Dining With the Greeks

“But his father was Greek” (Acts 16:1). I wonder if the apostle Timothy looked like the husky, black-haired waiter with a full beard in the restaurant where Laurence and I dine alone among the Greeks. It is said that the Greeks are fickle, petty, partisan, passionate, and competitive.

The blue and white of the Greek flag are mirrored in the colors of the restaurant with blue trim and beams, white walls, and off white vintage lace curtains. There’s a worn wood floor, white tablecloths, and a screen showing pictures of Greece. The Greek mother and restaurant owner moves between tables, visiting with the diners or she stands quietly to the side observing. Around her neck is a chain with a gold cross. The cross on the Greek flag symbolizes Christianity. (1 Corinthians 1:24, “But unto them which are called, both Jews and Greeks.”)

We begin with warm pita and an olive oil dip. So satisfying! Laurence orders the moussaka and I ask for a gyro. Moussaka is to the Greek what lasagna is to Italians. It’s a rich tomato meat sauce layered with eggplant and potato and topped with a thick layer of sauce. My first bite of the lamb and beef gyro amazes me (not being such a meat fan), and I tell Laurence, “You have to try this” as I drop some of the slivered meat onto his plate.

Long tables fill with elderly looking Greeks. (Well, they might be our age, but they look older. 😊) The noise level rises. The Timothy-looking waiter hugs the ladies. The man across from us greets everyone that comes in as if he/she is a good friend. He steps over to us and says, “I’ve had a heart transplant. I’m 69, but my heart is 32.”

The waitress is too harried to bring our bill, but finally gets it to us. Laurence pays, and then we step across to where the man with a young heart sits. We visit with his table of people about the restaurants in Elmhurst, the food, and about friendships. The man tells us this large group (maybe 50 people) gathers here every other week. “You could give me your number and join us.”

It’s tempting to join the Greeks. We would not have to dine alone. But we also want to dine with the Uzbeks, the Indians, Colombians, Japanese, Italians, etc.

We walked from the restaurant into the quiet of the city. “That was an experience,” I said to Laurence.

“Was it a good one?” asked the Greek on the sidewalk.”

“Yes,” I replied.

Berniece with input from Laurence 11/2/2023