Growing up in my father’s parish on Chicago’s South Side, I recall a disproportionate number of his parishioners owning restaurants, cafeterias and lunchrooms. My parents, siblings, and I often ate in them. They had distinctively American names such as Majestic, Cosmopolitan, New World but there were also homages to Greece such as Acropolis and Parthenon.
There was an early period when the quality of meals in Greek restaurants was mocked. The other day I wandered in where angels fear to tread.