We still occasionally receive letters for Father Dimitri Tsakas, the former owner of our house and a priest at the nearby Greek Orthodox Church of St George in West End. Needless to say, where we live is fairly close to the heart of Brisbane's Greek heartland. This means there is a no shortage of Greek food available pretty much any day of the week. But for two days a year too much Greek is barely enough. It's Paniyiri time. Here is an excuse to smash plates unrelated to kitchen inadequacies. You can Greek dance, learn to cook Greek food, harness your football skills and eat all the honey puffs, baklava, souvlaki, octopus, haloumi and any other Greek treat that takes your fancy. You can even eat a Greek salad if you a) have no spirit of adventure and imagination or b) want to create an illusion of being healthy by eating an olive or a piece of tomato. And of course you can wash it down with a Greek beer or strong Greek coffee. There's a whole section of hairy, scary rides which, if you want my advice, should only be attempted before and not after any of the above except perhaps the salad. As would be expected the city's Greek community comes out in force but it's a party not just those born with a honey puff in their mouth. At Paniyiri time everyone gets to embrace their inner Greek.