Dinner in Akrotiri Mess
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Of course there was also 'Domestos' (Domestica) and the high brow 'Claret 69'. For those with a sweeter tooth the Kamandaria made an appearance followed by some Filfar.
OAP
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While route-flying south from the Canal Zone in the 1950s we always did a quick stop-over at Port Sudan. It was normal for crews to bring a stock of Commandaria (as I remember the spelling), brought in from Nicosia, for the ATC staff at that desolate spot. We had an old wartime nav on the squadron who wore his Observer brevet with pride. It was his idea of navigation to look out of the window over the desert or other featureless terrain, nod and mark our position on his chart. About 4 hours flying time to P.S and a little less than that on to Khormaksar. Never missed either place on a trip - they don't make navs like that any more,I think.
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I read with interest, as a FEAF survivor. But tales of Mess food and downtown Singapore would be a shocking Thread deviation for those who loitered at AKR. 
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Major Munchies for Lamb, Pita, and Tzatziki
The Oberon, obviously a refined gentleman of excellent taste, is not the only one longing for the above-mentioned flavorsome treat! I am from Atlanta, Georgia, and well remember a landmark event in 1967 when an enterprising young Greek opened a restaurant on Peachtree Street called the Gyro Wrap. Greek being greek to most Atlantans, the populace, who loved the menu and food quality, instead of properly pronouncing YEE-RO, called the place the GY-RO WARP. As in "Let's go on over to the Gyro Warp an' get us some of that lamb with Kon-Tiki sauce!" That place is still in business more than fifty years later.
One of my finest high school friends was Greek; his father, originally from Tripolis, owned a thriving chain of "greasy spoons" in and around Atlanta. His delightful mother, also a native of the Cradle of Democracy, cooked wonderful delicacies including dolmades and spanakopita. She had a massive kitchen at home which included a ten-burner gas stove, four ovens, and a walk-in 'fridge/freezer. No one ever left that house hungry!
Keep those recipe ideas coming, ladies and gentlemen. I think the secret to a great gyro is that compressed (?) lamb that one carves off in thin sheets, but I don't know what it's called or where in Cincinnati to procure it.
- Ed
One of my finest high school friends was Greek; his father, originally from Tripolis, owned a thriving chain of "greasy spoons" in and around Atlanta. His delightful mother, also a native of the Cradle of Democracy, cooked wonderful delicacies including dolmades and spanakopita. She had a massive kitchen at home which included a ten-burner gas stove, four ovens, and a walk-in 'fridge/freezer. No one ever left that house hungry!
Keep those recipe ideas coming, ladies and gentlemen. I think the secret to a great gyro is that compressed (?) lamb that one carves off in thin sheets, but I don't know what it's called or where in Cincinnati to procure it.
- Ed
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Bunch of four of us, having consumed much refreshment there, sat down for something to eat.
Lead bloke: " What do you reckon to these kebabs then guys?"
Three slightly inebriated chaps " Yum yum, delicious etc etc" And it was..
Lead bloke in a loud voice to us lot "So what if I told you it's DONKEY!"
Cafe owner is over in a flash ..
"Hey, what are you accusing me of? You impugn my reputation and accuse me of selling donkey?"
Lead bloke "yeah yeah, Look mate, I grew up in India and I've eaten donkey loads of times. This is donkey meat. But it's very tasty and very well cooked by the way!! "
Wasn't much the guy could say really .....
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Ah Kokkinelli.... I bought two demijohns back from one trip, 1.40 local currency each and .30 back for the empty...
I was promised some very interesting delights in return for the contents of those demijohns, although for first timers you had to warn them not to spill it on any polished or varnished surface....
I was promised some very interesting delights in return for the contents of those demijohns, although for first timers you had to warn them not to spill it on any polished or varnished surface....
I read the earlier reports that Kokinelli was not available with some scepticism. During our enforced stay at AKR during GW1 they were very proud of the new Tetrapaks, fondly remembered as "Kok in a box". I always thought that the meaning of the word "Kokinelli" was "village wine" anyway?
Wotevah, five jugs of Chris's brandy sours before going out usually anaesthetisd the taste buds to the awfulness of the wine with the mezze.
The Ancient Mariner
Wotevah, five jugs of Chris's brandy sours before going out usually anaesthetisd the taste buds to the awfulness of the wine with the mezze.
The Ancient Mariner
Our AEO always blamed the local water for the fact that he always had the squits the next morning after arriving at Akrotiri. I pointed out that since landing the day before he had consumed several cans of Keo (the first was always handed to you as you climbed down the steps from the aircraft}, switching to brandy sours in the mess, then prodigious amounts of kokkinelli in downtown Limassol in the evening, and that as far as I could see he hadn't touched a drop of water on the island.
He still blamed the water!
He still blamed the water!
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As usual after landing at Aki at "oh Christ" hundred hours to fit in with the "one shift" system run by the main R.A.F. staging post eastbound, we consumed the de rigueur case of beer Keo/Carlsberg (it all came out of the same tap) followed by the combat kip. Lunch was in the Lady Armpit Club mid afternoon because the OM only opened at permanent staff hours. On entering the Mess at 1800 for the pre dinner pitchers of brandy sours, this day the barman Chris (of kebab fame) was alone. "Where is George?" we asked. "George is dead" said Chris. "Bad accident six weeks ago. Very sad. Never see again" Actually dining in the mess this day we were greeted at the door by George. "Hello George" we said. "Chis said you had died" "Is lie" he responded "you have very fine dinner then I make you one good pair of shoes, then I kill myself". It was never the same after they left.
As usual after landing at Aki at "oh Christ" hundred hours to fit in with the "one shift" system run by the main R.A.F. staging post eastbound, we consumed the de rigueur case of beer Keo/Carlsberg (it all came out of the same tap) followed by the combat kip. Lunch was in the Lady Armpit Club mid afternoon because the OM only opened at permanent staff hours. On entering the Mess at 1800 for the pre dinner pitchers of brandy sours, this day the barman Chris (of kebab fame) was alone. "Where is George?" we asked. "George is dead" said Chris. "Bad accident six weeks ago. Very sad. Never see again" Actually dining in the mess this day we were greeted at the door by George. "Hello George" we said. "Chis said you had died" "Is lie" he responded "you have very fine dinner then I make you one good pair of shoes, then I kill myself". It was never the same after they left.
OAP
I don't own this space under my name. I should have leased it while I still could
Not so. It went to the section that had its main meal at dawn - the dog section
