The Cure For Everything Is Salt …
… tears, sweat, and the sea. (Dinesen)
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Travelogue: Corfu, Greece, Friday, 2 September 2011
8 September 2011
We wandered through the old town until we thought it was time for lunch. We tried to get seated at 11:15 a.m. at an open-air restaurant in a private courtyard off of one of the main streets in Old Town, but the owner waved us off. So we wandered down to a nearby cafe for a couple of Coronas and snacks.
We returned to restaurant at noon, just as the owner was returning from the market with plastic bags full of fresh vegetables in each of his hands. He nodded to us, so we sat down. A younger woman, presumably his daughter, came out to take our order: feta, olives, tzakziki, and a pitcher of local red wine to start, followed by the special mixed grill.
The meal was the essence of every romantic dream I’ve had about Mediterranean food: the feta, sharp and rich and fresh, the black olives, briny, and the wine light enough that Peter and I thought we could spend the entire day drinking it. The grill was a tower of pork. lamb, beef, sausages, and chicken served on a bed of crispy fries with fresh lemon and parsley. The owner smiled and told us to take our time. Bellissimo.
