My first blog post for The Tab will be up soon, I'll post it on here as well. It obvs needed to be edited etc, so it's a day behind. I'm now in Skopje, which apparently gets to 53 degrees during the day, and is an ugly communist wreck, so I'm getting the hell out of here asap to Lake Ohrid for a couple of days. After that, The Tab article will ask you to vote on what next. :)
Monday 8 August 2011
Thursday 4 August 2011
My Travels in Your Hands: Get the fear, Raki's here
As previously noted, Greeek food is not one of the world's great cuisines. A focus on oil, deep frying and an overrealiance on meat means you have to work hard not just to eat well, but to not get a Greek man's gut whilst at it. Their alcohol however, is another story.
Whilst the local beer (I favour Mythos) isn't going to win any prizes, their wine totally rocks. Everyone makes their own, so it's mostly like an old boyfriend of mine: young, sweet and a bit wet.
But better than that is the hard stuff. My Dad makes friends with waiters, it's his thing, I don't know, and so at the end of each meal a selection of local firewater comes to the table. One taverna insisted on the lethal Ouzo for the boys, and Kitron for the girls. Kitron is, as it sounds, lemony, but as far as I can tell is made from pressing the leaves of an etrog. (Non Jews - an etrog looks like a big lemon, and is used as a symbol in a harvest festival, here's the wiki page).
But tonight, now that my friend Gabi has arrived, our weapon of choice is Raki. It's a bit like Ouzo or Pastis: aniseedy, and strong as hell. Because we're... reckless? Stupid? We have bought an unmarked, homemade bottle of the stuff from the local shop. We're scared, very scared. Please witness:
Will let you know how my head feels in the morning.
Whilst the local beer (I favour Mythos) isn't going to win any prizes, their wine totally rocks. Everyone makes their own, so it's mostly like an old boyfriend of mine: young, sweet and a bit wet.
But better than that is the hard stuff. My Dad makes friends with waiters, it's his thing, I don't know, and so at the end of each meal a selection of local firewater comes to the table. One taverna insisted on the lethal Ouzo for the boys, and Kitron for the girls. Kitron is, as it sounds, lemony, but as far as I can tell is made from pressing the leaves of an etrog. (Non Jews - an etrog looks like a big lemon, and is used as a symbol in a harvest festival, here's the wiki page).
But tonight, now that my friend Gabi has arrived, our weapon of choice is Raki. It's a bit like Ouzo or Pastis: aniseedy, and strong as hell. Because we're... reckless? Stupid? We have bought an unmarked, homemade bottle of the stuff from the local shop. We're scared, very scared. Please witness:
Will let you know how my head feels in the morning.
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