Owner Yiannis Kagouros claims to have "trained in the best school there is." The esteemed education facility to which he is referring, as you no doubt have guessed, is his Grandma Yia Yia's kitchen. Not surprisingly, a sense of family permeates the mom-and-pop style of the restaurant's Greek cuisine and ambiance. Appetizers include traditional spanakopita, hummus, and taramosalata, all fresh and sassily spiced ($4.50 to $6.50). But the octopus spiked with oregano vinaigrette; flambéed cheese saganaki; and Greek sausage tossed in caramelized onions and peppers ($7.95 to $8.95) are what really engage one's Aegean yearnings. House specialties are prepared with more aplomb than the competition's, especially the grilled lamb chops in the classic Greek marinade of olive oil, lemon juice, and oregano. Same simple and scrumptious treatment is afforded the grilled whole snapper, which is plucked from a pristine ice display. Some main courses, like a textbook ground-beef-and-macaroni pastitsio, are less than $10; most others are less than $20. Another reason we like this place: Desserts are not just afterthoughts. Don't believe us? Witness the galactobourico, a creamy custard rolled in phyllo, dipped in honey, and served mellifluously warm. Mykonos's charm lies in its softly muraled walls, amiable staff, and consistently solid renditions of characteristic Greek cuisine, not on crashing plates, confetti showers, and tabletop dancing -- though live entertainment and a high-spirited clientele ensures that dining here is not dull, either. Wines and beers from Greece no doubt aid in fueling that ebullience. It seems the only thing Mykonos is lacking is Grandma Yia Yia.