VittlesVamp

The Geek & The Greek

Am I talking about some hot hipster Greek spot in Astoria? Not so much. In fact, not at all.

I'm referring to a geek-fest in Oracle, Arizona with my archaeologically-inclined pal Kristin, who just happens to live in Astoria when she's not on the road being all science-like.

We were total nerds in Oracle, living the dream as we toured Biosphere 2, the oft-mocked, faux space colony at the foothills of the Santa Catalina Mountains. Couldn't help but gawk at the Dharma-like compound, wondering if it might've provided some of the inspiration for "Lost." It certainly looked like a 1970's futuristic fantasy. Got to say that the self-sustaining rain forest and desert ecosystems were kind of amazing, as were the two "lungs" that supply the structure's H2O. And then there was the hatch...

Once we had gotten our dork on, we found ourselves a bit peckish.

Where to go?

Kristin led us to a Northwest Tuscon shopping center with a restaurant named It's Greek To Me.

I was incredulous. You leave Astoria to visit Arizona and you go for Greek instead of Southwestern? She nodded. We sat. She ordered with confidence.

And then the food arrived. A Mediterranean mixed platter of major proportions, sporting Tzatziki, Eggplant Spread, Hummus, Taramosalata, Dolmathes, Roasted Red Peppers, Feta cheese, and Kalamata olives, and warm slices of Pita.

Heaven. Greek heaven. Greek heaven in Tuscon.

And truth be told, the Southwestern I tried in the area was fairly feh.

I'll head on the subway to Brooklyn's Sunset Park when I need an authentic taco fix. But, dang if I didn't wish that the subway could take me to Tuscon the next time I need a Tzaziki and Dolmathes fix.

Who knew?

Little Fish, Big Flavor

I don't understand people who order a Caesar Salad and ask to "hold the anchovies."

Well, at least it leaves more of these wee pungent fishies for me!

I love 'em. I mince them up and add them into tomato sauce for a hint of complex saltiness that takes the red gravy to another level. I toast slices of baguette, slather with good butter and lay a couple of anchovies atop, for the perfect nibble with wine. Sometimes, I'll chop them up and saute in olive oil with cauliflower florets and red onion, tossing the mixture with a bit of pasta, fresh rosemary and grated Parmesan. For a special treat, I'll eat white anchovies bathed in vinegar (better known as Boquerones) on their lonesome, downing them one after the other with toothpick in hand. And, once in a while, I'll even have them on a pizza.

So, disparage the anchovy if you must. But these tiny fish are a culinary wonder. Brackish, beautiful and altogether bad-ass!