One of the benefits of eating in Chicago’s Greektown is that it almost feels like a religious act when the restaurants are named Zeus and Venus. (“Venus” is Aphrodite — in Greek — on the screen-savers at the waiters’ computer terminals.)

Going out to eat becomes embodied religion. “Corpospirituality,” as Michael York would have it.

My friends are in awe of the Cyprian’s Mousakas Tsoukas.