Review: Opa has us saying just that

The salad menu at Opa includes this Greek salad; antipasti, Caesar, chef, tuna and chicken salads also are served. Click below for an up-close look at more of Opa's dishes. (Credit: Andy Barron)

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Opa Subs & Espresso

A look at some of Opa's dishes

Where is the exclamation point? This snippet of punctuational puzzlement comes to mind as I open the menu at Opa Subs & Espresso.

"Opa," the Greek expression of joy or celebration, often finishes with a flourish, an exclamation point: Opa! Like the perfect garnish on a perfect plate.

But not here, at Opa Subs & Espresso. Is this punctuational modesty deliberate? Perhaps, perhaps not. Either way, it's in keeping with the restaurant itself, which occupies a modest storefront space in the Airport Square Plaza on Plumb Lane.

At capacity, Opa seats about 20 diners — snugly. On one visit, for instance, my typically generous Hawaiian posterior (much slimmer after weight loss, but still regrettably ample, I think) brushes the equally upholstered backside of a fellow diner each time we pass on the way to and from the order counter.

But the walls — a sort of lusty lilac tending toward plum — and ridiculously beautiful travel poster views of Greece lighten the close quarters.

The menu at Opa is livelier and offers more of interest than the restaurant's modest name suggests.

There are subs and hot sandwiches and pizzas, of course, but also panini, pastas, gyros (both sandwiches and platters), salads, and eastern Mediterranean standards like avgolemono (the Greek version of egg and lemon soup), dolmades (stuffed grape leaves), hummus and baba ganoush.

At one lunch, I like the kooky appeal of fettuccine primavera alfredo, the health benefits of vegetables literally smothered by the baleful richness (for arteries, anyway) of cream sauce. But my order never gets off the ground.

"It's going to be at least 20 minutes — we don't microwave it," the owner says, a bit gruffly.

Fair enough. The kitchen is modest (charitably put), and I appreciate being informed of the timeline, especially at lunch. But the brusqueness isn't encouraging.

The owner begins to warm when I start pestering him about the ingredients in his excellent tzatziki, the classic Greek appetizer or sauce.

Opa's appetizer tzatziki is as thick as sour cream. It arrives with chunks of feta cheese, olives, sliced cucumbers and tomatoes, and tender-chewy flatbread.

My companion and I smear tzatziki on the bread and wrap it around cheese and vegetables. The tzatziki, correctly, offers a gentle bite. We taste garlic and lemon juice, standard tzatziki ingredients, but there's something else?

More dill than usual? No, I don't think so. Flecks of oregano? The owner doesn't succumb to my friendly inquisition.

He's similarly mum about the composition of the lightly punchy baba ganoush. This time, I'm almost certain I taste a whisper of oregano. Ah, well. The dish is delicious, the best baba ganoush I've had in town.

Spanakopita, or spinach and cheese pie, is rich and flaky and served with more of that accomplished tzatziki.

Gyros — the definition is broadly conceived at Opa — can be built with lamb, beef, chicken or vegetable fillings. My party opts for tender chicken, which makes the gyro akin to shawarma, a Middle Eastern flatbread sandwich often stuffed with chicken.

The gyro's tzatziki dressing is looser here because it's employed as a sauce, not an appetizer. Drip. Drip. Drip. Somehow, the rivulet of sauce emerging from the gyro misses our shirts and our laps.

Opa bills itself as a sandwich shop, so no inspection would be complete without trying at least one; we opt for a ham and cheese panino.

Panini are often a touch greasy, and this one is no different.

Still, it's thick and gooey and — Hey! Is there some tzatziki left? Let's just dip this one last bite of ham and cheese.

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