Opa! Opa! Everyone who's been to Greece has a favorite drunk-on-ouzo story. We'll spare you ours. And anyway, our drunk-in-Greece stories have more to do with the local wine served at tiny tavernas.

We've always liked anise-flavored liqueur—sambuca, pastis—but we love ouzo, if only for the ritual of drinking it. As Zen master teaches, ritual and form are the keys to understanding our existence, and there are both ritual and form to ouzo. We take ours neat with a cup of ice on the side. Such is how master taught us; so it is that we drink it. Sometimes, it's our aperitif, but often it accompanies a light meal of mezedes: saganaki (fried cheese), keftedakia (meatballs), tzatziki, taramosalata (fluffy fish roe dip), loukanika (sausage) and the like.

We add two cubes—no more, no less—into the glass of clear, thick liqueur; the mixture becomes cloudy. We sip slowly, savoring the bite of the anise, the layers of spices, then add more ice. We continue sipping and adding ice until the cold liquid has just a whisper of the original ouzo. Then, we order another.

We prefer Uncle Nick's Ouzaria to its left-hand-side neighbor, the proper Uncle Nick's restaurant. The casual companion lends itself to lengthy, light dinners with friends. Even at the bar, alone with a book, we've worked our way through two or three mezedes and a like number of ouzos. The local Greek channel is usually playing, and though the service can be a bit gruff, it's never been enough to put us off. Some might call it charming.

Until we can get back to the Greek islands and conduct a proper survey of the country's national liqueur, Uncle Nick's selection of 12 different brands of ouzo is a solid substitute.

- New York Press