A decade is a long time to stay away from a city that breathes in pine and exhales nostalgia.
The last time I spent any meaningful time in Baguio, life looked different. My mother was still alive, so was my younger sister. The future seemed larger then, unfolding ahead with the confidence that only youth can afford. Ten years passed almost without permission, consumed by work, responsibilities, grief, and the thousand ordinary things that quietly pull us away from places we keep promising to revisit.
So when I finally found myself traveling to Baguio City once again, watching the landscape transform from lowland heat into mist-covered mountains, I wasn't merely returning to a destination. I was returning to a version of myself that had been left waiting somewhere among the pine trees.
Yet as comforting as the city felt, I quickly realized that nostalgia alone could not sustain a journey. I wanted something new. Something that would justify the return.
That something turned out to be Lemon and Olives Greek Taverna.
Whisper of Greece in the Cold Mountain Air
Perched on a hillside overlooking beautiful greeneries, the restaurant feels almost improbable at first glance. Greece and Baguio are not places one naturally associates with each other. Yet the moment I stepped through its doors, the pairing somehow made perfect sense. The warmth of wood softened the bright white walls. Blue accents echoed the colors of the Mediterranean while large windows framed the rolling mountains of Benguet.
Perhaps that is why I remember the meal so vividly.
Greek Food in the City of Pines
Meals like this don’t begin with spectacle. They begin with something smaller, more deliberate. Then it moves into something elaborate, complex, but still downright comforting.
Meli Saganaki
The Meli Saganaki arrived first, and with it came the unmistakable realization that this was not going to be an ordinary lunch.
The cheese sat proudly in its skillet, bronzed and bubbling from the heat. Honey cascaded over its edges in golden ribbons while strawberry compote and oregano added color and fragrance.
If the saganaki was bold and dramatic, the hummus was quietly confident.
Hummus
Silky smooth and deeply satisfying, it carried the nutty richness of chickpeas and tahini while excellent olive oil brought everything together. The warm pita bread that accompanied it emerged from the kitchen soft, slightly charred, and wonderfully aromatic.
Zucchini Chips
Then came the zucchini chips, which may very well be one of the restaurant's most underrated offerings.
The slices were impossibly thin, fried until they achieved a delicate crispness that shattered almost instantly upon contact. Unlike lesser versions that often become greasy and heavy, these retained a remarkable lightness. Their subtle sweetness lingered pleasantly on the palate, making them dangerously easy to devour. I found myself reaching for another piece and then another until the bowl was nearly empty.
The L&O Salad
The Lemon and Olives Salad arrived next, bringing a welcome freshness to the table.
Crisp greens mingled with cucumbers, cranberries, walnuts, sun-dried tomatoes, and generous shavings of parmesan cheese. A honey lemon dressing tied everything together with a brightness that seemed perfectly suited to Baguio's cool climate. Each forkful offered contrast of sweet against tangy, crunchy against tender, rich against refreshing. It served as a reminder that a good salad should never feel like an obligation. It should feel like a pleasure.
The Souvlaki Mixed Plates
The heart of the meal arrived in the form of the restaurant's famous Souvlaki Mixed Plates.
There is something deeply satisfying about food that invites participation. The platters arrived laden with beautifully grilled meats, vegetables, warm pita bread, fries, accompanied with chili and tzatziki dip.
Assembling each bite became a small ritual. A piece of meat tucked into warm pita. Slip in some fries. A few vegetables for freshness. A spoonful of tzatziki and chili if so inclined. Every combination yielded a slightly different experience, yet all of them were immensely satisfying. Highly recommended to play with combination until you meet the one that hits the spot for you.
Grilled Pampano
The grilled pompano followed and demonstrated the beauty of restraint.
The fish emerged from the grill with crisp charred skin and moist, flaky flesh that separated effortlessly with the touch of a fork. Lemon and olive oil enhanced rather than overshadowed its natural sweetness. There’s only little embellishment of olives and cherry tomatoes, but no attempt to complicate what was already perfect. It was a dish that trusted both its ingredients and its execution.
Moussaka
The moussaka proved equally memorable.
Layers of eggplant and potatoes embraced a savory filling of seasoned ground beef, all crowned with a velvety béchamel sauce that turned golden in the oven. The result was rich without being overwhelming, hearty without becoming heavy. It possessed the kind of comfort usually associated with dishes passed down through generations, recipes refined through years of family gatherings and shared meals.
By this point, I was convinced the meal had already reached its peak.
I was wrong.
Classic Baklava
The Classic Baklava arrived first, its delicate layers of pastry crackling softly beneath a generous coating of honey and crushed nuts. The sweetness was measured rather than excessive, allowing the flavors of pistachios and walnuts to remain distinct. Every bite delivered texture, fragrance, and richness in perfect proportion.
The only thing that broke my heart was its minuscule serving portion compared to the usual baklava you can buy elsewhere within the same price range. Otherwise, it was a delight to have.
Baklava Cheesecake
The Baklava Cheesecake offered a clever interpretation of a beloved classic. The creamy cheesecake tempered the sweetness of the baklava while preserving its nutty complexity. It was familiar enough to feel comforting yet different enough to feel exciting.
Loukoumades
Soft, golden, unapologetically sweet and cinnamony. Loukoumades is an airy deep-fried dough that tasted familiar but somehow different. Their light texture makes them dangerously easy to devour, one after another. More than a dessert, they evoke the simple pleasure of sharing something warm, sweet, and freshly made.
Lemon and Olives' Ekmek
Layers of pastry, cream, and syrup combined to create something astonishingly light despite its obvious richness. The sweetness unfolded gradually rather than overwhelming the palate. Every spoonful felt ethereal, almost weightless. It is rare to encounter a dessert so indulgent and so elegant at the same time.
The Moment That Stays and Matters
As I sat there enjoying dessert and sipping strong Greek coffee, my thoughts drifted toward my mother and my sister. Perhaps it was the warmth of the restaurant. Perhaps it was the way good food encourages reflection. Or perhaps it was simply because the most memorable meals inevitably make us think about the people we wish were sharing them.
My mother would have adored this place. With her legendary sweet tooth, she would have fallen head over heels with the desserts
And my sister, who never met a meat dish she didn't love, would have insisted ordering steaks and ribs.
Grief has a peculiar way of accompanying joy.
It sits beside you at the table without announcing its presence.
