JOST A MON

The idle ramblings of a Jack of some trades, Master of none

In Matilde Asensi's nonsensical novel (The Last Cato) of the search for the stolen remnants of the True Cross, the protagonists, a Swiss Guard, a Coptic archaeologist, and an uptight Sicilian nun stop for a bit of food en route to their latest test.
We were invited to a magnificent lunch in the hotel banquet room. I was like a kid when it came to the taramosalata and the mousaka, the souvlakia with tzatziki - small pieces of roasted pork seasoned with lemon, herbs, and olive oil, accompanied by the famous sauce made with yogurt, pepper, garlic, and mint - and the original kleftico. Especially delicious were the incomparable Greek breads made with raisins, spices, greens, olives, or cheeses. For dessert, a little freska frouta. Who could ask for anything more? Mediterranean cuisine is the best in the world. Farag proved that by eating enough for three or four people.

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