This article is taken from the August-September 2024 issue of The Critic. To get the full magazine why not subscribe? Right now we’re offering five issues for just £10.

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“You can say what you like, Malcolm, but I don’t call that toast.”

Athens is presently Europe’s official Coolest City, but the English couple bickering over their breakfast in Monastiraki hadn’t got the memo.

Accompanying the art galleries, concept stores, outdoor cinemas and pop-up speakeasies that are redrawing the gloriously chaotic urban landscape of the Greek capital, a proper gastronomic renaissance is taking place, incorporating a revival of traditional kafeneion culture, gastro — tavernas and street-corner joints like Guerrilla in Exarcheia, the district that Hackney wanted to be when it grew up. Perhaps the greatest greedy pleasures on offer are the early (or not so early) morning innovations.

Bakeries are a big deal to Athenians, and most good ones are sold out by 9am. Lipsopita (sweet-savoury buns with olive oil and cinnamon), koulouri (the Byzantine ancestor of the pretzel) and savoury pies stuffed with courgette, feta and mint, wild horta greens or shredded chicken and caramelised onion are how the locals begin their day, with a sour cherry juice and the ubiquitous slug of violent Greek coffee, but breakfast remains a clannish meal.

Travellers who are delighted to dip a sliver of raw sea urchin into iced ouzo for an early evening mezze are less adventurous when it comes to breakfast. People want to wake up to familiarity; hence the dismal international preponderance of cornflakes and Nescafé wherever the Brits are abroad.

Not to judge anyone who fancies a full English and a pint before a hike up the Acropolis, but Malcolm should have gone to Ergon Bakehouse, which has gone a step further than the familiar restaurants-with-rooms concept by adding rooms to a bakery.

Essentially, it’s a sourdough version of the child in a sweetshop fantasy: who wouldn’t want to nod off in a fragrant fug of proving dough, knowing that you can eat all the cakes for breakfast?

The bedrooms themselves are sleekly designed, not to mention stocked with treats, but the unlimited à la carte breakfast is the biggest draw. Not a revolting all-you-can-eat buffet of the kind that makes one ashamed to be human, but a truly civilised rendering of what breakfast ought to be.

Ergon’s ground floor divides between the bakery and a serene, modern dining room where guests can order until noon. The star ingredient is the 72-hour sourdough, prepared in “steadfastly analogue” fashion in variants from startling wine-coloured beetroot to delicate, glowing turmeric.

Crumbs and coatings, rusks and buns, most dishes feature the magic bread in some form, alongside yoghurts, fruit and smoothies tweaked with Chios mastica or Cycladic citrus.

A smokestack toastie of graviera, cured ham and poached eggs came with absurdly generous shavings of white truffle; avocado toast with salmon was elevated with sesame and chive oil.

Cardamom or cinnamon buns come with separate pots of cream cheese frosting for dipping or slurping off the spoon; a salt caramel croissant tartlet was a puddle of creamy gold custard in a delicately frilled stratum of butter precariously held together with flour.

Restraint was something of a challenge, but summoning the spirit of Thermopylae we persisted, and returned for dinner at +2H, the Bakehouse’s top-floor restaurant.

Deep-fried cardboard would taste good with a view of sunset over Hadrian’s Library, which is why many of Athens’ rooftop terraces get away with murder, but dinner was every bit as ambrosial as breakfast.

Anchovy tarama with burrata and olive oil was sharp and salty, smooth and creamy, the contrasts allied by the deep fruit of the oil — very much a player, not a garnish. Sea bream with lemon, charred lettuce and nubbly chunks of koliva (an ancient strain of wheatberry) was breezily refreshing, the perfect preliminary to rich, dense uncut potato gnocchi with beef mince, chili and marinated egg yolk.

Traditional khinkali, smooth, ravioli-style dumplings which came stuffed with pork and peanut butter in a chilli yoghurt dressing was a history lesson and a revelation, referencing the myriad influences of Greek cuisine encased in silky nuggets of joyous deliciousness.

It’s that combination which makes Athens a truly special place to eat just now. In many respects, Greece has had a grim time since 2008. The challenges of climate deterioration, hyper-tourism, poverty and corruption haven’t disappeared, yet one can sense a spirit of resistance in a generation who refuse to see their country as Europe’s poor relation.

Whether you’re munching a burger by candlelight on an upturned crate in Petralona or pausing for a coffee and orange-flower pie on the chic, teetering streets of airy Kolonaki, you’ll find enthusiasm and pride in what’s being offered, a genuine excitement for rejecting souvlaki-and-chips clichés and a willingness to experiment with food traditions.

Ergon’s offerings epitomise this mood. As well as the Bakehouse, there’s a fabulous deli-restaurant round the corner on Mitropoleus, beach sites in Halkidiki and the islands and even a grocery on Regent Street, but nothing feels monotone or cynical. Yes, it’s an international brand, but one that has pretty good reasons to become a cult.