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Oh, the lemon guy is here. That’s Takis, walking in halfway through dinner service with a box of gleaming yellow citrus over one shoulder. The fruit ferryman is greeted by Theio Theo – Uncle Theo, your genial host – who ushers him into the kitchen. The lemons come from backyards around Melbourne.

Takis gets word when the trees are laden and the householders have surplus. You don’t have to sit for long at Theio Theo to realise why a steady supply of lemons is necessary.

There’s spritzy citrus wafting by as waiters move through the restaurant and every plate on every table seems to have a wedge of lemon tucked in among the food. Along with lemon, there’s salt, pepper, olive oil, sometimes a little oregano: these are the mainstay caresses for the simple but excellent food at this five-year-old Greek tavern.

This is a great place to come with a group: the set menu is a feast, there’s music and dancing on Friday nights, and kids are welcomed.

Simple rarely means easy: a minimal list of ingredients doesn’t account for the careful sourcing, well-judged charcoal cooking and extra pinch of love that goes into the dishes.

Black-eyed beans with spring onion, dill and vinegar are a hearty but jaunty pulse dish to mop up with a crusty roll. Horta – braised wild greens, maybe chicory, whatever’s good – are simply boiled and dressed.

Roasted eggplant, capsicum and zucchini are char-grilled to the perfect texture: tender but with a little bite.

Loukaniko is a pork and orange sausage, lightly smoked, grilled and served with, you guessed it, olive oil and lemon.

The seafood is excellent: apparently a two-year-old started bawling recently because grandpa ate the last piece of octopus.

Theo Poulakidas has a long history in food. Firstly in his native Pylos, in the Messinia region of southern Greece, and since 1998 in Melbourne. The olive oil used in his restaurant is from his home patch. There’s Greek wine, too (and ouzo and tsipouro, the Greek version of grappa), but Theo’s wife Stella also stocks many Australian wines because she thinks they match beautifully with the cuisine.

Theio Theo is spacious and comfortable, with dark blue walls that soothe rather than dazzle like the piercing blue and white of many Greek eateries. Bentwood bistro chairs and paper over linen-clothed tables offer an approachable sense of occasion.

This is a great place to come with a group: the set menu is a feast, there’s music and dancing on Friday nights, and kids are welcomed.

Long-time chef Manos Krassadakis handles most of the cooking but Uncle Theo takes care of a few passion projects.

It’s his deft digits that roll the baklava fingers and he is the Greek god of galaktoboureko, the custard and filo dessert that wobbles delectably as it’s carried from kitchen to table. Rare leftovers are given away to staff or customers. Like everything here, it’s simple – just sugar, milk, eggs, corn flour, filo – but infused with care and pride.