I’ve always believed that Stina was more compelling as a creative Greek-centered exploration of Mediterranean cuisine than as a pizzeria. Chef-owner Bobby Saritsoglou clearly agrees. Yes, the Newbold restaurant makes some fine Italian-style pies and oval-shaped Turkish pides (try the housemade lamb merguez). But Saritsoglou removed “pizzeria” from the name recently because he wanted to highlight what else his wood-fired hearth has to offer.

The delicious lamb manti and the Spanish octopus — one of Philly’s most gorgeous octopus dishes — are good examples. Stina’s new taverna-style pikilia platter is another case in point. “Pikilia” is Greek for “variety” and, for $65 per person, your table is lavished with a family-style spread of dips (love the spicy tirokafteri whipped feta), fluffy fresh pita dusted with herbs, and a heaping platter of incredibly flavorful wood-roasted meats. Lamb chops scented with oregano and lemon zest. Souvlaki skewers of tender filet mignon. Char-kissed grape leaves stuffed with beef and rice. Pork gyro meat shaved thin and fragrant with rosemary, allspice, and bay. A snappy link of juicy loukaniko sausage. All of it comes over a mound of dilled rice, pickled green tomatoes (or in-season ramps), a charred long hot pepper, and a creamy brick of barrel-aged feta, just like the tavernas back in Thessaloniki where Saritsoglou still has family. Of course, Saritsoglou brings his own touch to this joyfully rustic and generous feast. There should be enough leftovers to savor it all again the next day, too. Stina, 1705 Snyder Ave., 215-337-3455, stinaphiladelphia.com

—Craig LaBan

Terminal D at Philadelphia International Airport used to be a sad strip of mall food with a perpetually understaffed Dunkin, an Auntie Anne’s whose pretzels are never quite warm enough, a Cava knockoff, and a couple of options for an aggressively overpriced burger. Now, however, there’s a single bright spot: A fast-casual version of Middle Child, in all its green-accented glory.

Make no mistake: The PHL outpost is more about capturing the essence of Matt Cahn’s original Washington Square West sandwich shop since the food is technically made by Jackmont Hospitality, an airport concessions company. But when I bit into my recreation of the Shopsin Club, the sandwich tasted like real restaurant food, not something I shoveled into my mouth to stave off hanger on a long-haul flight. It also was an accurate copy of the Shopsin, with slabs of turkey, bacon, sandwich-cut sweet pickles, avocado, and that tangy-yet-fruity cranberry miso mayo. The only different was the bread: Where regular Middle Child uses ciabatta, airport Middle Child opts for toasted pieces of Pullman. Middle Child (located in Terminal D), 8500 Essington Ave., middlechildphilly.com

— Beatrice Forman

Is that a ruby-toned pane of stained glass or the tuna usuzukuri at Zama? You’d be forgiven for thinking the former, as this perfectly glassy and flat square of tuna carpaccio is so visually arresting. It’s seasoned with truffle ponzu (which felt like an enjoyable throwback to the early 2000s); microgreens; soy-marinated wasabi; and a squiggle of spicy mayo. I had the dish as part of Zama’s $75 seven-course tasting menu, but it is also available a la carte for $22. Zama, 128 S. 19th St., 215-568-1027, zamaphilly.com

— Kiki Aranita

With a night to ourselves this week, my wife and I finally visited Amá, the contemporary Mexican restaurant under the El in Kensington from chef Frankie Ramirez. The menu was full of lesser-known Mexican delicacies and jewels of produce. Huitlacoche? Chapulines? Cured nopal? And that was just one dish.

We didn’t get too adventurous on our first visit, but everything was amazing. I started off with the El Chato cocktail, which tasted like boozy chocolate milk with a toasted coconut and fried onion rim that sounded strange but made it so much better. Our first order was the chips with six different salsas, because I can’t not get chips at a Mexican restaurant. The massive corn tostadas were fun to break up, though it was impossible to give each dip equal attention. The spicy salsa negra made from burnt habaneros was my favorite and so worth the burn.

Next came the huauzontle (also known as Aztec broccoli), which was fried in tempura with this Morita chile aioli that is probably the best thing I’ve ever dipped food into. Finally came the pollo a la leña, a heaping plate of juicy chicken that fell off the bone, was smothered in a mole-like sauce, and came with still-steaming tortillas. Amá, 101 W. Oxford St., 215-425-5880, amaphl.com

— Torin Sweeney