More Grilled Sheep Intestine Sir?

Tom Winnifrith Wednesday 30 April 2014


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It was one of the good ideas of the Mrs. She searched the internet and found the second most highly rated restaurant in Napfio (the first capital of modern Greece). And so off we marched. It was a little off the beaten track but she was sure that it was worth it.

In due course we arrived in the sort of residential neighbourhood that has yet to benefit from gentrification and oddly enough we were the only customers of this fine establishment with rave reviews on the internet. Inside was woman who must have been 85 and in due course her son (60) arrived on his motorbike. And then there was us.

Outside two large dogs barked loudly. But sitting on a chair beneath a table was a large black cat with flecks of grey on his fur and with one eye and half an ear missing. He yawned and the dogs fled nervously. We decided to sit outside with the cat.

The menu was extensive but as is the way in Greece nearly everything was unavailable. The Mrs opted for Souvlaki – a safe but dull call – but my eye was drawn at once to “grilled intestines.” The waiter noted that my choice was “brave” and scuttled off.

As our food arrived the big cat stirred and approached the Mrs rising on its haunches in a menacing manner.  Other little cats (Fagin’s young helpers) appeared to look sweet and warm the heart of the Mrs who was not much taken with the menacing big cat. Chucking a titbit to the young cats failed to work. Big menacing cat strode off, cuffed the tiddlers, ate the food, and went back to menacing the Mrs.

And then my grilled intestine arrived.  I ordered it on the basis that one should try all foods once. I have eaten guinea pig and locusts so what could be so bad about intestine? Moreover I share the view of Hugh F-W that if an animal has died so that humans can eat it is offensive just to east the “best bits” and use the rest as animal food or as ingredients for Iceland frozen foods.

Part of the dish was some rather chewy stringy bits shaped like Fettuccine, the other half some lumps of a substance which looked a bit like liver. The taste? It was rather good, a bit like liver and the chewy bits were delicious. After a while I thought to ask “intestine of what?” It was sheep intestine. That I offered a few bits to the menacing big cat was merely to stop him menacing the Mrs, I’d happily go back for another helping myself.


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About Tom Winnifrith
Tom Winnifrith is the editor of When he is not harvesting olives in Greece, he is (planning to) raise goats in Wales.
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