FullSizeRenderIt’s Greek To Me

When in Greece—or any country for that matter—I try to eat as I think the locals do. Sometimes with interesting results.

Scene: Lunch with Husband at a small café off the tourist beaten path. (I would soon learn how far off.)

Waiter (after taking Husband’s order of mussels and bread): “What would you like, Madam?”

Me: “A Greek salad, please.” (Like croissants in Paris, hummus in Turkey, and barbeque in the American South, Greek salads from the source are ten notches above ones made anywhere else in the world.)

Waiter: “And what kind of salad?”

Me (speaking a little louder although I was sure he’d heard me): “Greek, please.”

The waiter tapped his pen impatiently against his order pad. “Madam, we are in Greece. Our salads are made here, in the restaurant, in Greece. So they are all Greek salads. What would you like in your salad?”

I reeled off what I’ve always thought of as the ingredients in a classic Greek salad. “Tomato … feta … olive … red onion … cucumber.”

Waiter: “Thank you, madam.” He scribbled on his pad and repeated our order back to us. “One small bowl of mussels, one side of bread, and one salad, American style.”