Philadelphia Weekly

Home again: The Pitsillides returned to Philly to open

Three-year-old Leander Pitsillides stares at his supper: fresh artichoke salad, handmade sausage with red wine and coriander, roast potato and pistachio keftedes (a Greek meatball). But something's not right. He gestures for a squeeze of lemon, then a grind of black pepper, and finishes off with a dusting of za'atar (a Middle Eastern spice blend). Now it's time to dig in.

Last February Konstantinos Pitsillides and his family packed up and moved to Cyprus with dreams of a simpler life and a restaurant of their own. But after eight months the chef observed that "food-wise my whole culture is disappearing before my eyes."

Pitsillides resolved to return to Philadelphia and open his own restaurant as a way of honoring and preserving the food he grew up with: a Cypriot cuisine with influences from Greece, Turkey, France and Italy. But Konstantinos is quick to add that the menu is far from trendy fusion.

These countries made their mark as conquerors. Diners can expect honest food with "nothing pretentious" and an emphasis on simplicity, secondary cuts of meat (lamb's kidneys, rabbit loin) and traditional ingredients.

Konstantinos and his wife Caroline are working at a breakneck pace in an effort to open Kanella--cinnamon in Greek--by March. Much of their time is spent updating the space, a former Greek diner on the corner of 10th and Spruce.

Caroline's busy replacing tile, exposing brick and removing a wall-length photograph of a coastal Greek village. Father Nektarios of Center City's Greek Orthodox Church is slated to bless Kanella when its doors open, which is fitting, as he was served the last meal at Meze, the now-closed restaurant where Konstantinos was chef.

A recent Thursday morning offers a behind-the-scenes snapshot. By the old takeout counter Konstantinos speaks rapid-fire Greek to an electrician while gesturing toward glass chandeliers that need replacing. The budget for renovations is modest, and he's hoping for a lower estimate. The electrician shakes his head. "I'm not as young as I used to be," he says.

Meanwhile Caroline speaks to the awning company. They discuss fonts, logos, colors, fabric and the options for a scalloped decorative edge. "Do you have a lot of pigeons here?" asks the salesman, concerned about droppings.

In the middle of it all sits 15-month-old Isis, who with perfect comic timing, squeezes a stuffed dog that sings "If You're Happy and You Know It" in Greek.

A produce wholesaler comes by and remarks on the infant's beauty. "Yes, she's going to be locked up for the next 20 years," says Konstantinos, and with that he starts reviewing his grocery list. "I need the leaves on the celery intact. And do you carry elderflower?"

Back at the Pitsillides' West Philadelphia home Konstantinos finishes the meal with apple flan, preserved cherries and orange rind. Caroline retrieves a package of 3-foot-tall cinnamon sticks from one of the moving boxes that surrounds the dining room table, and entertains Leander.

Isis feeds the remaining scraps of her dinner to Falcor, the Cypriot cocker spaniel, who's expectantly stationed below the high chair. Tonight, two things are in the air: the smell of kanella and the promise of a new beginning.