bottlebugs
Well-Known Member
I was disappointed with the sudden closure of my favourite Italian Food Store. I was
a faithful customer for fifty years. The original owners sold the shop and their name
a few years back. Little by little they changed things. It didn't go unnoticed. Sales
dropped off and soon it felt like I was one of their only customers. Maybe I was.
Alas, it was one of the few shops in Ottawa that stocked Greek products. I could even get
the latest copy of the Montreal Greek Newspaper. I would chuckle because if you folded
the grocery adverts open, the opposite side had racy photos of the latest Greek bombshells. The editor seemed to be grinning up at the beauties above his column knowingly. My Mom's family came to Canada via Alsace. That's my French side. That was 150 years ago. They originally travelled with gypsies from Greece, to Alsace a hundred years before that. This family secret was held close to my Grandfather's chest for many years. Yet in all that, he was dark, with piercing brown eyes and black hair. He could read tea leaves and tell your fortune with cards. I share the same attributes. But now I just look like an old Greek guy hiding from his questioning wife. The olive doesn't fall far from the branch.
The next closest thing to Greek is the Lebanese store around the corner. It's right next
door to our favourite pizza joint. Lebanese pizza is the best in Ottawa. The crust is nice
and flaky like a croissant (French influence) and the sauce is perfect. French is still
considered a second language in many Arabic counties. While we waited for our pizza,
I stopped into the store next door. I bought my favourites; kibbe (a type of kabob), greek
dolmades, and a bottle of pepsi and 7up in small glass bottles. Yum. Hot day cold drinks.
When I popped them in the fridge back at home I noticed how old fashioned they looked.
Thick glass bottles with real ACL not those mylar stickers we see now in Canada. On the cap and flip sides their names were written in Arabic! They were a product of Lebanon! Yalla Yalla its time for dinner!
a faithful customer for fifty years. The original owners sold the shop and their name
a few years back. Little by little they changed things. It didn't go unnoticed. Sales
dropped off and soon it felt like I was one of their only customers. Maybe I was.
Alas, it was one of the few shops in Ottawa that stocked Greek products. I could even get
the latest copy of the Montreal Greek Newspaper. I would chuckle because if you folded
the grocery adverts open, the opposite side had racy photos of the latest Greek bombshells. The editor seemed to be grinning up at the beauties above his column knowingly. My Mom's family came to Canada via Alsace. That's my French side. That was 150 years ago. They originally travelled with gypsies from Greece, to Alsace a hundred years before that. This family secret was held close to my Grandfather's chest for many years. Yet in all that, he was dark, with piercing brown eyes and black hair. He could read tea leaves and tell your fortune with cards. I share the same attributes. But now I just look like an old Greek guy hiding from his questioning wife. The olive doesn't fall far from the branch.
The next closest thing to Greek is the Lebanese store around the corner. It's right next
door to our favourite pizza joint. Lebanese pizza is the best in Ottawa. The crust is nice
and flaky like a croissant (French influence) and the sauce is perfect. French is still
considered a second language in many Arabic counties. While we waited for our pizza,
I stopped into the store next door. I bought my favourites; kibbe (a type of kabob), greek
dolmades, and a bottle of pepsi and 7up in small glass bottles. Yum. Hot day cold drinks.
When I popped them in the fridge back at home I noticed how old fashioned they looked.
Thick glass bottles with real ACL not those mylar stickers we see now in Canada. On the cap and flip sides their names were written in Arabic! They were a product of Lebanon! Yalla Yalla its time for dinner!
