Barbecue

The last time I went into a LIDL supermarket branch in my town, after paying for my purchases at the cashier with my credit card (LIDL Greece used to accept only cash in the recent past, but I guess old dogs do learn new tricks after all), I was given a voucher to take part in a draw for five 'lucky' winners (from all over Greece, mind you) who would get their liquid heating fuel paid for that year. All I had to do was fill in my details on the ticket. Since we aren't using liquid fuel for heating any more, I offered my voucher to the person standing behind me in the queue.

 

 The picturesque character of this scene relies on keeping olive trees trimmed, so that their shape and size makes it suitable to harvest the fruit efficiently.

"Oh, I don't need it either," she said to me. "We've got a fireplace." We both laughed, and I offered it to the next person. Same thing; I don't know who got it in the end, and it really doesn't matter anyway; the point is to show how useless prizes can be, and how cut-throat competition is between supermarkets.

It sounds 'obscene' (as one reader put it) that "(a) in the 21st century we're burning trees for heat, and (b) in Greece, land of the burnt-our-arsoned countryside, we would actually deliberately burn our last trees for short-term benefits". To put it bluntly, it also sounds absurd that this is what Greek citizens have been reduced to - burning anything flammable just to keep warm. The greenest and most noble among us will be burning nothing and keeping warm by wearing coats under our blankets (this is not a joke; it's quite true, no matter how difficult to believe it may sound). Calling Greeks arsonists is not far from the very common habit of the mass media depicting Greece as a country full of lazy, cheating, violent, rude, racist, tax-evading, troublemaking, thieving vandals, all part of the latest trend in 'crisis pornography'; η κρίση πουλάει, as we say in Greek.

Long branches of olive trees with many twiggy tops (known as φούντες - tufts) make up the bulk of what is burnt on the field. Only logfire wood is marketable. Olive leaves are also used as fertiliser, but the twigs and branches do not have further use in Crete at the moment (they may eventually  be worked into pellets for pellet-burning heaters). It is too costly to remove them for burning elsewhere and they are difficult to dispose. But they need to be cleared from the field because olive trees need regular trimming - things grow quickly in Crete.

Olive wood burns very easily, so once a fire starts up in an olive field, it could easily get out of control if not watched properly. But lighting fires in olive groves is actually very common all over Crete. As long as there is no wind, a fire can be contained easily. The remains of a clearance come in as useful cooking apparatus: the barbecue. Pork steaks are the bbq meat of choice in Greece. Lamb chops are much more expensive, and beef is never seen on a Greek barbecue. Barbecues nearly always consist of charcoal - gas barbecues are simply not very common. The wood-scented aroma of the meat is particularly fragrant - and very tempting.

When my husband clears wood from the field, he thinks it is a waste not to use the remains of the fire. It's a perfect time for pork steaks and sausages.

You need: 
the charcoal embers of an open fire 
a folding barbecue grill that holds meat securely 
a rake
some rocks 
heat-resistant gloves
4 pork steaks
4 sausages
2 lemon halves 
salt, pepper and oregano

 

Place the rocks on the ground and rake the embers between them. Make sure there are no flames. Secure the meat and sausages in the grill. Rub the grill on both sides with the lemon halves. Place the grill on the rocks above the embers. Sprinkle salt, pepper and oregano over the meat. Wearing heat-resistant glove, check the meat and turn when it is cooked on one side. Season the meat on the other side and cook till done. 
 

If it's warm enough, you can stay at the field and picnic around the fire. We just made it back to the car when it began raining heavily just after the meat was cooked. At any rate, our olive grove is located on a hill and there is just enough standing room on the terraces where the olive trees are rooted. Not very comfortable - one wrong move and you could end up rolling down.

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Aryiroupoli (Αργυρούπολη)

Deep in the heart of Crete lie mountainous regions which divide the northern part with the southern part. These mountains are the main reason why Crete has remained so undeveloped in the greater part. There are little villages nestled in the folds of these ranges which do not form part of the known tourist routes. Located away from the sea, they are little known and hardly accessible to the tourists, as bus routes do not go there.

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The Argiroupoli Springs are located just beyond the Prefecture of Hania, in the Lappa region of Rethimno.

When the signs on the road begin to welcome you into the Prefecture of Rethimno, turn right at the village of Episkopi, and don't stop till you find the sign for the Argiroupoli Springs. This village doesn't give away.

As you drive into the area, you will notice that it is quite arid looking; the roadside is filled with tinder dry grasses. This is surprising given the spring waters which the area contains. Lush vegetation is found where these waters spill over man-made waterfalls, but the fields close by all look as though they need to be irrigated. The residential areas lack a canopy of trees, leaving their rooftops exposed to the harsh summer heat.

The dry grasses on the roadside do not point to any water source.

Google 'Aryiroupoli Rethimno' (using various spellings of both words) and you'll find lots of information about the significance of the area - something about an ancient site called Lappa, created by Agamemnon, allies with Knossos, and of special significance in Roman and Byzantine times. Some very important archaeological digs have taken place here, but this is not the crowd puller nowadays: Aryiroupoli is popular with locals and tourists (who hire a car or come on coach trips) for its natural springs. The water has been routed to create mini-waterfalls, around which tavernas have been built, bringing in the crowds right throughout the spring, summer and autumn (in the winter, it is too cool to sit so close to the water). This phenomenon makes Aryiroupoli a cool retreat in contrast to baking under the sun on a hot sandy beach (which is only less than a quarter of an hour away from the village).

All the restaurants in the area use the spring waters to raise trout, which can be ordered freshly cooked on the grill. We managed to secure the best position near the waterfall.

On a hot day, you just want to be near the water. The Aryiroupoli springs are an off-the-beaten-track alternative to the sea and sand culture of a Cretan summer holiday.
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The tavernas serve mainly local traditional meals. The Rethimno area - and most of Eastern Crete - is known for its use of an upright barbecue grill, known as 'antikristo' in Greek, used to roast lamb and pork (I much prefer the traditional grill myself - the meat needs longer cooking time on the antikristo and the fire creates excess heat in an excessively hot summer atmosphere). Another specialty of the area is freshly grilled trout (the combined smells of meat and fish can be off-putting); the springs run into catchment tanks where trout is bred exclusively for the tavernas.

The antikristo barbecue grill isn't commonly seen in Hania; it's a specialty of most other parts of Crete.

Kokoretsi (offal wrapped round intestines and grilled on the spit) was on the menu of Ellanion Fos Taverna where we chose to sit, perfectly positioned by the waterfalls. Vlita (amaranth) is the summer horta variety. It's a healthier alternative to the common Greek salad. We chose kalitsounia (those Rethimniotes were trying to pass them off for mizithropites) drizzled with honey for dessert.

We also ordered a serving of antikristo lamb (sorry about the photo) and stuffed bifteki.

We were entertained by a Romanian musical troupe who was touring the area, going from one taverna to the other. They must have had insider knowledge of the area (not to mention transport facilities) to know where the crowds were today. They played three songs, then went round the tables collecting donations in the tambourine .



Take a look at the burly black-shirted chap (the taverna owner) in the foreground. He has the typical Cretan looks: height and bulk, dark facial features with piercing blue eyes, premature grey hair. Compare him with a couple of other typical looking Cretans: my dad and Alex.

Be sure to get to the area early for prompt service without too many hassles, as most Greeks like to arrive at the same time just after 1pm, slowing down service considerably after that point. We beat the rush and ate our lunch leisurely over two hours, leaving just after two o'clock, the time when the hordes of Athenian travellers who had just begun their summer holidays were arriving (as well as two double-storeyed coaches), creating a traffic jam in the narrow windy streets of the village. We had parked at the entrance to the village, knowing well what we would find if we tried to park right outside the taverna, a common Greek trait (to secure a parking spot right outside the place you want to go, especially since Greeks have a love affair with their four wheeled possessions). No one could move forward or back at that point, bringing a bit of chaos to the place, but we wouldn't be Greeks if we didn't live up to the meaning of the word; after all, we invented it, didn't we?

For the four of us, we ordered a serving each (for two) of antikristo lamb and kokoretsi, stuffed bifteki, two servings of fried potatoes, vlita salad, fried cheese pies (mizithropites) with honey, 2 tap beers (plus 2 more) and 2 lemonades. Cost - 48 euro (we couldn't eat it all in one go, so we took the leftovers home).

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Biodiversity (Βιοποικιλότητα)

I recently saw some very pretty grasses that had flowered growing in the ditch that runs alongside the border of the garden and the cemented pathway next to our house. I had never come across these silvery green sprays with a slight purple tinge to them. Despite their short stature, they stood proudly against the dry brown soil like tiny fir trees; how on earth they managed to escape my husband's notice is a mystery to me, as they had been there for quite some time. He has a knack of meticulously clearing every unwanted scrap of foliage (ie weed) in the garden as he has a great intolerance for anything growing that isn't useful or edible. This is where I differ with my other half in how we view our garden. If he had his own way, he would turn me into a champion weed exterminator; if I had mine, we'd be eating them...

The top two grasses are common in our garden...

... but the silvery green one with the purple tinge (only about four samples are visible in this photo) growing amongst the celery had never been there before. Its progenitors probably arrived with the grass cutter and tilling equipment which we had borrowed from a neighbour to prepare the soil for planting our summer vegetables.

I thought about photographing this pretty spray that nature bestowed on us; sooner or later, it would dry up and I wouldn't see it again till next year. I also began noticing many other short flowering grasses growing in clumps here and there in different parts of the garden: in the cracks of the cement pathway, in amongst the artichoke bushes where they are safely guarded by this plant's thorny leaves, and lots of different ones in the ditch where wastewater catches. They all looked common, but every single one was different; no two were even barely alike. There were single ear husks, fern-like sprays, frilly clumps, stalky reeds, bushy tresses, and a myriad other kinds of grasses. None stood out so much as the one that caught my eye in the first place. If they were collected and artistically arranged into a bouquet, they would have made a marvellous backdrop to the most brilliant coloured roses.

I saved a few of my favorite grasses and put them in a wine pitcher, along with the pretty purple flowers of the maroulides horta.

Alas, I put off photographing them until it was too late, and his roving eyes did eventually catch sight of them. The last time I saw them, they were lying in a heap of unwanted grasses and weeds waiting to be discarded. Into the compost heap, I hear you say, but no, they weren't even given this dignity. "We don't want them seeding next year, too, do we?" was his response.

*** *** ***

Biodiversity is being compromised in the case of some species of grasses and wildflowers, especially the ones that do not have a culinary or medicinal reputation. Their past uses are becoming more and more obscure with the advent of modern technology in both fields, even though nearly all species have some kind of interesting folkloric history.

Kalokoimite in Kiriakoselia found growing in a rubbish heap.

This soft furry plant is known as καλοκοιμιτέ (kalokimoite; Ballota pseudodictamus). It is easily confused with malotira, an endemic Cretan mountain tea. It's a rare plant that is on the list of endangered species. It has little use in modern times, which is probably why it is endangered, but in the past, it served two purposes: its flowers were sought out by honey bees, and shepherds used these bushes as mattresses, to sleep on when they were spending a day in the field looking after grazing sheep. Kalokimite is a smooth furry-leaved plant with no thorns, making it a perfect bush to lie on and catch forty winks, without worrying that you'll wake up with back ache. Nowadays, 'shepherds' use their 4x4 pick-up trucks with reclining seats for this purpose.

Hikers and nature lovers may still find some use for it if they know how to recognise it. Just don't pull it out of the ground - find a shady spot where it is growing, leave it where it is, and lie on it. When you get up, the soft supple stalks will regain their original form, and their flowers and seeds will be able to reproduce in the next season.

Agarathia in Kiriakoselia

Agarathia (Phlomis fruticosa) is beautiful to look at and soft to touch. It has a woody base, and was often used in the past as a fire starter. It looks like sage - it is also known as Jerusalem sage - but it isn't used for any culinary purposes. Its downy thornless leaves look as though the plant could serve as a soft mattress, just like kalokoimite; if you do just that, you're bound to wake up after your snooze under the warm Mediterranean sky with an eye infection. For this reason, it was regarded as an undignified plant, and was often uprooted when it grew among other more highly regarded ornamental plants such as jasmine, as this old Cretan adage tells us:
Κρίμα σ'εσένα γιασεμί, κρίμα σε σένα ρόδο (Pity on you, jasmine, pity on you rose)
να βάλεις στην αγκάλη σου, τσ'αγκαραθιάς τον κλώνο. (to be found hugging a branch of agarathia)

This is also the reason why it has become an endangered species; it is one of the first shrubs to go when land is being cleared for more purposeful uses. Its brilliant yellow flowers could easily win a flora beauty contest, but another Cretan saying tells us that beauty is only skin deep:
"Μη μου ψηλοπετάς ετσά αγκαραθιάς το κλώνο, (Don't make airs at me, you branch of agarathia)
και βασιλιάς δεν γίνεται αυτός που θα σε πάρει." (the one who marries you doesn't become a king)

Agarathia is regarded as a symbol of hopelessness:
"Έθησαν, άνθισαν οι αγκαραθιές (The agarathies came, they bloomed)
κι'έκανα κολοκύθια." (and they produced zucchinis)

Poor agarathia, the locals have really got it in for them!

Aspalathos in Kiriakoselia

Ασπάλαθος (aspalathos, Calicotome vilosa) is a thorny plant native to Crete. Once all the leaves and flowers dried up and fell off the branches, the locals would collect the thorny remains and turn them into a broom to sweep their yards and floors with; the thorns are tied up in bunches onto a long wooden stick. This plant would also be used as a cover on olive and wine urns (similar to the thorny remains of stamnagathi), to stop insects and other small fauna from crawling into them. In the past when people didn't wear shoes all the time (saving their only pair for special ocassions), the soles of their feet were so hard that it was said they couldn't feel the thorns of the aspalathos even if they were walking on it.

Near St Mamas Church, at Kiriakoselia

This shrub has one of the most putrid smells a small tree can have; when the leaves are rubbed between the fingers, it stinks like burning rubber. But it was known to the locals for one thing: the effusion from boiling its leaves can make a soothing remedy for hemorrhoids. This may have been a more common ailment associated with diet in the past. This plant may be one of the herbal remedies listed on this page, but then again it may be something completely different.

Drakontia, also known as arapis ('the Arab', meaning 'black'), in my neighbourhood

When I first came to Hania, I came across this lily, and fell in love with it immediately. With its deep purple colour and impressively patterned leaves, I thought it would make a beautiful centrepiece. My aunt took one look at it and screamed in horror: "Get it out of here!" I quickly discovered that, despite its unique appearance, drankontia (the dragon flower) is so stinky and toxic that not even animals will touch it, which shows how much cleverer they are than the uninitiated human being. Flies are its pollinators: the flower traps them overnight so that they can perform this job; maybe they serve as temporary fly traps in orchards, allowing the trees to maintain their health.

It's amazing what will grow back on its own in one patch of soil...

... even after it was totally destroyed by fire.

... which brings me to my final point about biodiversity: just leave everything where you find it, as everything has its own place in the order of things. The humble blade of grass is not as simple as it looks: after thousands of years of evolution, it evolved into ears of corn and husks of wheat.

A common grassy weed: an ancient ancestor of corn and wheat

With the passage of time and the rapid rate of technological innovation, biodiversity is being lost due to the lesser perceived usefulness of certain species, which, in fact, given time, might even evolve into something more useful.

The vikos (Vicia sativa; above) is used as animal feed, but is directly related to the pea (Pisum sativa; below) that we eat; they are both members of the Vicieae (vetch) tribe in the plant kingdom, resulting from the subtle evolutionary differences that distinguish them from one another. The vikos (vetchweed) was found in our field; peas are becoming more and more popular as a simple crop to grow in the garden.

Human beings use only 20 plant species to provide 90% of their food needs, which is a tiny fraction of the edible plants in the world (Plants for a future, Ken Fern, 2000). In the future world where plants will be grown not only for food but also for fuel, biodiversity may be the key to abundance.

Thanks to the Herbarium at the Mediterranean Agronomic Institute of Chania whose staff assisted me by providing me with advice and pointing me in the right direction of reading material, which I've shared with you in this post.

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Spring picnic (Ανοιξιάτικο πικ-νικ)

Spring spreads a little colour among the evergreen foliage that covers Crete year-round. The wildflowers spray all the colours of the rainbow on the verdant carpet of the fields, even if only temporarily; when the temperatures begin soaring, everything dries up and only the brown stalks will remain. To enjoy the biodiversity of spring time in Crete, you need to seize the moment; what better way than to take your lunch to a field on a sunny day.

Wildflowers in Fournes village

Picnicking in Greece isn't common. In fact, I've never seen anyone lying on the grass, except for foreign migrant workers, who don't have anywhere else to sit and have their coffee when they're doing roadworks or working in fields. And if we didn't have olive groves and orange orchards of our own, we would probably also never go on picnics.

Our picnic spot was our own olive grove with a panoramic view of the village of Fournes, but this was no picnic...

My husband owns an olive grove in the village of Fournes. During spring, he leaves the house early on a Saturday morning to burn off the massive amounts of tree prunings that collect over the year and can't be used as firewood - small branches, twigs, dry leaves and other matter - that are blocking up the pathways leading to the olive trees. These trees were planted on a steep incline at the turn of last century by his great grandparents' family, but were burnt to the ground in a massive fire about 20 years ago. Once the fire broke out, it did not take long for the trees to become completely destroyed; due to its oil content, olive burns rapidly once ignited. Even though the fire was contained quickly, the damage was extensive. The properties that were destroyed were all owned by members of the same extended family.

Amidst his misfortune in suffering a massive drop (at the time) in his annual income from the sale of the olive oil produced from these trees - the field contained 200 productive trees and produced 3 tonnes of olive oil annually - it was also a matter of luck that the fire was NOT caused accidentally by another farmer burning tree cuttings. During a heatwave, a short circuit occurred in the regional electrical grid in the area, causing a fire to break out in some olive groves in the village of Fournes, Hania. This was proven by a long-winding court case, which eventually compensated each owner (ten years later) for the destroyed olive fields, the amount designated by taking into account the value of the field, each tree on the field (my husband had to dig up each and every root to prove that there really was a tree growing there, using even the remnants of black plastic mesh that had somehow escaped the fire's heat) and the amount of annual income losses from the oil produced.

The trees eventually grew back, albeit with one major drawback: their stems were producing wild olives (unift for human consumption). They needed to be pruned back and cleared of all the other foliage, weeds and shrubs that were growing around their roots before they would start producing olives for eating and producing oil. With a heavy heart, my husband began clearing, one-by-one, as many trees as were needed to provide his family with their yearly olive oil needs. Needless to say, this was a monumental task, taking at least ten years to complete; only about a third of the field has been rejuvenated, but that's how much we need to maintain our provisions. It was and still is a traumatic experience whenever he goes to this field; even the mention of this dark period still brings back vivid memories in his mind of the phone call from his cousins ("The village is on fire"), the sight of the hill burning as he approached the village, and the devastating consequences he had to face in the aftermath, as well as the personal grief it caused his family.

After burning the tree prunings, we used the ashes as a makeshift barbecue.

Olive groves need a massive amount of maintenance, something very difficult to do if the owner is employed in another sector outside agriculture. The trees need to be pruned, the paths need to be cleared of excess cuttings, and the waste wood that cannot be turned into firewood (we give to relatives who have fireplaces) needs to be burned off. Once the wood has become ashes, it's a pity to waste the perfect setting for a barbecue, even if the ground is covered with thorny plants and sharp rocks. At least the children have finally learnt to walk up and down these hills and have also stopped crying every time they are stung by a thistle...

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