Greekfest

Greece is an interesting place. It's Europe, but it's not cultured in the same way as Italy or France. It has a beautiful Mediterranean climate, but it's islands are like barren rocky outcrops. The food is rustic and simple, not unlike much of it's populace. Though Greece may be the Mother of philosophy, the birthplace of a great civilization who gave us plays, math, political science and literature, she is sort of like an old crazy aunt. An old crazy Aunt who you've heard fantastic stories about, but knowing her as she is now, find hard to believe. "She was famous throughout the world for her genius, accomplishments and beauty? Aunt Helen?"
But there is something so alluring about Greece, about being in the warmth of it. There is something fulfilling about laying in the cradle of civilization and inhaling the herb infused air, absorbing the heat reflecting off the rocks, the vision of the horizon laid out beyond the endless sea that carried peoples from around the world to it's harbors. And when you drink pine flavored wine and eat fried balls of dough sprinkled with crushed walnuts and honey, it takes you back to that time.
That's why Nico and I love going to Greekfest.
It just so happens that there is an enormous, beautiful Greek church right up the hill from us. And they couldn't have picked a better weekend for their annual fundraiser.
They plan all year and have a marketplace, a small playground, vendors, dancing, singing, music and food, food, food.
Sure, Greece isn't known for it's great wines or phenomenal cuisine. It's hard to grow exceptional food on a rocky outcrop. But Greeks are like Cubans- they are resourceful people and do the best they can with what they have. extensive preparations and long cooking time can turn a few veggies, herbs and inexpensive meats into something magical. We had the most delicious keftethes (meatballs in rich tomato sauce) and Nico's favorite, pastitsio. I know pine resinated wine sounds icky, but every time I drink it (either in Greece or at Greekfest) it takes me back to my first meal in Greece, on a warm evening, under the lights of the acropolis. Besides, it just seems to go with rosemary and lamb. It tastes like the air in Greece.
We enjoyed our homecooked meal on paper plates in the company of at least a hundred other Greek loving people in their huge parish hall. While Zoe tried to get used to the strange flavors and smells of a foreign cuisine, Julian inhaled his portion then put his new walking skills to practice up and down the aisles to the delight and warm smiles of the other families.
After dinner, Julian ran around the playground, and Zoe found a group of other young children mesmerized by the talents of a balloon toy wrangler. Unbelievably, she sat, in a row of children waiting their turn to choose a balloon animal. And sat. And moved one seat down. Again. And again. And on and on and on for almost an hour. I AM SERIOUS. That was the best Elmo balloon she could have ever received. I would like to hire that guy so I can take a nap.
Then we bought a bowl of loukoumades (fried balls of dough bathed in honey and sprinkled with crushed nuts) and watched costumed dancers tiptoe and jump in a circle to traditional Greek music.
It was 85+ degrees in the evening, and the outdoor plaza overlooks half the bay and across to SF and the peninsula. We watched the stars twinkle way above the city lights and licked honey from our fingers. And as we walked uphill to our car, inhaling the perfumes of rosemary, pine and lamb, I remembered laying on a rocky hill, feeling the warm stones beneath me, and looking out over the deep blue horizon into antiquity.