Edwin came in on the train for spring break this evening, and we took him to the Greek restaurant in Old Town, Alexandria that my family has been going to since I was in high school. He had a hankering for stuffed grape leaves.
Earlier today, Chris told his colleague, whose husband’s family is Greek, where we were planning on going. It had been a while since we’d been there, so he thought he’d ask someone who might have inside knowledge, so she texted her husband’s family text chain to inquire.
Well. Little did she know about the family feud. The mother said, “Don’t ever mention the name of that restaurant again.” Her husband told her to delete the text quickly before his dad saw them. I am so curious as to why the blood went bad (maybe it was never good?).
I watched the aging owners with fresh interest as they greeted their customers, poured wine, and produced trays of branzino and moussaka, so gracious and good-natured. What ever is the the beef between these countrymen?
My Corner of the Village 