Restaurant Review: Going Greek with Manoli's 

• Alex Springer

We've got a pretty decent list of James Beard Award nominees from Utah this year, which has me thinking that it's time to check in with some of these monsters of the local restaurant scene. It's been years since I have visited most of these places, and there are a few that I am ashamed to admit that I have yet to check out. Sitting right on top of that shameful list would have to be Manoli's.

Owned by Chefs Manoli Katsanevas and Katrina Cutrubus, Manoli's has come out on top of its share of struggles—including getting flooded in 2022—since it opened in 2016. While I have been meaning to check Manoli's out forever, it helped to come to the restaurant blind on the heels of a James Beard nomination. If I were one of the regulars who came to expect a certain level of banter and chit-chat, it would be easy to weigh in on how much Manoli's deserves to be recognized. But here I was, a random dude off the street just popping in to sample a few small plates.

So how well did Manoli's exemplify the concept of hospitality? Pretty damn well, truth be told. Inside, Manoli's is a cozy little spot that makes good use of its space. As I was flying solo, I took a spot at the counter, because it gave me a front-row seat to the kitchen. There's something endlessly satisfying about watching a finely-tuned kitchen staff prepare the evening's dishes.

Manoli's menu has a few larger entrees, but I think there's some value in sticking with the small plates or meze. I ordered the tyropita ($14) and the moschari souvlaki ($19) with plans to check out the dessert menu afterward. The tyropita are small, triangular phyllo pockets filled with rosemary, feta and myzithra cheese. The pockets are placed on roasted mushroom duxelles, which is a cute nod to French cuisine. Each pocket is absolutely stuffed with the cheese and herb mixture, which is hot and melty when it comes to the table. Getting a bite of each pocket and the duxelles is an excellent way to jumpstart your appetite—the duxelles' rich, savory notes contrast nicely with the sharpness of the feta and myzithra cheeses. I think what I most enjoyed about the tyropita is that it presents a good analog for Manoli's as a whole: It looks familiar and cozy, but will absolutely knock you on your ass with some bold flavors.

Though the souvlaki is not technically an entree, its portion size and protein-forward presentation certainly feels like it could be. Per souvlaki regulations, the short rib comes served on a wooden skewer. It's topped with a lovely, acidic charred shallot and red wine glaze, then placed into a bowl of celery root and potato puree. On a nostalgic level, this is a Greek throwback to the Sunday pot roasts I grew up with—except, you know, way better. I think it was the charred shallot and wine glaze that really sent this over the top for me. It perfectly married the flavors of the short rib and the puree.

I sprung for dessert because Manoli's makes loukoumades ($10), which are Greek doughnuts drizzled with spiced honey. I don't think I've ever ordered a specifically after-dinner drink, and I went with the Zestasia ($16). It was the Metaxa that sold me; Greek brandy with Greek doughnuts sounded like quite the party. All in all, this was a fantastic way to end the meal. The loukoumades are golden brown on the outside and pillowy soft on the inside, and that spiced honey was indeed best friends with my dessert cocktail.

Throughout my whole visit, the service was attentive, and I loved being able to see the chefs apply their craft. I think Manoli's is definitely the type of restaurant that flourishes with a group of diners, as a lot of their meze are shareable, and the bar serves up plenty of creative drinks. That said, my solo experience there was nothing short of a delight. There are times when you visit a restaurant as a present to yourself, and Manoli's is the perfect place for such an occasion.

Which brings us back to the idea of hospitality. As I see it, there is a reason "hospital" exists within that word. When a place like Manoli's shows its guests the kind of hospitality that it's become known for, it is providing a spiritual cure. It's the kind of cure that is hard to pin down in our frustratingly binary world, but it cures the soul of its need to be taken care of. Not in a big, dramatic way, mind you. It's a way that only reveals itself in the smile of a server or in the clatter of a gorgeously prepared plate being placed in front of you. This is why the hospitality industry is so important, and Manoli's truly understands the assignment.