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Memories on a plate

The other day, during one of the seemingly endless snowstorms of the past few weeks, I needed to make something for dinner.  I really only have a few things I make for dinner over and over, and we had either made all of them recently or I didn't have the ingredients (and I wasn't about to go into the storm to get them).  I had a frozen pork tenderloin, but even though my dad would shovel a path to the grill in the winter I really didn't want to grill it.  My usual rub of thyme, sage and salt didn't sound good to me.  Plus the meat was still frozen and I wanted to cut it smaller to speed up cooking.

I was trying to remember things that my kids liked to eat when they were younger when I remembered gyros and how much Amanda used to like the meat.  I couldn't make gyros, but I found a recipe for souvlaki which consisted of marinating the meat in lemon juice, olive oil, garlic and thyme.

We made it and when I put a bit in my mouth the juices and the crispness brought me back to my trip to Athens over spring break when I was studying abroad.  I was walking through the market after spending the morning at the Parthenon.  I had bought a pair of sandals and a t-shirt for a souvenir and I was looking for things for other family members.  The souvlaki I had that day is still a highlight from my trip, along with the tiramisu we had at a hole-in-the-wall Hungarian restaurant a few days later.  I can still taste it, and the pork I made a few days ago was pretty close to being as good.

We also made pita bread.  Since the oven was being used for roasting cauliflower, we cooked it in more olive oil on the stove.  It reminded me of when my mom made pita bread when I was growing up--back when you had to go to the co-op to find such an exotic bread.  We told my grandfather about how to make it and he would not believe that you only used one flat round of dough---he was absolutely convinced that you had to use two rounds of dough to make the pocket.  So, right at the lake cabin, my mom made a batch for us.  We sat in front of the oven while they baked and watched through the window as they puffed up.

That was one of the things I loved about my grandfather---sometimes he wouldn't know something, but he was always ready to take action to find out the answer.  He was definitely not a Greek philosopher, satisfied with thinking about something to figure it out.  He liked to experience things to discover and understand.

Comments

Anonymous said…
Those are such nice memories. I remember the pita bread, but not the lake episode. That does sound like grandpa, though. And just earlier today I was remembering dad shoveling a path to the grill.

FNDP

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