The
meal was marvellous. Seriously, Eddy couldn’t remember when he’d last eaten so
much, or such good food. Of course, he’d been living on Ultra-Lowest-Price ready
meals and various soups for a few months, hoping for a steady role, and
staggering from one poor royalty cheque to the next. But even if he’d been
properly fed, this meal would have been one of his favourites ever. Deep fried
filo parcels filled with feta cheese and dill, a selection of skewered meat
with the flavours of char-grill and cumin, spicy sausage with garlic and
peppers, vine leaves with pine nuts and rice, onion and sultanas…the dishes
kept coming. It was a blissful evening of choice and sensation and
satisfaction.
“If
you’d like some more,” Nuri said, heaping the remains of a vegetable moussaka
onto his plate, “The seafood guvec is very good here. Or the kleftiko, which is
my favourite.”
Eddy
stared back at him. They’d been eating steadily for a couple of hours, yet