Stumbled onto the meatfest called Greek Easter

 After eight years in the UK and one intermediate year, this is the first time in a long while that I have spent a bunch of food related holidays in all their glory and Greekedness. In case it has not been made clear, food is my main motivator for many celebrations. Considering my religious preoccupation is as much as my interest in Formula 1, the only way I would even acknowledge Easter is by indulging in traditional delicacies associated with it.

There are some commonalities we Greeks have with mainstream Easter; mainstream being the lame, Western version the rest of the world participates in. These commonalities consist mostly of chocolate eggs and bunnies, and actual eggs, dyed in abnormal egg colours as Christ himself would have wanted. I have heard that some other countries also favour lamb for Easter, but I am willing to bet most of them do not place a whole, skinned, innocent-looking baby lamb on a skewer over fire and attest children as grillers. We didn’t do that this year as Covid meant we couldn’t have enough people over for a whole lamb to be justified. That certainly didn’t stop us from actively stinking all our clothes with smoke, coal residue and fatty meat odours. But here is where Easter gets different for us Greeks. Supposedly, we have spent forty days abstaining from meat, dairy, eggs, and oil for about a week. Just before vegans declare this the best diet ever, we are still meant to eat seafood. Because, apparently, oil is higher up the food chain than seafood.  We also have numerous fish breaks during this forty days period, where fish is not just optional, but deep fried and mandatory. But I mean, if it is deep fried, need it be mandatory? And to further disappoint our vegan friends, this abstinence period is framed by an insane amount of meat, before and after. And the meat I refer to is far from grilled chicken.

Here is the items that make the Greek meat experience worth discussing. Mageiritsa, kokoretsi and gardouba. I will not stall any longer in revealing the main ingredient for all of these; intestines. And I mean, proper intestines. The organs poo goes through. I only eat two of the three and my main excuse for snobbing the third is that I adamantly believe that these foods can only be consumed under one condition; that you realise how tasty they are prior to finding out what they actually are. The reverse is not feasible. Mageiritsa is lettuce soup with anything internal you can think of; small intestine and liver is a must, our household adds lung to the mix and I have frequently heard of heart and stomach being welcome additions. Based on the previous rule I have mentioned, I have only tried our iteration and will keep it that way. And that, which I have described, is the soup. Imagine what is to come. Next up is kokoretsi, which again is a bunch of internal organs wrapped in small intestine and grilled. And as disgusting as that sounds, it is fucking delicious. And, I will argue, sustainable. If you are going to eat meat, you might as well make maximum use of a single animal. I don’t know if vegans will get behind me on this, but I think they should think it through. Last one is gardoumpa, which is the oven baked version of kokoretsi. And this is basically why my rule is pretentious; I have no credible reason not to eat this, but I won’t touch it for anything less that whatever Jeff Bezos’ wife got from the settlement.

The other element making this meatfest Greek to its core is probably the excess amount of side dishes. More meat, including sausages, kebabs, skewers, meatballs are a must. And because meat as a side of meat sounds a bit extreme, we make sure to have a few classic vegetarian sides as well. Bread, fries, tzatziki (come on, obviously), cheese, pies, salads and stuffed wine leaves. Because as I recall from my biology lessons at school, that is how nutrition works; every piece of fried lamb fat is cancelled by a cheese-filled pepper. Just when all this might begin to sound just a tad extreme, that is when desserts make their appearance. Sweet brioche, milk chocolate based pasties (which we have been supposedly fasting for all this time), baklavas and crème patisserie. And because we don’t want to leave anything to chance, including embolisms, we need to be drinking alcohol throughout this suicide mission. And Easter is ageless; there is no such thing as underage drinking during Easter.

I might sound dismissive but in all honesty, I am so happy to have been here for all these traditional holidays with all their adjacent foods. And all I have to do is eat broccoli for a couple of weeks to counteract these effects on my cholesterol. And you now what? It is worth it. One thing is for sure; I don’t think I’ll be a vegan anytime soon if I am that comfortable with the word ‘intestine’ being written so many times in a non-medical text.