Ευχαριστώ, Pylos

You caught me. I lied to you, reader. I know I promised more frequent posts but I still made you wait.... patience is a virtue. I was clearly testing your authenticity as a human.

Now, as some of you may not know, I love all things Greek. From their affinity for the olive to my friend Constantine's ridiculously beautiful hair - the Greeks could teach us Americans a thing or two about living the good life. So when my friend shared that we were going to Pylos for her birthday, I was ecstatic... maybe a little too much. These are new friends, I should try to hide the odd side of me. But Pylos? COME ON! Ever since my sister moved to the East Village, I've been waiting for the day I'd eat at Pylos. I was excited.

I met my friends - and besides for the self-loathing woman next to us out for her anniversary with the husband she clearly abhorred - all was perfect. Once our Greek friend arrived, we were ready to order. Think I'd go without a Greek? Yea, okay. Now, I cannot stress how effing delicious each morsel was. For appetizers, we shared a little of everything with one another since we all were gaga over the dishes. My personal favorites were the anginares moussaka (artichoke moussaka) and soutzoukakia smyrneika (awesome meatball things, yea don't try to pronounce it - that's why we invited a Greek). As per my friend's suggestion, I ordered the arni kotsi me meli, gigantes skordalia kai psiti tomata, which roughly translates into huge lamb shank awesomeness with bean puree and ridiculous roasted tomatoes. So maybe I added an adjective or two. You get the point.

I had to leave dinner early to visit my newly engaged friend and oogle her ring. I was a little sad.

Parting is such sweet sorrow