At lunch in Afitos, Halkidiki recently, we ordered meatballs and looked forward to those herby, cumin morsels rolling around in tomato sauce. But what arrived was a long, dry sausage. "Don't worry," the waiter kicked off, "Greek balls can be any shape."
"So," I headed back, "Greece won the World Cup thanks to all that practice kicking a sausage around?"
Peace broke out at the taverna. In fact the waiter recommended Peace Soup followed by Crap Salad. But if we craved those red, spicy balls, the cry was: Soudzoukakia - Bring Me The Meatballs Of Smyrna!
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