It was a feast of biblical proportions. Dish after delicious dish was presented by crowlike crones, and the old man pouring the sour wine ordered me never to empty my glass in company because it reflected badly on the host.
The sun set, the moon rose, someone played an accordion and still the food kept coming, and, in the two decades since, I have rarely been better fed or worse paid.
These days, though, it's harder to find the real thing. I've eaten miserable mezes all over the Med that have left me dyspeptic and disappointed.
What makes 7 St Georges the best? First, there's the unrepentantly epicurean philosophy. "Forget the meze you've eaten in tourist ghettos," growls proprietor George Demetriades. "This is the real thing. I will keep bringing food until you are full, for as long as it takes." And he means it.
Second, the ingredients. There are 1,950 edible plants growing on Cyprus and Demetriades knows where to find them. Depending on the season, he gathers amaranth, wild leeks, purslane, borage, dandelions, wild artichokes and wild mushrooms from the Paphos forest. The rest he grows himself. The meat and cheese come from local farms, seafood is delivered by the fishermen who caught it, and the game is shot by Demetriades himself.
Third, the wine. "I make it," he says. "I use 80% mavro – the black grape of Cyprus – 10% mattaro and 10% maratheftiko. The white is 95% xynisteri and 5% malaga, and, because my wines are organic, there's no hangover."
Finally, there's the uplifting fact that Demetriades refuses to treat vegetarians like second-class citizens, offering an organic, meat-free alternative for every course.
At its most authentic, the meze reflects the Cypriot character, wherein the desire to display overwhelming hospitality is in conflict with a prudence born of poverty. So the cheap, filling dishes always come first – in this case, olives, accompanied by home-baked bread with nuts, followed by thick-sliced tomatoes dusted in sea salt and drizzled with olive oil that tasted like mown grass.
Next came aubergines cooked with tomatoes and olives, chased by black-eyed beans with lemon, and tiny spears of wild asparagus braised with wild fennel.
Then came the forest mushrooms. Dense, black and fleshy, like the meat of an exotic crustacean, they were served in a sauce of onion, wild thyme and red wine.
A plate piled high with grilled halloumi – golden and crunchy on the outside, almost liquid in the centre – was followed, at last, by the meat. Char-grilled chicken souvla blazed a trail for the handmade pork sausages, wrapped in pig's caul, called sheftalia, and a gorgeously greasy kleftiko – lamb cooked over hot coals in a sealed pit for a day or more. Then came tiny plates of afelia – succulent cubes of pork in a thick sauce of red wine with cinnamon, bay leaf and coriander.
More was to follow: roast beef, then stiphado – a thick rabbit stew. By now, though, I was waving the white flag and Demetriades accepted my surrender with a bowl of nuts, goat's cheese and honey.
"There are 13 wild hives out there in the Troodos Mountains," he said, pouring black honey over the pale cheese. "I know because I collect the combs myself."
I expected nothing less.
Travel brief
7 St Georges Tavern (00 35 7 2696 3176, www.7stgeorgestavern.com ), Yeroskepos, Paphos, Cyprus. Meze costs about £17.50, including wine. Closed Mondays.
Stay in Yeroskepos at the Phytos Inn, bookable through Sunvil (020 8568 4499, www.sunvil.co.uk ), which offers five nights from £403pp, including flights from London and car hire
