Dr. Strangreek or: How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love Tomatoes

Clemenceau once said "Lunch is too important to leave to the Chefs."

He may also have said that "Financial matters are far too important to leave to the Greeks." We certainly have been bombarded over the past months with the impending Greek debt crisis that, as appears at the moment, has been kicked down the road a few more years as the Greeks try to implement austerity goals imposed by the Germans they have already failed to meet one or two times before. I have struggled to make sense out of the fear of Greece pulling out of the Eurozone that has caused the Heiress (yes, I am still seeing her occasionally) and others in the investment class to be all a twitter about the fluctuations in their IRA accounts. The fear mongers had us, and even those of us of meager wealth, all living in fear of something called the "ripple effect" that could supposedly be caused by a very small economy like Greece collapsing. Remember Cyprus not too long ago? I was beginning to wonder what kind of mischief the high-spending socialist Greeks were going to get into and how it was going to affect us here behind the safety of the bypass in the Gump.

After intensive study I came to some tentative conclusions. First, the Greeks have a social security system that is unsustainable (I mean worse than ours). Retirement at 55? Really? Second, way too many of the Greeks work for the government and all of them belong to a union. Third, they have 25% unemployment despite that (or because of it). So I can tell you I have realized that the Greeks as a nation are pretty bad at running a government or paying their bills. They compounded their problems when they made some recent bad choices in a socialist leader and an "OXI" (No) vote as to a bailout plan (and then got stuck with a deal that was worse). Damn Germans.

But there is one thing I know for sure about the Greeks: They have some of the best food in the world.  Exhibit A is yours truly. Let me explain.

Since I was a boy in Ireland and until May 2015 (a span of about 60 years) I had never NEVER ever even once tasted or eaten a raw tomato. Ketchup and salsa was fine, but a sliced or cubed tomato was consistently removed from every hamburger or salad presented to me by the chefs of Dublin or the Gump. I was Chase "Hold the Tomatoes" Allpots. I know some of you understand where I was on the question of tomatoes.  I see you picking them off your sandwiches.

So what changed?

The answer is: Greece.  More specifically, the Greek salad as served in Athens and Thessaloniki, Greece.

You see the Heiress--who is one-quarter Greek--decreed that I could accompany her in May 2015 to a Papanikolau family reunion in Palouri, Greece (on the Kassandra Peninsula) where she would meet her cousins for the first time and introduce me as her "male friend" or 'fi le mou' in Greek. Since I had never been to Greece, we were flying first class and, most importantly, she was paying for everything, I gracefully accepted. Bait a trap with a free trip to Greece with a handsome woman and you will catch ole Chase every time.

After arriving in Athens and before departing by train to Thessaloniki, we spent a few days at the Hotel Electra (separate rooms of course) near Syntagma Square where the Greek Parliament meets and where you saw all the demonstrations on CNN. While the Heiress was off shopping in the Plaka district under the Acropolis, I was left to my own devices to stroll up and down Ermou Street where during lunch time I took a turn over to Metropoleos Street and came upon a restaurant on Monastiraki Square named Thanassis. There, for some unexplained reason I ordered the same salad I saw on a table next to me oddly called a "Greek" salad.

This is what a Greek salad looks like.

The observant of you will immediately note the lack of any lettuce whatsoever. And that block of white stuff sprinkled with olive oil and spices is feta or goat cheese. No thousand island or blue cheese dressing, just olive oil and vinegar sprinkled over tomatoes, peppers, olives, cucumbers and onions.  Why I decided to eat all of it cannot be explained any more than one can explain why the Greeks think other countries should continue to pay them to retire early.  But I did eat the tomatoes along with everything else and proceeded to fall in LOVE with tomatoes and Greek salads. On my birthday I had another salad in Athens while the house band played "Sweet Home Alabama" on their Bouzouki's.

Another Greek salad with a jug of wine. Opa!

My obsession with Greek salads exceeded my desire to own one of their little goats. Thankfully, I was not allowed to bring one home. Also, thankfully, my new found love of tomatoes followed me home to the states after the Athens ATMs stopped giving the Heiress her Euros.

My Big Fat Greek Adventure and the Greek crisis is over and my life is changed: I have learned to stop worrying about Greece and love tomatoes. Like Dr. Strangelove, who was German, learned to love the bomb.

For more Greek food porn check out: Our Big Fab Greek Adventure.