Of Cucumbers, Smelt and Miracles

I had had a love-hate relationship with cucumbers for as long as I can remember: I loved to hate them. I often joked that I couldn't stand to be in the same room with a cucumber. Ha Ha. Ha. 

My antipathy probably dates to when I got married. This vegetable had never been served on a plate before me - to my recollection - until then. I am pretty sure that this fact is attributable to my father who no doubt despised them. He had a somewhat limited palate. Even though he was raised on a fruit farm, he never ate cherry pie (!) until he was in the army. 

My former wife, however, loved English cucumbers. They were introduced to my environment and, truth be told, I somehow felt inferior because I didn't like them. My antipathy only deepened.

All that changed a few months ago during our European trip. On our first night in Athens, a miracle happened: I ate cucumbers (!) ... in a Greek salad. (My children will appreciate the significance of this event.) And they weren’t bad. The miracle occurred just down the street from our hotel (see picture below). We headed out that evening for something to eat after having cocktails in our room. We asked the front desk clerk if he could recommend a place that was close by, somewhere where we could get a salad.

He sent us to a small taverna half a block away. Between the hotel and the taverna, however, was another small restaurant on the other side of the street. A man whom we assumed to be the proprietor tried to get us to eat at his place, but we went with the desk clerk’s recommendation. We would later learn how displeased the man was with our decision.

Meanwhile, we arrived at the other place and sat down at a small table on the sidewalk. As far as I recall, we were the only customers there; but perhaps it was early by Athenian standards. 

There were no English menus. In fact, there were no menus. Mark told the man we wanted a Greek salad. He nodded in recognition, but waited while we told him what else we wanted. Seeing no response forthcoming, he took the initiative and started questioning. “Fish? Meat?” Somehow or other, Mark communicated that we’d like fish. As the man walked away into the bowels of the restaurant, I asked Mark what kind of fish we were getting. His response: “I don’t know.”

Mark went down the following morning and took this picture of our taverna and its proprietor (on the right).

Shortly, we were presented with a standard Greek salad: tomatoes, red onions, feta cheese and … cucumbers (see lead photo). The miracle likely would not have happened had I not had a stiff cocktail beforehand. I said, "What the hell," and started eating, biting into a cucumber. I waited for the retching to start, but it didn’t. In fact, the cucumber didn’t taste too bad. I had another piece. No bile rising. Hmmm. I felt a small stirring of victory and pride in myself for having ventured where I had never ventured before.

Then the fish arrived. Sardines. Or at least that's what I thought at the time. I learned later that they were smelt, or marithes in Greek (also spelled "marines). Breaded and fried. It was time for the second miracle.

I don’t believe I had ever eaten a sardine before. (This is what was going on in my head at the time, but I would have felt the same way about smelt.) In fact, I’m positive I had not – unless it was camouflaged in something else. I’m also positive I could not have eaten those fishies had I been cold sober at the time. As it was, I plunged in with gusto, and I loved them! I commented to Mark at one point that eating them was kind of like eating French fries. As I looked at the picture later I wonder whether I could do it sober. That will be my next challenge, one I hope to take up in September when we plan to return to Greece.

Of course, I could try making them at home. Has anyone out there every tried? There looks to be a simple authentic recipe here from the Greek Islands restaurant in Chicago, billed as "America's Most Popular Greek Restaurant." As I write this, however, I have no idea if one can purchase smelt in Salt Lake City. I've never looked.

I did just discover, however, that this dish is served at Aristo's in Salt Lake City, which according to their website has been voted one of the top 100 Greek restaurants in the country. Anyone care to comment if they've eaten there? 

Fried smelt, here we come!