If you’ve ever been to a Greek restaurant in the U.S. (excluding gyro stands), then there’s a good chance that you’ve tried saganaki [fried cheese]. I’ve been a big fan of Greek food ever since I visited Papagus Taverna in Chicago around a decade ago. And since then, I’ve tried Greek cuisine in several other US cities. One universal – even emblematic – experience with (American) Greek restaurants is the festive tradition around saganaki. Here’s how it goes: 2-3 waiters arrive at your table – one holding a frying pan containing a rectangular block of cheese. One pours a high-alcohol-content liquor over the cheese; another lights the cheese on fire; and together they all yell, OPAAAA!!!! It’s fun, festive, and memorable – a crowd favorite – which is, undoubtedly why they do it.
.
I’d always assumed – based on this “tradition” – that “opa” was an expression of joy or excitement, along the lines of “hurray!” or “yippee!” But… no. Sadly, I learned from Petros, one of my Greek Oldenburg classmates during my first semester that I was completely on the wrong track with this word’s translation. Firstly, this silly gag with cheese flambé apparently has nothing to do with any Greek traditions. Secondly, opa just means “oops”, as in “Opa, I accidentally stepped on your toe” or “Opa, I did it again” (à la Britney). There’s apparently a wedding tradition featured in “My Big, Fat Greek Wedding" (a movie I haven’t yet seen but would like to), in which glass plates are tossed onto the floor and broken while people shout “Opa!”… but this is, perhaps, done sort of “tongue-in-cheek”: Opa! [Oops, I just broke a plate] Opa! [oops, there goes another one!”] ...And so maybe, just maybe, one could extend this idea to saganaki – opa! [Oops, I’m a pyromaniac and like to set cheese on fire for American customers!] But not so, according to Petros.
.
Disappointed as I was by this new knowledge (roughly on par with learning that there’s no tooth fairy), I refused to stop using my favorite foreign exclamation in any and all celebratory situations (especially if Petros, my Greek pal, was within earshot). Eventually, my use of the word opa caught on and began to insidiously brainwash my Greek classmates. Before long they were joining me in shouting opa! with glee at parties and during drinking toasts. Opa had become our ultimate party word in Oldenburg…
.
But despite the successful transformation of opa’s meaning, what I really longed for was the chance to give Petros a true Greek-American “saganaki opa!” experience.
.
(Okay, so fast-forward back to the present):
On our final evening in Athens (June 16), the entire group of EUREC (RE master’s program) classmates from the “wind energy” and “energy construction in buildings” groups gathered for our last supper at a nice restaurant in the “Plaka” (touristic part of Athens full of restaurants and souvenir shops). We had reserved a nice terrace balcony area with a view of the Acropolis at a restaurant called “H Πάλια Ταβέρνα του Ψάρρα" [I Palia Taverna tou Psarra -- The Old Taverna of the Fisherman]. Petros – in perfect Greek style – was a couple of hours late to our dinner gathering. But since he was one of the last ones to arrive, it meant that everyone was present when he received his surprise gift (that I had arranged earlier in the day with the restaurant management).
.
Suddenly, across the balcony off to my right side, a flash of light caught my eye (a skillet being lit on fire)… Then three waiters dashed to the table where Petros sat and, all at once, they exclaimed (as if reciting a line from a familiar but not entirely memorized script): OPAAA! I would describe the look on Petros’ face that followed this mysterious gift as one of bewilderment -- with a hint of annoyance -- as he struggled to make sense of what had just taken place.
.
Then… slowly… after a minute or two of reflection, a glimmer of recognition appeared… a smile spread across his face, and he shouted over to me at the adjacent table, “Scott! Did you do this?!” When I nodded, he and the other Greek classmates who’d studied with us in Oldenburg burst into a hardy laugh. It was a moment I’d imagined, waited for, planned, and carefully orchestrated…. And it gave me a real sense of accomplishment -- one of my favorite and most memorable moments in Greece (and not a minute too soon).
.
.
I’d always assumed – based on this “tradition” – that “opa” was an expression of joy or excitement, along the lines of “hurray!” or “yippee!” But… no. Sadly, I learned from Petros, one of my Greek Oldenburg classmates during my first semester that I was completely on the wrong track with this word’s translation. Firstly, this silly gag with cheese flambé apparently has nothing to do with any Greek traditions. Secondly, opa just means “oops”, as in “Opa, I accidentally stepped on your toe” or “Opa, I did it again” (à la Britney). There’s apparently a wedding tradition featured in “My Big, Fat Greek Wedding" (a movie I haven’t yet seen but would like to), in which glass plates are tossed onto the floor and broken while people shout “Opa!”… but this is, perhaps, done sort of “tongue-in-cheek”: Opa! [Oops, I just broke a plate] Opa! [oops, there goes another one!”] ...And so maybe, just maybe, one could extend this idea to saganaki – opa! [Oops, I’m a pyromaniac and like to set cheese on fire for American customers!] But not so, according to Petros.
.
Disappointed as I was by this new knowledge (roughly on par with learning that there’s no tooth fairy), I refused to stop using my favorite foreign exclamation in any and all celebratory situations (especially if Petros, my Greek pal, was within earshot). Eventually, my use of the word opa caught on and began to insidiously brainwash my Greek classmates. Before long they were joining me in shouting opa! with glee at parties and during drinking toasts. Opa had become our ultimate party word in Oldenburg…
.
But despite the successful transformation of opa’s meaning, what I really longed for was the chance to give Petros a true Greek-American “saganaki opa!” experience.
.
(Okay, so fast-forward back to the present):
On our final evening in Athens (June 16), the entire group of EUREC (RE master’s program) classmates from the “wind energy” and “energy construction in buildings” groups gathered for our last supper at a nice restaurant in the “Plaka” (touristic part of Athens full of restaurants and souvenir shops). We had reserved a nice terrace balcony area with a view of the Acropolis at a restaurant called “H Πάλια Ταβέρνα του Ψάρρα" [I Palia Taverna tou Psarra -- The Old Taverna of the Fisherman]. Petros – in perfect Greek style – was a couple of hours late to our dinner gathering. But since he was one of the last ones to arrive, it meant that everyone was present when he received his surprise gift (that I had arranged earlier in the day with the restaurant management).
.
Suddenly, across the balcony off to my right side, a flash of light caught my eye (a skillet being lit on fire)… Then three waiters dashed to the table where Petros sat and, all at once, they exclaimed (as if reciting a line from a familiar but not entirely memorized script): OPAAA! I would describe the look on Petros’ face that followed this mysterious gift as one of bewilderment -- with a hint of annoyance -- as he struggled to make sense of what had just taken place.
.
Then… slowly… after a minute or two of reflection, a glimmer of recognition appeared… a smile spread across his face, and he shouted over to me at the adjacent table, “Scott! Did you do this?!” When I nodded, he and the other Greek classmates who’d studied with us in Oldenburg burst into a hardy laugh. It was a moment I’d imagined, waited for, planned, and carefully orchestrated…. And it gave me a real sense of accomplishment -- one of my favorite and most memorable moments in Greece (and not a minute too soon).
.
The flaming cheese arrives (photo by C.Wong)
Petros is incredulous, and Giota says "What in the ..."
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Post-cheese laughter (photo by F.Veynandt)
Petros is in the center (green-white plaid shirt). At this point -- a few minutes later -- the waiter has begun giving Petros the play-by-play description of the saganaki shananigans I requested from the wait staff. Unfortunately, I forgot to bring my camera to this shin-dig, and I'm still waiting on a few more photos (including one with Petros' look of disbelief) from a several friends. If I get other good shots, I'll post them here later.
Post-cheese laughter (photo by F.Veynandt)
Petros is in the center (green-white plaid shirt). At this point -- a few minutes later -- the waiter has begun giving Petros the play-by-play description of the saganaki shananigans I requested from the wait staff. Unfortunately, I forgot to bring my camera to this shin-dig, and I'm still waiting on a few more photos (including one with Petros' look of disbelief) from a several friends. If I get other good shots, I'll post them here later.
