GREEK MEAT

Lauren Gerrie

Exploring through a season adrift

countries and oceans

Hillsides and ports

Small towns and big cities

The soul of this place

Laced with aromatics and fats

Greece, summer’s last stop

Miran Pastourma

Stonesthrow from Varvakios Central Market

Nestled amongst spice shops and restaurant supplies

Dangling sausages in deep reds and browns

Noosed garlics and fettered pork legs

Ceiling decor with a concentrated musk of meat

Two men, Armenian they declare

A duo of house specialties one from each set of hands

Dark and robust mimicking the look of Morcia

Air cured veal enriched with cumin, sumac, garlic, and cinnamon

A chewy but creamy bite

Once the sheath is torn away

Soutzouki coats and lingers on the tongue

Certainly not Katz’s

Once camel now beef

Dry aged then aged again in a paste redolent of spice and earth

Fenugreek, red pepper flakes, crushed garlic

Pastourma, the evil twin of Pastrami

And I love her dearly

A labyrinth of ruined streets and slippery stone paths

Jasmine lined walls marked by anarchist art

Dwarfed by neighboring tourist traps

Tsikaboom… TsikaBOOM...TSIKABOOM!!!!

A temptress with the promise of a grill

Chunks of fatty crispy skinned rooster

Mutton patties glistening in juices

Both spiked with fresh and dried herbs

Laying in beds of olive oil drenched tomatoes and onions

Pillowy pita charred to perfection

A goodnight kiss from a city not soon forgotten