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Spanakopita


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My one true love is food. It comes from my ethnicity–Greek. From that day my nana crossed the raging Pacific, I was changed. Her cooking is beyond incredible. And when she bakes native Greek foods, it really is to die for.
Spanakopita. Although I’m not particularly fond of this type, it tops Greek culture–a true classic. Whenever my nana makes it, she forces me to try it. Every. Single. Time. Already knowing it’s the same bad taste, I continue to eat. Similar to spanakopita, sometimes, I’m required to do something I loathe. But swallowing the slimy leaves, the taste soon disappears.
Cheese pita. The cottage cheese creates an odd texture and becomes distinct in my mouth. It makes a statement. But I’m not one to make a statement–I don’t see myself as popular, rich, or well-known. Instead, I’m as a band nerd, the girl lugging her instrument case all around school and the one who has a chance to be popular, but, chooses to be a geek.
Apple pita. Sweet apples and cinnamon cover my taste buds. My comfort food. But a thought pops into my head. Is there ever a place where I don’t feel at home? Most times, I make friends wherever I go. Whether I’m at a random bonfire, or hundreds of miles from home, I can strike up a conversation with ease.
I think back to the pitas. With each comes a trait I keep in the back of my mind–each one a trait I’m inspired by daily. Although my nana will not be around forever, the pitas will be, along with the lessons I’ve learned. Willpower. Originality. Adaptability.



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