were to use Greek celebrity as an analogy for excitement, this is more George Dukakis than Olympia.

Omonia's (426 Danforth Avenue) taramosalata ($6) arrives with a sprinkle of chopped parsley in addition to the standard solo black olive garnish. And the parsley is really the only remarkable thing about it. Taste-wise, it's fine, but it's not going to create any lasting memories.

A few doors down the block, the friendly server at Megas (402 Danforth Avenue) tells me their taramosalata ($5.95) is "the best in town". In a neighbourhood full of quality Greek eateries, that's a pretty bold statement. But wait! While I certainly haven't eaten at every place in the GTA that serves taramosalata, Megas' pinky dip is close enough to the transcendent interpretation first experienced at Orestes' so many years ago, it tugs at the bouzouki strings of my fish-roe-dip-loving heart. Made with bread instead of potatoes (is that the trick?) this taramosalata is refreshingly light and fluffy, devoid of any fishy taste, and is swooningly smooth. It's so good it doesn't even need the pita and homemade bread that come with it – this is the straight-off-the-spoon-worthy version that perhaps Penelope's was hoping to achieve.

Thank you Megas; my tarama love is no longer under arrest by Orestes'. Which Greek god do I thank for that?