
Chicago fire: Flaming saganaki sparks interest worldwide decades after its Greektown origin
Last winter, at Chicago's Greek Islands (200 S. Halsted St.), our Greektown dinner started with a bang — more accurately, a whoosh. A server carried a small black pan of blazing cheese to the table as startled diners burst into applause for what is the Windy City's notoriously combustible appetizer: flaming saganaki.
In Chicago, the dish is a ritual. It's dramatic, it's delicious, and — let's be honest — it's also a little absurd in the best possible way.
The word saganaki comes from sagani, a small, two-handled Greek pan. In Greece, the dish is straightforward: firm, dry cheeses such as kasseri, feta or halloumi are pan-fried until golden. No fire. No flair. Just cheese doing what cheese does best, served with crusty bread.
In Chicago, we lightly coat the square or triangular cut of cheese in flour and fry it in a little olive oil until crisp and golden. Then we flip it once, warm it through, splash it with brandy (usually ouzo or Metaxa), light it up, and before setting it on the table, flamboyantly extinguish the flames with a lemon squeeze and a hearty shout of 'Opa!' That word — part cheer, part celebration, part call to 'let's dance!' — adds the perfect exclamation point.
So, where did this fiery tradition begin? Depends on whom you ask.
Chris Liakouras of the now-shuttered Parthenon restaurant claimed in a 1979 Tribune interview that he invented flaming saganaki in 1968. He described sitting at a table with three friends when the idea for a new menu item was born. 'Why don't you try flaming the cheese?' one of the ladies suggested.
And just like that, an appetizer exploded into legend.
But Petros Kogeones of Diana's, another Greektown fixture, had a different story. In 1991, he told the Tribune that he and his brother were flambéing cheese as far back as the early 1960s. According to Kogeones, they'd set up tables outside their family grocery, splash brandy on sizzling cheese, light it all on fire, and shout 'Opa!' Eventually, perhaps to stake his claim, Kogeones even renamed the restaurant Diana's Opa.
Regardless of who struck the first match to brandy-doused cheese, one thing is clear: Flaming saganaki was a hit. And honestly, when we're traveling and we order saganaki, we're always a little disappointed when it doesn't arrive in a ball of fire. There is, however, increasingly little chance of being served saganaki sans flames, at least in the U.S.: Restaurants from Brooklyn to Malibu are figuring out that brandy and a match might be the not-so-secret ingredients to serving a lot of the crowd-pleasing saganaki.
'The flames were a smart marketing idea,' says Louie Alexakis, owner of the Avli restaurants in Chicago. 'In the 1950s and '60s, a lot of Greek restaurant workers in Chicago had fine dining backgrounds. They saw the wow factor of tableside flambé — things like crepes Suzette or bananas Foster. Flaming cheese was the next step.'
Alexakis still flames saganaki at Avli, but also offers a more modern take: saganaki served with spiced fig chutney — still delicious, and less likely to set off the sprinklers.
Not everyone is on board with this fiery New World opener to a traditional Greek dinner in Chicagoland. Ted Maglaris, founder of Mana in LaGrange (88 LaGrange Road), said, 'We chose not to flame our pan-fried saganaki but rather to honor the traditional Greek preparation, inspired by recipes from mothers in Greece, which is the inspiration for our restaurant's name, Mana. Flaming saganaki is a relatively recent tradition that began in Chicago, not in Greece. Our goal is to provide an authentic Greek experience, staying true to how saganaki is traditionally enjoyed in Greece.'
Flashback: Memories of when Greektown was 'a mile long and 24 hours'With the current eagerness to sample 'authentic' preparations of Greek, Italian, Mexican and other traditional national foods, it's understandable that some restaurants might prefer to serve saganaki the way their mothers and grandmothers did, no matches or accelerants required.
Other restaurants may be toning down the theatrics for safety reasons — turns out, flaming cheese and crowded dining rooms make for a risky combination.
Somewhat surprisingly, flaming saganaki is now also catching on in Greece, especially in tourist-heavy restaurants, such as the Athens Yacht Club. Though such fiery presentations of cheese are not common in Greece, some travelers have come to expect saganaki to be flaming.
And who can blame them?
There's something undeniably fun about turning a simple cheese dish into a full-blown pyrotechnic display. Flaming saganaki isn't just food — it's dinner, entertainment, and a tiny adrenaline rush all in one.
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Los Angeles Times
4 days ago
- Los Angeles Times
Why does Thai Town love strawberry Fanta? The gods have the answer
I cannot shake the sense that Los Angeles is a city of supreme spiritual significance. Perhaps I feel that way because of what I see out of my car window. The estimated 15,953 religious organizations in the greater metro area take up quite a bit of real estate, after all. Or maybe it's that once this thought took hold, I noticed divinity showing up time after time in the aisles of grocery stores. At India Sweets and Spices, I'd pick up a bag of powdered tulsi leaves, only to learn that the tropical herb goes by another name: holy basil, considered a powerful Ayurvedic medicinal plant and a frequent sacred offering. At now-shuttered Papa Cristo's, I'd cock my head at a bag of buckwheat, unable to recall a Greek recipe that uses it, then discover koliva — sweetened wheat ornamentally adorned with dried fruit and nuts, prepared to honor the passing of a loved one. So imagine my simultaneous surprise and lack thereof when I learned the lore of Thai strawberry Fanta, known as Fanta nam daeng, or 'Fanta red water,' found at spirit houses. The small shrines — constructed outside of Thai restaurants, cafes, shops, homes and parks — honor spirits' claim to the land and provide them with a place to dwell. The red Fanta, almost always a spirit house offering, flows freely in Los Angeles, considering it is home to the most Thais outside of Thailand. My resounding 'Why?' is, I suppose, a fitting question considering the higher powers at play. The answer is, as it always seems to be, all but simple. In Thai culture, ghosts, broadly referred to as phi (ผี) are commonly believed in and tended to. The list of spirits is long, each with their own physical attributes, epic folklore and methods of appeasement. Much like those on this earthly plane, the way to a spirit's heart is through his or her stomach. The list of snack and drink offerings found at spirit houses is almost as long as the list of spirits themselves. At the spirit house outside of Silom Supermarket on Hollywood Boulevard, coconut water, rice, fruit, the fermented milk drink Yakult and desserts sprout up daily as if grown from the pavement below. But red Fanta is the most perennial of these offerings. Pip Paganelli, a cashier at Thai dessert shop Banh Kanom Thai, gives me an explanation. 'In the past when we would do offerings to ghosts, it would be an offering of blood,' he says. The bubbly strawberry nectar has since replaced animal sacrifice. He also posits that red Fanta toes the line of sickly sweetness and is beloved by ghosts because of just that. Most spirits have a sweet tooth, and will gladly gobble up fruits, sticky rice and coconut cakes. Some have other theories. 'Red soda specifically is for when you pray to the kid ghost,' Kira S., another Banh Kanom Thai employee (who preferred to provide only her first name), tells me. 'It's the spirit of a boy who's passed away. If you give him offerings like toys or red soda, you can ask for things.' She's speaking of Kuman Thong, a common household deity who can be of assistance when it comes to the protection of the home, help at school or, 'say I wanted a new phone from my mom, I'd pray for that.' An answer to the pressing question of 'Why Fanta?' is a bit fuzzier and most likely has to do with the giant soda brand's longtime presence in the Thai region. Coca-Cola, the beverage behemoth that sells its products, including Fanta, in more than 200 countries, did not respond to requests for comment. 'It can be any red drink, but the red Fanta is the most common,' Paganelli says. 'There are some gods where you'd offer any black drink, like Coca-Cola. It's a Thai Hindu belief that when there's an eclipse, the god that we believe slowly swallowed the moon has dark skin. So you'd offer any black drink, food or items.' Paganelli is referring to Phra Rahu, frequently depicted as a giant black creature, jaws eagerly wrapped around a glowing planet. Although Buddhism is the leading religion in Thailand, and by proxy Thai Town, the cultivation of spirit houses and the offerings that go along with them actually originates from animism mixed with Brahmanism (an early form of Hinduism), which subsequently made its way into Buddhist beliefs. Spirits can offer protection to homes and businesses, ensure a fruitful year or safeguard the health of friends and loved ones — a sip of the Champagne of fruit sodas lubricating these prayers of course. I encountered cases of the stuff at LAX-C, known to many as Thai Costco; saw it elegantly stacked at Bangluck Market; and at Silom it stood post next to the regional Thai flavor of Fanta 'green cream,' which tastes of bananas and citrus. However at Wat Thai, the massive Thai Bhuddist temple located in North Hollywood, I paced the lush red carpet puzzled to find a lack of soda with the same hue. It was then that I was pointed to the weekend food court, where a corner stall mixes up icy cups of Hale's Blue Boy with milk or sparkling water. Hales, a Thai concentrated syrup, comes in several flavors, including red-toned salak, or snake fruit. This, I'm told, does the trick. Belief system or sugar threshold aside, trips to L.A.'s Thai groceries should not be complete without a stop by their respective spirit houses, a welcome moment for reflection. Take a look at the daily offerings; in Los Angeles, the ingredients for pious pie grow abundantly, and they might just be right in front of you.

Business Insider
5 days ago
- Business Insider
At 14, I chose a high school based on my interests at the time. I regretted it for years.
"The scientific lyceum would be the perfect fit for you," my math teacher said. My Italian teacher disagreed. She noticed I was interested in writing, so she suggested the classical lyceum. Nevertheless, subjects like Latin and Greek, at the core of the classical lyceum, were anything but appealing to me. I felt confused and pulled in two different directions. I grew up in San Marino, the third-smallest country in Europe, landlocked by Italy. I had the option to attend high school in San Marino or Italy. In both countries, at around age 14 you have to pick a high school with fixed subjects, which would set you up for your later studies. At that time, I barely knew which dance style I wanted to learn that year, yet alone what I possibly wanted to do for the rest of my life. The choice wasn't easy There are three categories of high schools: lyceums, technical institutes, and professional institutes. Lyceums prepare students for a wider university choice, while the main goal of technical and professional institutes is giving students a more practical education. If you choose a lyceum, picking the perfect one can be burdensome. While the scientific and the classical lyceums are deemed as the best ones in preparing students for the toughest university degrees, you can choose something more specific, as I ended up doing. My parents let me choose freely, pointing out that if I realized I had made the wrong choice, it would be quite easy to change schools during the first year. After much consideration, I chose the high school of human sciences, following my own interests instead of my teachers' recommendations. In addition to the core subjects of Italian, English, and math, there were also courses in theater, Spanish, political economy, law, and social sciences for me to take. As a bonus, this high school didn't have lessons on Saturdays, as many others did, so my choice was finalized. My high school allowed me to pursue artistic interests For me, high school was easy compared to junior high. I was able to maintain high grades while cultivating artistic interests like playing the guitar and singing. While I enjoyed this, it did make me worry a bit about my future studies. When I was ready for college, would I be properly prepared if I wanted to pursue, say, a scientific degree? I wasn't sure. Please help BI improve our Business, Tech, and Innovation coverage by sharing a bit about your role — it will help us tailor content that matters most to people like you. What is your job title? (1 of 2) Entry level position Project manager Management Senior management Executive management Student Self-employed Retired Other Continue By providing this information, you agree that Business Insider may use this data to improve your site experience and for targeted advertising. By continuing you agree that you accept the Terms of Service and Privacy Policy . At some point, I realized that my focus on escaping the scientific versus classical dichotomy made me neglect considering other choices. As someone passionate about foreign languages and visiting new places, maybe the linguistic lyceum could have been the perfect place for me. Socially, I was concerned about my choice as well. As a shy person in a small school, I made a few friends, but I was the complete opposite of popular. I pondered if going to a bigger school would have meant more opportunities to find people with the same artistic and cultural passions. As you can see, my mind was all over the place and I was anxious about the decision I had made for a long time. After years of doubt, I have made peace with my choice In the end, I stayed at the high school I chose. I later attended University to get my bachelor's degree in information, media and advertising and later a master's in communication and information sciences. Today I am a writer, with a background in copywriting and social media planning. My high school prepared me adequately for my life and I'm at peace with the choice I had to make as a 14-year-old. It took me a long time to completely shake off the feeling that I could have made a different choice. Therapy was helpful to reaffirm that choosing at such a young age is challenging and I made the best choice for me at the time. Nowadays, I am proud of sticking to my guns and being guided by my interests and not what other people thought I should do.

USA Today
6 days ago
- USA Today
LGBTQ+ students seek social networks, safety in fraternities and sororities
LGBTQ+ students seek social networks, safety in fraternities and sororities When Dylan Mason was an incoming freshman at Grand Valley State University in Allendale, Michigan, his mom dropped him off at his dormitory with three earnest admonitions. 'She told me: Don't get a tattoo, don't get your ears pierced and don't join a fraternity,' chuckles Mason, 20, who recently finished his second year of college and his first year as a member of the fraternity Phi Kappa Tau. Mason, who identifies as gay, had never planned to join a fraternity. He changed his mind when he overhead members of another frat laughing at him. 'During winter recruitment, I was walking through the student center and heard a comment about me rushing. They thought it was funny. At the time, that really affected me,' Mason says. 'I wanted to prove them wrong. So, I made it my goal to join Greek life.' From that initial spite came genuine fellowship. 'My fraternity brothers are people who probably wouldn't have hung out with me in high school, but now they're some of my best friends,' says Mason, who is vice president of his fraternity. 'That's the beauty of diversity … even though I'm so different, I'm part of this community now — this brotherhood — and that's something I think a lot of gay people are lacking.' Greek inclusion growing Although fraternities and sororities have a history of homophobia, Greek life today is more diverse and inclusive than ever, observes Douglas N. Case, former coordinator of fraternity and sorority life at San Diego State University and an initiate of Kappa Sigma Fraternity. In studies of Greek life that he published in 1996 and 2007, Case observed a 'remarkable' shift in LGBTQ+ representation: In 1996, just 25% and 19% of LGBTQ+ men and women, respectively, said they were out to their Greek brothers and sisters. By 2007, 79% of LGBTQ+ participants in Greek life said they were out. 'Now it's 2025, and things have continued to evolve,' Case says Although she's careful to note her small sample size, Chana Etengoff found similar evidence of inclusion in a 2022 study of 50 LGBTQ+ students: 66% of LGBTQ+ participants in Greek life said their Greek experience was positive and 88% said Greek life contributed positively to their overall college experience, she reported. 'It was different than I would have expected,' says Etengoff, an associate professor of psychology at New York's Adelphi University. 'To me, the takeaway is that LGBTQ+ individuals are more complex than just their sexual or gender identities … just because you're LGBTQ+ doesn't mean you can't also be motivated to participate in Greek life.' 'A built-in community of lifelong friendships' A fraternity that perfectly embodies the benefits of Greek life for LGBTQ+ students is Delta Lambda Phi (DLP), which describes itself as a 'Greek organization started by gay men for all men.' Inclusive by design, founder Vernon L. Strickland III established it in 1987 to create an alternative social space for Queer men whose relationships were often predicated on sex. 'In the gay world, bars and hookup culture are very pervasive. And that's not a bad thing, but sometimes people want a little bit more,' says Brosnan Rhodes, who joined DLP in 2017 and currently serves as its trustee. 'Delta Lambda Phi offers a built-in community of lifelong friendships and bonds that you can plug into at any time in your life, anywhere you go.' And because DLP is Queer, the relationships its members create — for purposes of friendship, mentoring or professional networking — are inherently benign. 'In our community, it can be hard to get close to people because we don't always know who is safe,' Rhodes says. 'I love the fact that within our brotherhood, we can form bonds and connections without worrying whether a space is safe. Because we have a shared experience, I know that my brothers in every situation are going to treat me with the same kindness and respect that I'm going to give them.' Nearly 40 years after DLP's founding, other fraternities and sororities are carrying its torch of inclusion. At Indiana's DePauw University, for example, the Interfraternity Council and Panhellenic Association recently drafted a joint statement of inclusion to which all fraternities and sororities have committed themselves, says Vice President for Student Affairs and Dean of Students John Mark Day. The statement reads: 'The best version of Greek life is a community where everyone feels not just tolerated but welcomed to exist as their authentic self.' 'This is deeply personal for me,' Day says. 'As someone who is both gay and a member of a fraternity, I know that these spaces can be welcoming of students who are both figuring out and fully living their LGBTQ+ identities … I also know there's a business case for this. As students become more diverse and inclusive, the organizations that will thrive will be the ones that truly live their values of brotherhood and sisterhood.' DePauw's inclusion statement is a sign of progress across the Greek system. 'It used to be the case that maybe you had a gay-friendly chapter of a fraternity or sorority that folks would gravitate to. Now, inclusion is becoming more of a priority throughout the Greek community,' Day says. For pioneers like DLP, that progress is a 'double-edged sword,' according to Rhodes, who says DLP has only eight active chapters in 2025 along with three groups currently seeking chapter status as prospective brothers find acceptance in other, larger fraternities where they previously weren't welcome. 'When Delta Lambda Phi was formed, it was because gay men could not join traditional fraternities,' says Case, an honorary DLP member. 'That's not true anymore.' What about trans and nonbinary students? Clearly, organizations like DLP are no longer necessary for some LGBTQ+ students. For others, however, they're more relevant than ever. 'More organizations are accepting, but they may not be wholly accepting,' notes Rhodes, who says DLP membership among individuals who are gender-nonconforming, nonbinary and trans has 'dramatically increased' in recent years. 'There are many parts of our community that are still underrepresented in Greek life because they aren't the 'typical' gay person. But at DLP, we're still a safe space for those people. Given the high rates of suicide among transgender and nonbinary youth, safe spaces in the Greek system can be 'lifesaving,' according to Case. 'Homophobia, heterosexism and transphobia still exist, and they're even more prevalent in single-sex organizations. So, there's still work to be done,' he says. 'But we've come a long way, and I find that to be reassuring.' Progress is evident in individuals like D. Perez-Sornia, who was one of the first trans nonbinary members of the sorority Delta Phi Epsilon when they joined it in 2019 as a junior at Cal Poly Humboldt, in Arcata, California. 'Our core values as a sorority were justice, sisterhood and love. So being in a sorority exposed me to a group of women who were into the same things I was into and had the same values I had, and that gave me an opportunity for self-growth and identity formation that I really needed at that time,' explains Perez-Sornia, who says Greek life can be rewarding for people of all gender and sexual identities when they're fortunate enough to have inclusive brothers and sisters. 'You have to be smart and do your research to find out where you'll be accepted. But if I could join a sorority as a girl with a mustache, I think anybody can.'