Tolga, Adam and I went to lunch at a Greek restaurant in Vegas. Tolga was visibly excited because it reminded him of Turkey. On the menu, some Greek food had the same names as Turkish food so Tolga started hugging the menu. (He wanted to bring it home just because of that.) Anyway, one of the appetizers Tolga ordered was feta cheese cubes and whole olives. He kept urging me to eat the cheese cubes, so I ate one. He wasn’t satisfied until I ate an olive. But I wasn’t in the mood for an olive.
He insisted. “You have to eat an olive after the cheese. You have to, Christine. The olive is the backwash. It’s the backwash!”
I was confused. “What?”
“Not the backwash, I mean, I mean…” Tolga started shaking his head searching for the right word. “Not the backwash… um…um…the kicker!!!”
I still looked at him confused.
Adam looked at him confused.
Adam said, “You mean the chaser?”
“Oh yeah, that’s it. The chaser.”
Adam and I laughed, then I ate the olive. Tolga was pleased.
I now know that feta cheese must be chased by an olive. I didn’t know that before.