The Annual Greek Festival, a Favorite Summer Tradition

I met Maria at auditions for the school play in my Freshman year of high school.  She got a small role and we both volunteered for make-up crew.  The school was doing Dracula so we were excited with the ghoulish creativity we could discover.  We discovered we liked the new wave of British music in the early and mid 80s - Duran Duran, Sting,  New Order, as well as a deep respect for Queen, Pink Floyd, and the 80's U2.  Bod Geldof was our hero; the founder of Band Aid and Live Aid.  We both read his autobiography.  We became good friends quite quickly.

She lived close, so we carpooled for rehearsals.  I'll never forget the first time I was invited into Maria's home.  I knocked on her back door.  Her father opened the door with one hand and held a long, thin, meat carver's knife in the other.  He only had to lean down and over a few inches from where he was in the kitchen to the back door.  He was slicing meat off a large bone which I'd never seen before.

As he opened the door to let me in I said hello.  With a straight, but sincere face, wide eyes and friendly voice, he held out his knife straight to my face with a few chunks of meat, which did smell delicious, and said,

"You like lamb?  Taste.  It's good."

How could I refuse, especially with a knife in front of my face?

Actually, I wasn't that intimidated, with the lamb or Maria's father, especially with his welcoming smile and wide eyes. I  knew I was going to taste something wonderful.  I instantly loved lamb and Greek hospitality.  It reminded me much of the bare-bones sincere hospitality my family gave to long time friends.  Later in high school, her sister and my brother joined the theatre, music and arts crowd as well.  We, with a handful of others backstage became a tight group, often hanging at our house or Maria's house discussing the arts.

Our two high school friends with their kind father, a friend of theirs on Crete, and their beautiful, kind, mother, who makes the best baklava, pastisio and stuffed zucchini blossoms. 2001

Through the years I remember when their mother was making a kitchen full of pans of baklava for the Festival: light, flaky phillo pastry with a walnut and honey filling for the annual festival on Memorial Day Weekend.  I fondly remember helping my friends and their parents pass trunk loads of baklava into the large kitchen packed with volunteers and trays of other Greek delights the night before.

My brother, our group of theatre friends and I enjoyed when Maria and Tina performed their traditional dances they've learned the through their church.  We'd cheer them on, get a juicy grilled souvlaki, sit on the steps of the church and wait until the parents have had their time socializing.  Souvlaki is a skewer  of chunks of pork marinated in lemon, garlic and oregano, grilled to perfection, served on a lightly grilled pita with onions, tomatoes, and tzatziki sauce (yogurt, cucumbers, garlic, lemon and dill).  My husband now looks forward to at least two at the festival and two to take home each year.

Souvlaki: marinated chunks of pork, onions, tomatoes and tzaziki sauce on the side

TheGreek Fests have not been the same without my close high school friends.  The family has since moved back to Crete and are all doing well.  I haven't been able to visit them since October of 2001, so it's been too long.

Greek dancers, like our friends used to do
Click here for a video of the dance!

Until I can see them again someday I make it a point of going to the Greek Fest each year.  I'm happy to say I've shared my tradition with my husband and other friends and family through the years.  I need my Greek food fix, Greek music and dance, and the chance to spend time with family and friends, new and old.

Cousins enjoying gyros

Lots of folks at this Cleveland tradition.  During the festival, everyone is Greek.

The end of one of the indoor food lines

More people!

Not the best photo of the Cleveland Skyline from their parking lot, but you get the idea.

My friends' family's village on Crete.  Accessible only by ferry, as there are no roads or cars in this remote area. 1997

My friend and her grandpa on Crete. 1997

My friend relaxing with a frappe. Crete 1997

My Sister's Grilled Pork Chops n' Peaches

My sister-in-law did it again.  She made another amazing meal.  She's quite the home chef herself.  Her talents are attributed to her fine dining and catering background as well as her family's long line of culinary talent.  She has the beat on the latest modern cuisine with a keen memory of tried and true family traditions.

She really outdid herself for our father's birthday.

I added in my baked beans by the request of my beloved new sister.  She was in charge of the well-balanced menu, so it was flattering that she had asked for one of my recipes to marry into the meal.

Here is the wonderful menu and photos:

Clockwise: Berkshire pork chop with Dijon sauce, grilled peach, grilled bratwurst with sauerkraut, green beans with Dijon and shallots, potato salad, baked beans, raspberry lemonade

Grilled Chops with Sister's Dijon Sauce

Peaches on the grill

The Spread

Our appetizer: my mom's Italian bruchetta dip, served in a beautiful set which was a gift from my new sister, (recipe coming soon)

Mega Fajita Value

Wow! We had some tasty fajitas for an incredible value.

We LOVE Mexican food.  We've loved it before our only trip to Cozumel a few years ago and we now love it even more.  Fortunately we have several excellent Mexican restaurants close by.  One offers a Deluxe Fajita for Two for $18.95, about $20 with tax.

I have never seen a larger fajita skillet.  It was like a large pizza pan.  Fajitas for two?  More like fajitas for six!  Seriously!

Sizziling on top of it was a mountain combination of chicken, chorizo sausage, pork, steak,  and shrimp on the side.  I'm allergic to shellfish.  My husband was fine doing without shrimp, but the server was gracious enough to offer his shrimp to be cooked and served separately.  Also included were the signature onions, peppers and tomatoes. Thankfully, the veggies were done just to our taste - crisp and not too soggy.

It was such a value, we got a total of 13 fajitas within three days.

I already had a package of 10 flour tortillas at home, which cost .99.  I also had some shredded cheese and other items to add to them.  We were able to make EIGHT fajitas at home with the leftovers for dinner last night and lunch today.

I'm quite surprised that we got so much for leftovers.  Yes, it looked big, but we were loading up our tortillas at the restaurant, especially my husband.  I had two, he had three.

He admits that he may have been able to have one or two more fajitas at the restaurant if it wasn't for all the chips and salsa we had, plus the Queso Fundito con Chorizo - melted cheese with spicy sausage, served with soft flour tortillas.  It was so good, it should almost be illegal.

We told our server that this should be called fajitas for six.  He laughed, then told us of one customer who was a big guy, more tall and muscle than fat he says, ate a full order in one sitting, after a full basket of chips.  He then ordered fried ice cream for dessert.  Ohhhhhh my!

Hungarian Club Feast

What a food-coma afternoon.  My family went to our Hungarian club's annual lunch at Sterle's Country House, the oldest and one of the last remaining restaurants in the area to serve Hungarian and Slovenian food.  Correct me if I'm wrong, but this is probably the last place in the area of this size where large families and groups of friends can gather at large tables, clank thick beer mugs together and dance the polka.  Our dues help pay for the dinner, so, we got all this for $10.

We had (from bottom, then clockwise) chicken paprikash, roasted pork with gravy, green beans and Weinerschnitzel (vee'-ner-shnit-zell), breaded and fried veal. 

We started with noodle soup.  Since their new ownership, it looks and tastes different.  My brother didn't like it at all, but, my husband (a new member) had four bowls.  It used to look and taste like chicken noodle soup.  This looked and tasted like it was a combination of chicken and beef broth.  I had half a bowl; partly because I was saving room for the heavy-hitters, partly because it was not like I remembered it.  Some things change.

At least it's all still served 'family style,' with kettles of soup and large platters are set in the middle of the table to serve yourself, just like at home.

The club hosts a dinner in October as well at the same place in the private party room.

It wasn't always held here, and there used to be more events.  Actually, before there were 'events,' it was a lifestyle.  The club used to be an integral part of a tight community.

Our group, our heritage is specifically Sathmar.  In short, uncomplicated terms (hopefully), we are displaced Germans (due to Catholic beliefs) from the Black Forest region in the 16th century and settled in the Sathmar Schwab region of Hungary, (until it became part of Romania, near Transylvania after WW2).  And, I guess we weren't too popular with the resident Hungarians.  We were immigrants invading and buying their land, and working for cheap.  Some of the Sathmar Schwabs were too poor to even buy the cheap land that was available; they traveled, took odd jobs, or performed for food.  They became what can be considered gypsies.  My great-grandpa's family were farmers.  The Industrial Age lured many from that region to the US, most to Cleveland, Ohio to work for ACME.  My great-grandfather was one of them.  He was 13, and working in the field.  His parents approached him with a suitcase and a man from the village.  He was told that he was going with the man to the New Country and they had to go at that instant.

My great-grandfather was one of the founding members of the club in 1925.  He helped build the club's own large building close to their neighborhood church.  Sadly, the club sold that building in the '60s, so my brother and I have never been there.  The tight neighborhood scattered to varied suburbs.  Generations have been lost and some didn't carry on the tradition.  Membership has shrunk.  Even today, my mom and uncle savored telling us delightful stories of their time at the club.  I love hearing about it.  My uncle loved helping the ladies in the kitchen and watching the guys play pool, but, he got lots of extra bakery when he helped in the kitchen.  I have photos of he, my mom and their late cousin in traditional costume, waiting to dance on one of the club's two dance floors.  As soon as I find them they will be included in this post.

Back then in the 50s and 60s, they tell us they didn't go to restaurants.  They didn't go 'out' as we now know it.  They can remember the few times they went to McDonald's for 'special' occasions.   If they went 'out,' it was the whole family, and it was just a few blocks away at the club.  Ladies cooked and played cards.  Men played cards and shot pool.  Kids had much space and time to invent their own games and imaginary worlds if they weren't practicing traditional dance.  Some things change.

Now, less than a hundred of us meet twice a year for a meal.  It's sad to see a tradition fade, yet inspiring to be one of the few that are keeping it alive.

Yet, some things don't change.  We listened to fellow member Joe Jeromos play some Hungarian music along with polka and some tunes one would probably hear at a wedding.  Grandma and Grandpa had all of his vinyl records.  You can listen to him HERE.

There's Joe

Here's a few more photos:

Upon entrance

Lobby

Old-school babooshka