One of my favorite things about Thessaloniki is that, like in many other European cities, ancient history is on display everywhere you look. Churches pop up in the most random of neighborhoods, apartments built around their ancient foundations. Giant excavation pits are scattered about, showcasing the ruins that lie beneath the city, such as the sprawling park and Roman Forum that are practically my grandfather’s backyard. 

People are celebrating the grand opening of the Colosseum subway station, but I’d like to point out that Thessaloniki beat them to the concept, opening the Thessaloniki Metro and its accompanying underground museum in 2024, after nearly 40 years of delays caused by tunneling efforts repeatedly running into subterranean ruins.

Thessalonians live within history, not around it. They’re not the kind to shy away from repurposing an old building, though they do like to preserve the architecture of the space. One such building is Το Κόκκινο Σπίτι, or “The Red House” in English, which is a 1920s mansion at the heart of Thessaloniki. Though it was abandoned soon after its construction and remained empty for over 40 years, plagued by rumors and urban legends of hauntings, it has since been home to a number of businesses, including a cafe, football merchandise store and, most recently, a high-end restaurant. 

The cafe closed well before my time, but I’ve made many visits to The Red House in all its forms since. 

Like most Europeans, my father and grandfather are avid fans of their hometown football team (the Pan-Thessalonian Athletic Club of Constantinopolitans, or PAOK for short) and made sure to indoctrinate my brother and I from a young age, dressing us from head to toe in black-and-white-striped regalia purchased from the PAOK store, located in The Red House. As young kids, we quickly outgrew our clothes in between visits to Greece, so the first stop on every trip was The Red House, making it, in my mind, a signature landmark of Thessaloniki’s cityscape.

After its transformation into a restaurant, I’m even more convinced that The Red House deserves to be a bucket list destination for anyone’s trip to Thessaloniki. While I do rue the loss of the PAOK store — we now need to trek almost 3 miles to the stadium in order to buy merch — I can’t complain too much about the developments, as I absolutely adore the dining experience now offered by The Red House. 

From the moment you walk in, you’re surrounded by gorgeous red brick, left exposed and adorned with charming black-and-white photos of Thessaloniki. Mahogany furniture, large windows and warm lanterns bring a rustic yet refined atmosphere to a building already rich in history. 

Busy from early afternoon to midnight, it feels like half the city passes through The Red House in a day. Several times I’ve spotted couples out and about doing their shopping or errands around the city, only to realize they had been sitting at the table behind us at the establishment hours earlier.

The restaurant is known for their meat dishes, especially σουτζουκάκια (soutzoukakia), so my family always goes full carnivore when we dine there: two orders of soutzoukakia for my brother and dad, a λουκάνικο (smoked pork and lamb sausage) for me and a ginormous steak for my grandfather that he jokes sees him through the rest of the winter. 

I’m also a big fan of their appetizers, specifically the πολίτικη (cabbage salad) and γίγαντες (giant beans in tomato sauce). Every restaurant does γίγαντες a bit differently, and I find the ones at The Red House are not too acidic or oily and serve as a perfect dipping sauce for bread and fries. 

I was worried that after multiple ownership and name changes (as of my most recent visit, it is the second location of a restaurant called Διάβαση), there would be adjustments to the menu, but to my relief and delight, the quality and value of the food at The Red House hasn’t diminished at all. In fact, the prices are more reasonable than most restaurants in the same downtown area. 

But it’s not the food or the prices, though notable, that draws me to The Red House. What cemented my affection for the cafe-turned-merch-store-turned-fine-dining-establishment was its appreciation of its history, not just of its own but of its patrons.

The Red House is extremely popular among the crowd of older Thessalonians who love traditional meals, such as my grandfather, who is horrified at the very thought of eating anything remotely non-Greek: he’s called falafels “bizarre” and considers burritos to be “abominations.” 

As a result of being an affordable, orthodox choice for this senior audience, The Red House has an ever-rotating cast of elderly diners sitting outside, observing the comings and goings of the bustling city square as they idly chat for hours over appetizers and drinks. The restaurant staff embraces these loitering patrons, entertaining their rambling stories and odd requests.

On my first visit, made with my father and grandfather, our waiter enthusiastically commented on the presence of “three generations at one table,” saying he was thrilled to serve such a group. During our most recent trip, the staff happily indulged my father’s questions about the complimentary dessert being offered, as he was trying to show my brother and I a specific variation of halva (semolina pudding) from his childhood. Unfortunately, they did not have halva that day, but they did have a vanilla version of μωσαϊκό (mosaiko), a dessert that my grandmother used to make that is one of my favorite cakes of all time.

It can be easy to see humanity as just a blip in the cosmic vastness of space and time — because it is. But dining in The Red House reminds me that our pasts, no matter how fleeting, are still significant. Sitting with three generations of my family inside a century-old building, in a city built around the ruins of an ancient civilization, it is impossible for me not to feel love for our brief, beautiful history.