Good conversation improves the taste of food, and nowhere is this more true than in a Greek taverna. Greeks are a gregarious and garrulous lot, a tribe of whom any four members usually represent eight political parties, and who, when asked any single question, will offer at least nine opposing responses. When I was a kid, I remember getting into a heated political discussion with my Greek aunt, after which I apologized for arguing. "Don't be silly," she said. "We weren't arguing. We were talking."

With that in mind, the extensive chin-wagging might have been the reason my recent meal at Kavala was so enjoyable, although I suspect it also had something to do with the food and service. A reviewer's secret: Normally I dine in a small group of just two or three. At Kavala I was in a party of five, and there was some kind of talking going on that night.

This is encouraged by the atmosphere. Kavala is several steps above the kind of half-clean ouzeria you'd find on the side of the road in Thebes, but it's still highly comfortable and casual, with nicely designed wooden chairs and tables and imitation Minoan murals on the wall. Parties who come here tend to linger and enjoy themselves, ordering multiple bottles of wine and talking away as they slowly snack and chat.

Not that the food isn't worth eating straightaway. Starters include the usual mix of Greek dips and bites. If you're going to order more than one or two, try the copious mezedes plate, which has scoops of thick tzatziki, freshly made with Greek yogurt, and a pink salty taramosalata, or cod roe salad — the best I've had outside of Greece — accompanied by creamy eggplant spread, a few Kalamata olives and skordalia, a mild garlic dip. The menu says it's for two, but that would be most of a meal. With a few slices of the thick housemade bread, ours was an adequate starter for four full diners and one I'll-just-have-a-bite.

Main courses include classic taverna fare like meat on a grill, meat on a spit and baked classics. Among those, the moussaka is surprisingly light: a large, lasagnalike cube of grilled eggplant and potato slices covered with ground meat and topped with bechamel sauce. Kavala adds kaseri cheese to the bechamel, a hard goat's milk cheese akin to pecorino, which gives the topping extra bite.

The menu is also strong on seafood, though the recipes are way beyond fillets. The stuffed calamari is a good example: a single good-sized squid filled with feta cheese, tomatoes and dill and baked. It's terribly tender for calamari, with a refreshing sour bite from the cheese.

Another good dish is the mpriami, a baked mix of green beans, tomatoes, potatoes, eggplant and beef in an earthenware pot, creating a ratatouille-esque stew. It's excellent. But the best baked meal here is the oven-baked lamb with eggplant. First the meat is boiled gently for several hours. The thin eggplant slices, meanwhile, are deep-fried. After the lamb is done, the meat is wrapped up like a Christmas present inside the eggplant and the whole thing is baked for a few minutes until it's elegant and buttery, pure in scent and flavor, with none of the gaminess of mutton.

Desserts, to judge by the baklava and the kadaifi, are awesome, just like at home. This is because Kavala is a family affair: While Sofia Pataridou runs the front of house and her husband Jannis Asarlidis is responsible for the savory dishes, the desserts are made by Olga Pataridou, Sofia's mother. Mr. Asarlidis gets additional help in the kitchen from Dimitris Koursaris, a chef from Corfu.

That's a lot of Greekness, and the hellenic touch extends to the wine list. With the lamb and beef, a bold, zinfandel-like red such as Boutari's Naoussa, made with xinomavro, pairs perfectly and is nicely priced at 400 Kč ($17.30). Also good is the 2001 Leontios Nemea from Achaia, a deep dry red made from the agiorgitiko grape with the taste of ripe cherries and fragrant grassy and minty notes.