Late last year, Costas Opa closed after 31 years keeping Fremont in spanikopeta and Greek potatoes. Sad. Seven months later the Ave mom-and-pop, the Continental, went dark after nearly 40 years serving moussaka lunches and feta omelet breakfasts to denizens of the U District. Super sad.

But the saddest hit me right in the tear ducts after I recommended the astonishing Panos Kleftiko Taverna to a friend. “Tried to go but couldn’t,” she reported back. “Closed.”

Here was the Facebook post:

PANOS KLEFTIKO WILL BE CLOSING THE DOORS ON SEPT 1ST 2013 AS WE SEARCHING FOR NEW HORIZONS. ON BEHALF MY SELF AND MY WIFE ALEXANDRA I WOULD LIKE TO PERSONALLY THANK EACH AND EVERY ONE OF OUR LOYAL FAMILY OF FRIEND AND CUSTOMERS FOR YOUR ENTHUSIASTIC SUPPORT OVER THE LAST SEVENTEEN WONDERFUL YEARS. YOU ARE THE ONES WHO MADE PANOS KLEFTIKO SUCH A SPECIAL PLACE. AND WE SINCERELY THANK YOU.  YIASSOU!!

At first I thought this might not be the real end: Panos Marinos and his wife had yearly closed the restaurant for a month every September to visit the Old Country, which for them was Marinos’ hometown of Nafplion, Greece. He would always come back refreshed and exhilarated, full of new ideas for dishes like garidhes meh feta, prawns baked in tomato-wine sauce with feta, or the lamb stew arni youvetsaki.

These were not the usual-suspect Greek dishes one would find in American versions of Greek restaurants; these were Greek dishes for Greeks, which Marinos and his crew would cook with care and present with zest. The last time I was there the place was packed and jumping, with Marinos roaming and pouring wine. The place felt like the kind of hole-in-the-wall one finds in cities more ethnically diverse than ours, with a cozy feeling wrought by wood-beamed ceilings, sweetly cheesy wall decor, low lights. I once went to a birthday party whose host had rented the whole place, charging Marinos to keep the crowd happy and not to let them leave hungry. Mission so accomplished.

Surely this bastion of life was not dead.

I called Marinos at home and got his wife. “It’s true, we’re closed,” she lamented. “We couldn’t afford to do it anymore.” The oldest story: increasing rent, landlord issues, declining numbers.

Could they resurface elsewhere? It’s a trick Marinos has pulled before, having opened and closed at least two precursors dating from the ‘80s before he settled into Kleftiko. “Uh…well…we don’t know yet.”

Didn't sound like no to me. Watch this space for signs of hope. Meanwhile, it’s worth asking why so many mom-and-pop joints of the Eastern Mediterranean persuasion are closing when higher-end versions of the same cuisine stand as one of the biggest trends of 2013.