At Fiore Fine Dining, housed within the breathtaking Lesante Cape Resort in Akrotiri, Zakynthos, dinner unfolds not as a sequence of dishes but as a story—an ode to the Ionian Island told through the language of haute cuisine.
As I sat down overlooking the infinite blue of sea and sky, bathed in the honeyed light of sunset, the silence felt intentional. Here, you are not just fed—you are transported.
The creators of this journey, executive chef Nikos Ispiroudis and chef de cuisine Yiannis Binkas, take inspiration from the traditional flavors of Zakynthos and reimagine them with the precision and elegance of French technique, all while remaining reverently rooted in the land’s culinary soul.
Amuse bouche
The first bite, a chef’s welcome tartlet, set the tone for the entire evening: meticulous, restrained, and quietly dazzling. A crisp shell cradled fresh scallops resting on a lemon zest cream, their marine sweetness sharpened by the acidity and rounded off by peas, Trikala bottarga, and a precious spoonful of Oscietra caviar from Kaviari Paris.
The elements were in perfect balance—a miniature ode to land and sea in one bite. Following this, a croustade appeared, made with Kilados shrimp marinated just to the point of tenderness, placed over a mousse-like cream of barrel-aged feta cheese from Zakynthos. Semi-dried tomato lent a bittersweet note, and fresh herbs completed a mouthful that was sun-drenched, herbaceous, and faintly nostalgic.
Next amuse bouche was a surprising take on an Athenian salad: sweet blue crab from Katerini paired with paper-thin baby lettuce and finely sliced green apple. Its composition was light and clean but carried the confidence of technique that doesn’t need to shout.
Then came a moment of indulgent familiarity—mini moussaka, rendered here in a bite-sized form using minced rib-eye from dry-aged Greek beef. Rich, velvety, yet without heaviness, it was a distilled version of a beloved comfort dish, refined for a fine dining palate but still beating with its rustic heart.
Before the next course arrived, we were presented with the bread: a ceremony unto itself. Slow-rise sourdough with a chewy crust was accompanied by breadsticks laced with carob honey and walnuts, others with saffron and orange. “The Governor” olive oil from Corfu sat gleaming beside a butter infused with caramelized watercress and a pinch of fleur de sel. It wasn’t just bread—it was a subtle interlude, a meditation on texture and terroir.
What followed was perhaps one of the most complex, intriguing courses of the evening: neratzosalata, featuring cured daska, a local fish lightly marinated with citrus, layered with orange segments, a vivid tarama, and dusted with bottarga. The saltiness and brightness played together in a kind of culinary duet, while a Trikala egg added unexpected depth.
Then came garidaki—once again showcasing Koilados (red) shrimp, this time in a daring composition with beetroot cream, strawberry syrup, and a hint of vanilla. It was a delicate balance between sea and orchard, floral and briny, creating a slightly surreal but remarkably coherent flavor profile.
Up next was the nerokremmydopita, a Zakynthian water onion pie reinterpreted as a fine pastry with pretza cheese and fennel, resting on a slow-cooked onion base that was both savory and sweet, kissed with musk jus and flecked with truffle from Halkidiki. Each bite was velvety, deep, and grounding—at once rural and sophisticated.
Another standout dish was savoro, constructed around koutsomoura (red mullet), layered with textures of courgette, pieces of dried fig, shards of smoked eel from Arta, and a crumble of Lefkada salami. The savoro sauce, a complex interplay of acid and smoke, lifted everything with an almost balsamic brightness. The components were bold but restrained—every ingredient served the whole.
Then came the most ethereal course of the evening: fricassee, featuring catch of the day—in our case, a delicate stára—set against a cream of fennel and celery root, nestled in garden wild greens, and bathed in avgolemono. Razor clams brought marine sweetness, while Oscietra caviar returned, adding quiet luxury and a saline echo. Pistachios offered a final crunch, grounding the otherwise weightless dish.
Finally, the skordostoupi arrived, reimagined not as a rustic stew, but as an opera in multiple movements. Local milk-fed lamb, slow-cooked to yielding perfection, was paired with an earthy eggplant purée, an emulsion of wild garlic, a glossy ladograviera cream, and a rich lamb jus. Accompanying it was a miniature lamb meat pie, flaky and intense, dotted with preserved lemon and fresh herbs. This was no longer just a dish—it was a thesis on island hospitality, executed with the discipline of a Parisian kitchen.
Service throughout was quietly choreographed, with servers explaining dishes like storytellers—never overbearing, always informed. Wine pairings ranged from crisp Assyrtiko to round, mineral Chardonnays and herbaceous Peloponnesian whites, always enhancing, never distracting.
What makes Fiore Fine Dining truly exceptional is its emotional intelligence. It doesn’t simply strive for luxury, it seeks to evoke memory, to honor land, sea, and History. In the hands of chefs Ispiroudis and Binkas, Zakynthos becomes more than an island; it becomes a language, translated with clarity and reverence on every plate. Dining here isn’t just nourishment—it’s remembrance. A ritual. A homecoming.