I would have marked that big fat greek holiday on my calendar long ago, if only I had known there would have been whole carcasses of meat roasting in a very nearby adams morgan alley...I would have arrived on time! My roommate and i dragged a case of miller high life to an alley party and was not fully prepared for what we came upon. There were perplexed eyes on our group, neighbors who were parking their cars or bringing out their garbage, stalling, staring, wondering what kind of animal was slowly rotating and smoldering, inches beyond their back fences. I didn’t know you could get away with that these days.
But it was a festive event, children running around, people shouting "hopa!" eating grape leaves, baklava, and we made it complete with alley frisbee, sparks and chardonnay, miller high life mixed with sparks....I really do love traditions though, such as the red egg smashing, the singing, the tzatsiki! oh, and the MEAT. My stomach is still relishing the bits of skin and gristle I picked off of this guy, who looked more like a greyhound than a lamb:
the caption to this photo should read "blllwwwweeeaaaarrrrrrggggggghhhh"
I heard one kid mutter: “poor santa’s little helper.”I have always advocated that you can really only appreciate your meal if you watch it slow roast over a fire, dousing it intermittently with liquid to keep it nice and moist, smelling the fat sizzle onto hot coals...And if it still has eyeballs, tongue and teeth, well even better.
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