Saturday, March 28, 2015


I went out last night with my grandfather.  We went to one of his favorite restaurants, Mykonos in Rockville.  The manager always remembers us, and greets us warmly--this time with some ancient Greek wisdom.

The food is always delicious. The saganaki--the flaming fried cheese was delicious.  The bread was warm and crusty and dipped wonderfully in the lemon and spice olive oil.

The manager brought us hot delicious spanikopita right out of the oven.

Poppy always gets the bronzino, a giant Mediterranean fish of flaky white meat.  I ate the spiced eggplant imam baildi, grape-leaved dolmades and delicious mushrooms stuffed with feta.

The manager brought us glikaki lil sweets of semolina cake oozing in honey and topped with vanilla ice cream as a treat.

I wish them happy independence day.  Quite an anniversary to celebrate liberation from the sichameni Turki.  I was perhaps the only one in the restaurant who wasn't Greek who bade such tidings.

The food was excellent, but the remembrance and warmth made it even more poignant.  I always find it moving when people in places that have a lot of turnover of customers, be it restaurants or hotels, remember me.  The warmth shown to my Grandfather and me made a nice night out even more special.

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