Page 32 of Never Too Late to Date

‘It goes so well with the magiritsa, the only thing I’ve laboured over myself.’

Vicky tried to avert her eyes from the grey mass. Angeliki wasn’t known for her cooking. As housemates back in Liverpool, that task had always fallen squarely on her own shoulders, while the trainee vet had made up for it by keeping the place spotless. Her old friend cooking was a big deal. She’d have to try and enjoy it.

‘Here we have a traditional lamb offal soup with herbs and an egg-lemon sauce. We use the lamb’s liver, heart, lungs and intestines. It’s a bit of an acquired taste, but most Greeks love it.’

Vicky tried to keep her face neutral. She wasn’t even keen on the kidneys in steak and kidney pie, let alone pieces of intestine. The soup had a thoroughly unappealing look, dotted with little bits of green.

Angeliki ladled some into a bowl and placed it in front of her along with a large chunk of bread.

‘Tuck in. As our special guest, you must try it first.’

Must I? was Vicky’s first thought, but all eyes were on her. She understood now why Suzie had been giving her a funny look. Crafty mare. She could have warned her.

Vicky put a spoonful of the soup in her mouth, and was hard-pressed not to spit out the bitter, metallic mixture. She crunched down on something chewy and unyielding and tried desperately to banish the word lung from her mind. The concoction was truly vile, but she couldn’t disappoint her hostess.

‘Mmmm, interesting. Very … distinct taste.’

She didn’t want to praise the soup to high heaven in case they gave her even more of the disgusting stuff.

Vicky couldn’t catch Suzie’s eye, as she’d give herself away. They already knew each other pretty well, even after a few weeks, and she wouldn’t be able to fake it. The bread helped take away the worst of it, followed by large gulps of wine.

When she looked up again, all three of them were laughing.

‘It’s OK, you don’t have to persevere.’ Angeliki moved the bowl onto her own placemat, and Vicky breathed a sigh of relief.

‘Although I’ve slaved over a hot stove, I understand that magiritsa is a real Marmite experience, which was coincidentally something I couldn’t bear when I lived in Britain. Do you remember, Vick?’

Vicky smiled and nodded.

‘You lived on the stuff smothered on toast between nursing shifts, while I thought I’d vomit the first time I tasted it. I never changed my opinion in all the years we lived together. So, you’re excused. Here, have some more bread.’

Vicky tucked into the excellent bread while Angeliki helped herself and Nick to enormous portions of the soup.

A glance to the side showed her that Suzie only had a small piece of bread on her plate.

‘Isn’t she having any soup?’ Vicky pointed in her friend’s direction.

‘Oh no, she hates it.’

Vicky gave Suzie her fiercest stare, and her new friend had the grace to look shamefaced.

‘Thanks for letting me know that I might hate it too.’

‘I didn’t want to influence you either way. You might have loved it.’

‘Mmmmm.’

She’d have to get Suzie back for that one.

With the soup hoovered up, and a couple of glasses of wine in, Angeliki was ready to explain the egg game with her usual enthusiasm and handed each of them a brightly coloured oval from the bowl.

‘We call this tsoúgrisma, and it symbolises the resurrection of Jesus, with the hard shell representing the sealed tomb, the red dye his blood, and the cracking of the eggs the emergence from the tomb.’

Vicky picked up her egg and turned it over in her hand.

‘It all sounds pretty serious.’

Angeliki smiled.