Maybe ten years ago or so, when I was playing house with my coke dealer and his children, I spent a lot of time in Rutland and Fair Haven, Vermont. They’re tiny towns, when compared to places like Schenectady, Rutland being only slightly larger than Fair Haven, but there’s exponentially more for adults to do there than in Whitehall, New York, which is where I lived at the time.
There were two restaurants that we frequented. One was a restaurant called The Fair Haven Inn that was owned by a Greek family who’s black sheep I was best friends (almost lovers) with, and the other was a decently sized diner called Rutland Diner that was owned by a different Greek family that I had no ties to. Both served their own version of spanakopita, or spinach pie, and I was instantly hooked.
What’s completely bizarre about this is, before I tried spanakopita, I refused to let spinach anywhere near my mouth. Long story short, when I was about six, my father made me eat an entire can of PopEye Spinach (You remember the brand, I’m sure). I vomited directly after finishing the can and never ate spinach again.
Until the first time my dealer and I sat down in Rutland Diner.
Their version of spanakopita was complimentary with any meal and was more pie-like. They made it in sheets instead of triangles. They served it hot or cold and I didn’t know it could be served hot until I had it at The Fair Haven Inn.
Shortly after Master tried spanakopita for the first time and liked it (I took Him to Rutland Diner shortly after we met.), I went on a mad dash for a recipe. Unfortunately, these are much cheaper to buy from the store than to make from scratch. Between the phyllo and feta, this recipe tends to be a little pricey. But for us, the extra $5 or so is worth it. Making them from scratch means we can make them taste exactly how we like them. Store bought spanakopita tends to be a little bland. Master likes His tangy. Read more…