R pointed out a small Greek restaurant in Tolcross to me the other day - "I've been thinking we should go there together," she said. Whether this suggestion was made on the grounds that my vague Greek heritage would have caused me to feel a terrible longing for some feta, or simply because R thought 'My Big Fat Greek Restaurant' looked pleasant, is irrelevant now. What matters is that spurred on by this misunderstanding the girls at Melville Terrace decided it would be best to prepare something Hellenic just in case I really was forgetting my roots.
C and I arrived with a dessert in tow, and the door buzzer was answered by what sounded like a Greek island grandmother. Up the stairs and into a dimly lit taverna replica, the only thing lacking was a sea breeze and a glimpse of the small grandmother topping and tailing okra at the back of the kitchen.
Plates of taramasalata and tzatziki adorned the table, with a pile of home-baked pitta breads (!) for dipping. Alongside this we ate grilled aubergine-wrapped parcels of feta and tomato or red pepper, all made by R. Perhaps now she and I will have to try the local Greek joint if only to compare with her own triumphant spread. The dessert I had brought was from a favourite recipe of my mum: spicy greek yoghurt cake. Despite for some reason completely overflowing in our oven, causing quite a bit of mess, it is a great cake made with lots of dark brown sugar, cinnamon and allspice and a chewy dessicated coconut topping. To the readers at Melville Terrace, let us make Greek Night a regular happening. I'm starting to feel a craving for fried cheese...
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