Amari - a Cretan Odyssey (Αμάρι)

The 2nd Symposium of Greek Gastronomy took place in the mountain hamlet of Amari, in the prefecture of Rethimno. I had heard so much about the Amari Valley, that it was one of the most beautiful and most unique areas in the whole of Crete; I live in what I would characterise as a beautiful area myself, so I felt that the opportunity given to me to go to Amari was a purposeful one - Amari is a place that would never have crossed my mind to visit unless there was a good reason to go there.

It looked quite easy on the map to get to Amari, although there seemed to be a number of roads that left to Amari. I chose what seemed like the shortest route. I never carry paper maps with me these days when I am driving through the island, since Google's maps are readily accessible on a mobile phone. Phone signals are usually quite strong, and most roads are well signposted.

Προβολή μεγαλύτερου χάρτη

The Google directions stated that the approximate time needed for this 92km drive was 1h and 38 minutes - it takes me just 5-10 minutes more to drive 138km to Iraklio (albeit on a straight road). Having never been to Amari before, I couldn't argue. I began my journey just before 7am on Sunday morning on the National Road, which is a clean wide motorway basically running the length of the island. 

At the point where I was supposed to turn off the motorway (just past the town of Rethimno), I found myself in what looked like a bumper-to-bumper traffic jam during the rush hour. Alas, there were roadworks, resulting in all sorts of diversions, which means that everything had been turned topsy turvy: the road lost its clean tidy look, it became precariously narrow, it stopped looking familiar, and worst of all, the signage was either seriously lacking, or it had been replaced by temporary signs which pointed to what looked like snail-like pathways leading off into dark unexplored territory.
As I was trying to keep my wits about me, and looking out for these temp signs, I suddenly saw the classic Greek blue road sign with the yellow writing, that I had been looking out for: AMARI--> But I was too late: I had practically driven right past the sign. So I just turned off at the next road which was unmarked and hoped that I would eventually find the right road. SO close and so far away...

The unknown path led me to what sounded like Platanias, a suburb near the town of Rethimno, where a taxi driver was dusting down his cab. Taxi drivers know everything most things, so I stopped in the middle of the road and got some directions, which sounded like turn left, Prasies, keep going, pass the gas stations, Prasies, go over the bridge, turn here, Prasies, then there Prasies, and don't worry, Prasies, it's all signposted, the last of which I did not believe. Yes, there were signs all over the place, but none mentioned Amari. For such a prominently displayed sign at the motorway exit, how on earth did Amari disappear from the map?

Very old stone wall - xerolithia - on the road to Amari

Prasies turned out to bear some significance after all, since there was indeed a sign directing people to Prasies, so I just turned into it. At any rate, there was no sign directing anyone to Amari, only to Prasies. It seemed like you would only be allowed to go to Amari if you went first to Prasies, as if you had to pay some kind of dues.

I remembered the name of the village Prasies from another drive through the prefecture of Rethimno. I had actually been close to Amari in the not too distant past. When the Fragma (an artificial lake) opened, we visited the area during the spring. It was one of the widest most empty spaces that I had ever visited in Crete. Very beautiful... yes, but very unique? No, not really, I had seen many places like this in other parts of Greece (as well as Hania, which is about to get its own artificial lake soon, in the Vatolakkos area). There was only one taverna in the area, where we sat after our visit.

Approaching the lake district, I noticed that the sole taverna where we had eaten was now also a 'zoo', a 'bird park' and a 'children's multi-space area'. Wherever there is a sight worth seeing in Greece, a taverna or cafe or bar or shop - any kind of money spinner - sprouts up out of nowhere, and some of those business seeds had been sown in the area. The taverna did not remind me of the traditional low-key eaterie we had visited over two years ago, and of course, it looked overly garish, as most hyped-up businesses in the middle of nowhere usually do; this is the only way that the locals know about how to get noticed.

One of the sprouting cafes I passed on my most recent trip through the Amari valley.

But who on earth would notice this place anyway, I wondered, as there were hardly any cars on the road from the moment I left the Rethimno area. Western Crete is known for its relatively high levels of sun-sea-sand tourism, but agro-tourism - while highly popular - is still struggling to work out its customer base. For people to come off the beaten track and get onto one which isn't very well signposted would be asking too much for the average tourist - they would need to be enticed here in more conventional ways. Passing trade here could only be described as a miracle waiting to happen: most of those businesses were built for exactly that, a snatch and grab chance to make a quick buck, and then, it's over.

While I was thinking that I was in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do or see except gorges, mountains and fields, the road narrowed suddenly, as a sign indicated just before I arrived here. I caught sight of a bridge of some sort. But what a bridge! It was built by the Venetians, and looked just like it belonged somewhere in the Italian countryside. Could I be in Tuscany right now, and not Crete? There was hardly any place to park on the edge of the road (you would still be in the middle of it), so I just carried on driving and didn't look back, just in case my curiosity turned me into a pillar of salt. I could feel myself running late already.

Part of the meal we had at the Fragma taverna in spring 2011.

The sight of that taverna (despite having morphed into a kids' zone) gave me a false sense of security, as I felt that I was on familiar territory, and I could feel Amari within my reach. But no sooner had I passed the taverna, that I came across a fork in the road that confused the living daylight out of me. And again, no signs. I felt lost, in the middle of nowhere, with no signs of any human being in sight, only a huge flock of sheep, some of the dumbest creatures I have come across in a long time. On hearing the car approaching, they looked up and stared at me before looking in front of them to see where all the other sheep were going. Then they followed them silently, each slow one by the other slow one, until, after what seemed like a lifetime, they had all moved off the road and let me pass.

A hotel in the middle of nowhere, swimming pool included!

I was going to stop anyway, to decide which road I would take, when along came a pick-up truck from the left tine of the fork which looked rather narrow, was down hill and led to what seemed like something dark and hidden. I was on the right tine. The driver of the truck gave me a long hard stare, which I later realised was common among the older locals in the area. They see more animals on most days than they do humans, so my appearance at that moment was somewhat of an oddity. He could tell I wasn't from his parts. Before I was about to ask him which road to take, he bet me to it and  asked me where I wanted to go. "Down here," he indicated to the road he had just sprouted from, "for the Fragma." In my misfortune of not really knowing where I was going, I was lucky to find this critter; for sure, I would have taken the other road which was wider and brighter, with a view of the open sky.

To arrive up here, you come from a road on much lower ground, a sign that you are entering a valley area.

As I made my way along the dark and windy roads, I wondered where the lake, which was built in a former valley, would appear. After what seemed like perpetual darkness on unnamed territory, I found myself driving onto an unkempt narrow road, which abruptly became just wide enough for one car to pass. Interestingly, that was signposted. What I was just about to pass over was a steep stretch of road, at the top of which appeared a dazzlingly blue shiny lake. It was the one place I felt like stopping at throughout the journey so far. Who wouldn't be tempted to stop here, lured by the sapphire colour of the waters. I continued driving, in search of my final destination, because I could not afford to lose time on the road. The Symposium started at 9am, and I was speaking at 10.30 - it was already 8.15 when I arrived at the lake.

The lake is directly in front of this sign - Amari is only 11 kilometres away from this point.

The driving was not so difficult now since there was only one road to take, with the lake beside me. I remembered the map: Amari can't be far away now, I thought to myself. Just keep on the road and drive directly, without turning off the the road... it must be somewhere here, despite the lack of signage. And all of a sudden, once again, I had a deja vu moment as I came across a junction which I remembered as the place where we had stopped the car to enjoy the lake views. I remembered this crossroad from the sign - but Amari was not listed and there was absolutely nothing in the area that would be able to tell me which road to take.

Just as I was wondering if I should continue along the lakeside, or take the road leading away from the lake, into the mountains, another car pulled up out of nowhere, laden with people. A papou was driving, with a yiayia next to him who was holding a toddler on her lap. The were two more children in the back seat, along with two young adults.

I think this is Amari village, viewed from the opposite hillside

"Where would you like to go to, young lady?" the papou asked me. "Pantanassa?" Pantanassa is a monastery, in a most fitting location. They were dressed in their Sunday best, so they were obviously going for the Sunday service.

"I want to go to Amari," I told them. The papou explained that I could take either road to get there, as if all roads here lead to Rome. The lakeside road was in a bad condition but it was the shorter of the two routes (9km away), while the higher road was longer (11km) but in a better condition.

"If you want, you can follow us," he said. "We're going to Panatanassa, and you can continue on to Apostoloi." No mention was made of Amari! But I felt safer this way, so naturally I followed him. The road would up and down again, as I drove through what felt like a gorge running through the mountains. Just before the church, I passed what looked like the entrance (or was it the exit?) to the famous St Antonios gorge, a place lush in greenery, with a cave in its midst which has been turned into a church. More temptations for me, that I would have to leave for a next time, although I could not imagine when that next time would come for me.

Amari village, view from the school

Just before the family turned off for Pantanassa, they showed me the road for Amari. "Would you like to come to the church before you go to Amari?" the yiayia asked me. "It's very beautiful. You can light a candle and kiss the icon before you continue to Amari." Not being particularly religious, I found it easy to say not to that one.

I couldn't be far away now, only perhaps another 4, 5, 6 or so kilometres... And still no sign of a sign for Amari, only for Apostoloi. And no wonder: when I reached Apostoloi, I found a village buzzing with life. The cafes were full of people enjoying the cool mountain air on this hot day in July - in fact, the whole area felt cool. Tucked away in the middle of the mountains and gorges and fields and narrow roads, in the midst of olive groves and grapevines, I found myself wanting to stop at the cafe and find out how long these people had been living here. There were people of all ages, including young children, both men and women. So have you felt the effects of the economic crisis? How often do you leave the village? What do you cook on a daily basis? Do you know how to get to Rethimno? This isolated community could not possibly have seen any homelessness, poverty or hunger near them, nor do they look as though they are about to migrate at any point in the near future. They've been here for pretty much ever, and that is the way it will probably stay.

Amari vilage, the kafeneio

Only five or so kilometres to go, and I encounter another fork on the road! To take the right fork this time, I turned back to the village I had just passed and asked someone, as it was unlikely that anyone would appear from here on to lead me to Amari. They directed me to take the lower road for the village Sxoli Asomaton, which would lead me to Amari. And still no sign whatsoever. I suppose no one needed a sign at this point to got to Amari. Who would come here anyway, except someone who already knows the place?  On my part, I was beginning to get tired of all this chasing up Amari. What will I find there once I get there?

Amari village, the school

And finally, a sign: AMARI--> 2 So I was only two kilometres away... I entered the village just before 9am, where I found myself directly in front of the village square. There was enough space for me to conveniently park my car. On the left was the former village school, a well-maintained building which also had a kitchen attached to it, a symbol of the importance of the village in former times. All roads led eventually to Amari. I later found out that most of my colleagues ended up arriving 2 1/2 hours after they started from Hania because they got much more lost than myself - for me to make it in less than 2 hours meant that I had done very well!

I had an old-fashioned biral (a fizzy drink popular in Crete, tasting kind of like Coca-Cola), made form Mt Ida water. Mt Ida is better know to us as Psiloritis, where it is said that Zeus, the king of the gods was born.

On that day, I did not get further than that village square. I had found Amari, and for me, that was enough for the time being. While I sorted out the business I had to attend to in Amari, my mind was on the return journey; I thought I had an idea of the temptations it had to offer, but I was wrong. On leaving the village, I relaised I had taken a different exit. A tiny tanned man was standing on the roadside, showing his crooked teeth, and wearing clothes that looked as though they were very old but had never been dirtied enough to need washing.

"Am I going OK for Rethmino?" I asked him.

"Sure," he said "you'll reach the village of Spili in a quarter of an hour from here."

Spili? I had visited that years ago, but I had not passed it this time round! My Odysseyan journey would not finish until I had arrived home. The next time I go to Amari, I will make sure to take a different route.

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Soft drinks (Αναψυκτικά)

Tune in every second day this week to see how we spent our family holiday in Central/Northern Greece.

Greeks are very regional when it comes to their food sources. Regionalism (τοπικισμός - topikismos, and the people τοπικιστές topikistes) is a source of pride. They like to eat/drink according to their own region's traditions and products. This may sound narrow-minded, or maybe even prejudiced, but I think it just shows how demanding Greeks are when it comes to making nutrition choices, even in what sounds like a simple choice concerning soft drinks.

 

Moving away from Coke and Sprite: a large range of  made-in-Greece soft drinks awaits you at cafes around the country. Click on the photo to enlarge it and read the accompanying notes.

We all know soft drinks are bad for you because they contain a lot of sugar, which makes you fat, while your teeth rot. That's a good reason to not keep them in the house when you have a young family. It's not kids' fault that they can't control their intake when soft drinks are easily available; we save soft drinks for party times and once-in-a-while when we feel like treating ourselves (try keeping them on a high shelf). During our recent summer trip, we treated ourselves more often than any other time. By ordering soft drinks at cafes and tavernas around Greece, we also became familiar with the variety of soft drinks available on the Greek market.

The local soft drinks companies in Hania: Temenia (left) and Gerani (right). Gazoza* is one of the most popular soft drinks served in Crete - it's a clear drink like Sprite, with a 'cream soda' taste. 

Soft drinks are produced by a number of different companies around Greece. Each soft drink company is regionally based and is drunk more in that area than other places around Greece. Tavernas in Hania, for example, always offer Gerani or Temenia soft drinks, usually alongside Coke and Sprite. Due to the high reputation of some of these regional soft drinks, they have travelled further afield. In particular, the soft drinks produced by EPSA, originating in Volos, and Loux, originating in Patras, are available in most supermarkets as well as many tavernas and cafes all over Greece, and they each offer a similar range of refreshments.

EPSA (above, in the coastal village of Horefto in Pilio) was widely available wherever we travelled. My favorite flavours are sour cherry, lemonade and lemon cola. The orange-ade isn't too bad, either (they sell it with or without 'gas', ie carbonated or not carbonated), and they also make gazoza, as does Loux. During our holiday, after leaving Ioannina, we stopped in Arta at a riverside cafe to have a drink under a huge oak tree by the old bridge, which is associated with the historical legend of the Protomastora (the Chief Builder - a cafe is named after him) and his wife's sacrifice: Ολημερίς το χτίζανε, το βράδυ εγκρεμιζόταν. Sadly, we didn't have enough time to visit Arta's castle ruins - the prefecture of Epirus is well worth a re-visit.

The most common soft drinks flavours are portokalada (orange-ade), lemonada (lemonade) and gazoza* (a clear soda-like drink tasting like a mixture of cream soda and Sprite). Vissino (sour cherry) is less commonly offered but often sold in supermarkets. A more unusual flavour in soft drink offered throughout Crete (but I don't think I've seen it anywhere else) is 'biral' (in Greek: μπυράλ), which has a cola flavour.


There is also another choice available in the form of old-fashioned cordial: fruit-based syrup mixed with water. When our orchards' orange season is over, we buy ΒΙΟΧΥΜ (VIO-HIM) orange cordial made in Hania. The same company produces a range of other mainly citrus syrups, such as mandarin, lemon and sour cherry, but orange is by far the most popular. ΒΙΟΧΥΜ orange concentrate is nearly always found in the cafes of Hania, especially in the small village kafeneia - ask for it by name. It's less sweet than pure orange juice, and you can water it down as much as you like.

A more unusual cordial is kanelada (cinnamon-ade), made of cinnamon sticks boiled in sugar and water. This is common in Eastern Crete (it's available occasionally in Western Crete). Soumada, made of almonds, was also a popular drink in the past; even though it rarely surfaces these days, these old-fashioned drinks are making a surprise comeback, given the emphasis these days on buying and eating Greek. Kanelada and soumada can be drunk cold or warm, like tea, depending on one's preference. Make sure you ask if the kanelada is alcoholic or not, because it may be confused with cinamon-infused raki!

During the 1st Symposium of Greek Gastronomy, fellow Greek food blogger Vicky Koumantou made some soumada, using almond puree. Not wishing to be wasteful and throw out the almond meal after using it to make the drink concentrate, she sweetened the mixture and filled some pastry rolls with it, which were then fried and dusted with sugar.

Finally, there are also plenty of choices in carbonated mineral water, αεριούχο νερό (aeriouho nero), all produced in Greece (click on the first photograph to enlarge it and read the accompanying notes). There's no need to ask for expensive imported stuff like San Pellegrino or Perrier, since you can get something more local and less mass-producced. Just ask the waiter which Greek-made 'aeriouho nero' they offer.

*** *** ***

As we were travelling in the summer, by far the most popular time of the year for foreign tourists to travel around Greece, we constantly needed a re-vitality boost. If you aren't keen on fizzy sugary drinks and prefer something more natural, there are also the following two possibilities to refresh yourself. For a start, local roadside springs offer cool refreshing tasty water, often straight from mountain sources - best of all, they are free.

If you prefer just plain old water, look out for a source of running water on the roadside - in mountainous areas, these sources supply clean cold refreshing drinking water; if there is a cafe nearby, you can be sure that the cafe is using that water to fill your glasses.

And in hot weather, instead of ordering a drink, why not order a spoon sweet (γλυκό του κουταλιού), like the ones being sold at almost all local-produce stalls? Most cafes have spoon sweets available, often home-made using local fruit, which are always served with a refreshing glass of cold water. Finally, there is the sugary children's favorite, something we call 'vanilla' or 'ipovrihio' (υποβρύχιο = submarine). Most cafes stock this - and not just for the kids!

I usually ordered a spoon sweet when we sat at cafes to refresh ourselves: vissino (sour cherry) on the left, and damaskino (plum - orange) and siko (fig - green) on the right. Below: ipovrihio, vanilla-flavoured sweet.
 

If I were a foreign tourist in Greece, I'd want to believe I got a taste of Greece wherever I went, and not just some globally inspired tourist food. You just need to know the correct way of asking for what you want.

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*Wikipedia states: "In Greece, the term Gazoza is used to refer to clear lemon-lime soft drinks such as 7-Up or Sprite. This term, however, has become outdated. Today, in everyday speech, soft drinks are referred to as 'anapsyktika' (αναψυκτικά), which means 'refreshers'." I need to add this to my next round of myths and legends revolving around Greek cuisine: 'gazoza' is still used in many places (Crete, for sure); if you simply ask for an 'anapsiktiko', you will be asked to state which flavour you want, but if you say 'gazoza', you will be given a clear soda-like drink. 

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Beer (Μπύρα)

Banking magnate Uncle X , greatly admired by his nieces and nephews once removed, was visiting from London just recently. He had a wonderful idea for positively encouraging my children's mathematical skills, by teaching them how to play an entertaining game.

"OK, so here's how we play the game: one of us has to - we take it in turns, OK, everyone will get a chance to do this, but I'll start just to show you how to play it, OK? So, we think of a number between 0 and 100, and - no, don't say it out loud, it's supposed to be a secret, OK? So you think of a number, and you don't tell anyone, you just keep it in your head, and everyone else - you can't remember it? OK, you can use a mobile phone and write it on the display - you don't have a mobile phone, do you? Well, we can write it down, but... you can't let anyone see it. Oh, I know, how about a calculator, you must have one of those, right? OK, so you can punch your number into your calculator display and once you've done that, everyone else has to try to guess what number you were thinking of. No, it isn't too difficult, because when we guess - no, not yet, I haven't thought of my number yet, OK? We take it in turns to guess and - OK, OK, you can go first and your sister - well we can't both start first, can we, so let's just say the oldest starts first, OK? And when you take a guess, then - no, don't guess now, I haven't thought of my number yet, I'm STILL EXPLAINING THE GAME TO YOU, OK? OK. So. Are we ready? Good. So when you tell me your guess, I say 'higher' or 'lower', and the next person will know to guess a higher number or a lower number, OK?"

As I watched my children interacting with Uncle X, I marveled at his bachelor's patience with their incessant squeals and constant interruptions. Being a banker, he must love numbers, I thought, but where did he gain this intuition to interact with children in a mathematical way?

"Who do you play this game with?" I asked innocently, hoping to acquire some information about his love life; to my knowledge, he had not sired any offspring himself, so maybe his latest girlfriend was a single mother.

"It's a pub game," he replied.

"A pub game?"

"Yeah, every time you answer incorrectly, you have to down a pint."

So that explains it, OK?

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Fortezza Cafe (Φορτέτσα)

The old harbour at Hania is not just one of the most alluring points in the town; it is THE most alluring, and although there are other port towns on the island (Rethymno and Iraklio) which all have stone-built piers jutting out into the sea, none has a lighthouse. The 'faros' of Hania was renovated two years ago; the last time it was renovated before then was by the ruling Arabs in the early 1820s, after the fall of the Ottoman empire.

The best time to come and sit at the harbour is in the evening when you can see the sun set behind the lighthouse in a pastel-coloured sky, enjoying the cool breezy early evening air.

The atmosphere of the old Venetian port is very cosmopolitan. The mix of locals, economic migrants and tourists, all mingling amongst each other peacefully, combines the European ideals of a pluralistic society, conveying the sense that life has always been like this, which of course, is far from the case. After the fall of the Minoan empire and the hellenisation of Crete via the Dorians, Crete has been invaded and conquered by the Romans (west), the Byzantines (east), the Venetians (west again) and the Ottomans (east again), finally gaining its independence in the late 1800s. Greece has always been referred to as a country where the East meets the West.

It's hard to keep a look out for pirates and invaders when you've got this view on the other side of the harbour...

The air is crisp and salty as the ocean waves crash onto the rocks below the defence walls. The view is breathtaking. The pretty box-like pastel-coloured houses line the harbour, hiding the urban sprawl of the modern town behind it. The mountains give the scene depth. As the evening descends, the city lighting creates an air of romance, which at times is rudely interrupted by blaring rock music from the clubs that line the waterfront.

As the sun sets, the harbour changes colour, from soft pastel hues to solid dark shades. The harbour offers a wealth of possibilities for photography at this time of the day.

The history of the old harbour can be recounted simply by pointing out the old buildings. The Turkish mosque (top: left hand side) and the old ship yards (bottom: centre of photo) are now used as function halls and exhibition centres.

The various conquests over the island's sovereignty have left behind a wealth of variety in the town's architecture. Towards the east are a few remaining shipping sheds from the Venetian period. The water’s edge was further inland, and these old sheds were once used to build and renovate ships. These buildings serve as reminders of Hania’s wealthy history. In between these focal points are low lying pastel coloured buildings, now used as souvenir shops, hotels, restaurants, bars and cafes, setting the ambience of this picturesque corner in the middle of the Mediterranean.

The walk out to the pier gives you the sense that you are in the middle of the sea.

The pier leading to the lighthouse is accessible to anyone who wishes to walk out to it, and it's worth the short trip. Once you reach the lighthouse, you’ll feel as if you’re in the middle of the ocean watching out for insurgents and invaders through the holes in the pier’s walls, which once fired cannonballs at all the intruders.

A raft boat service takes you out to the cafe, but the walk along the pier is also worthwhile.

The remains of the old guard house in the middle of the pier make a great viewing point, providing one of the coolest spots in the harbour after sunset. The Fortezza Café operates at this point, where you can enjoy a cool drink (and some fast food served ever so slowly), as you listen to the waves crashing onto the rocks below.

Sometimes, the food is simply NOT important.

If you’re not up to walking back to the harbour, you can always take the little raft boat service (provided by the café) that will cruise you back to terra firma in just a little over a minute. It’s a pity that the boat ride is so short because you really don’t want the night to end so quickly.

If you only have five minutes to spend at the Venetian port of Hania, make sure it's at sunset. This will ensure that you'll be back, this time to stay longer.

Cost of walk: free; boat trip: leave a donation; 1 Corona, 1 cold barrel beer, club sandwich and small pizza: 20 euro, shared among four people.

UPDATE: Fortezza Cafe no longer operates - no more boat ride, no more drinks on hot summer evenings...

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Home-made lemonade (Σπιτική λεμονάδα)

My aunt has just become a great-grandmother for the second time, to a baby boy living many miles away from her in New Zealand. The internet has made those miles seem like a short bus ride across town; I passed on to her some photos of the new addition to the family.

"Let me make you a coffee," she said to me, to which I passed, because it was early morning and I had just had my caffeine fix at home. Coffee can be a personal thing: some people (like myself) can only have a coffee the way they like it made, which is why I like to make it myself.

"Then have a lemonade," she said, getting up to fetch it for me. (If anyone thinks I need a new camera, donations are most welcome).

"I'll get it myself," I answered.

"Look for the Coke bottle on the fridge door," she instructed, as if I didn't know where it was. I've had many lemonades in that house for me to know exactly where to look for it. In fact, I once made some of this refreshing lemonade syrup for my family, according to my aunt's recipe. They weren't too keen on it, unfortunately, preferring to drink the readily available (and much sweeter) fresh natural orange juice straight from our trees. This is fair enough; my sweet tooth is less demanding than theirs (I don't expect otherwise from children). I was also scolded by my husband for using up all the precious lemons to make something that needs added sugar to make it potable. This is why I don't make lemonade at home any more - that, and also because I usually drink it all myself, in which case, I may as well stick to orange juice or water.

Lemonade syrup is really quite easy to make. The tastiest version is when the lemons are tangy rather than sour, and the whole lemon has been used to get as much flavour out of the fruit and into the syrup as possible. I like to grate the zest of the lemons, then juice them, and throw in the whole fruit into the saucepan with the sugar and water to boil up altogether. The cooled strained syrup is then bottled and stored in the fridge. To make a glass of refreshing lemonade, a few tablespoons of this syrup are placed in a glass, and cold water is poured on top, with a few ice cubes and a sprig of mint for the final visual effect.

As Delia Smith says, "there are a million and one commercial versions, but nothing can compare with the flavour of fresh lemons made into lemonade." And there are also a million versions of storable lemonade syrup for making refreshing lemonade in the summer which you can browse over the internet: some are for storing as a syrup, others are for drinking once you make it, as well as some single serves for those of us whose family doesn't appreciate home-made lemonade. And if you're interested in making something totally different, but equally refreshing, The Nicest Woman in the World™ once served me some kanelada, a drink often served up in Eastern Crete, which Mariana made recently.

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Banana chocolate lassi (Ρόφημα με μπανάνα)

I loved milkshakes when I was young, like my kids do now. I had no idea what went into them, but they sounded healthy because they had the word 'milk' in them. I stopped drinking milk for breakfast form a very young age, so I though I was doing myself a favour to have a milk-based drink; good for my bones, I would get myself to believe. We all know what lured me to them: they contain generous amounts of sugar and fat-based products, so that their taste is nothing like milk, and more like high-calorie addictive junk food. Do strawberry milkshakes really contain strawberries? If it's winter, strawberries will have to be imported (and therefore increase CO2 omissions), so it's going to be expensive, not to mention wasteful, to make. What about a banana milkshake? If it comes particularly yellow in colour, then it doesn't contain banana - banana flesh is creamy white, not yellow.

So what does go into a milkshake? For a start, the invention of milkshakes goes hand-in-hand with the progress in technology; no matter how hard or long you beat milk, cream, butter or ice-cream, you'll never get the lump-free smooth creamy consistency of a milkshake unless you use some kind of machine to do it. So milkshakes, unlike their name suggests, are an artificial drink. Milkshakes always contain a thickening agent like flour. The addition of (high amounts of) sugar also thickens liquids. Ice-cream is an easy option for making milkshakes, because it contains all the ingredients needed to make one: sugar and dairy products (not necessarily milk or cream), plenty of sugar and thickening agents like fat and flour. Worst of all, think how many scoops you need to fill a tall glass, as milkshakes are traditionally served in. Wouldn't you have been better off having one scoop of your favorite ice-cream rather than one milkshake? Although they had always been a treat in my youth - I don't think I have had more than a couple of dozen of them in my whole life - I stopped having them permanently once I became highly weight-conscious. My 5-year-old's having his second chocolate milkshake in his life so far.

Talking about milkshakes, why not try the lassi version instead? The Indian lassi drink is very popular these days. It's so much more trendy to say you're having a lassi than a milkshake. But it's the same thing, really, it's a milk-based shake. We've all heard of mango lassi. It was invented in a third world country, it is not a technology-based food item, and mango was the first fruit to be associated with it. But let's face it, we don't all live in countries where mangos are widely grown. Our mango tree produced just two this year, so I couldn't expect to make mango lassi the whole summer long. So why not try making lassi - or smoothie, call it what you like - with any readily avaialble fruit with a thick consistency similar to that of mango? A cheap and common alternative, despite its undesirably high level of carbon footprints required to get it to our fruit baskets, is the humble banana. I had a couple of over-ripe bananas in the house, the type that grow black spots on their skin, despite having no blemishes in their flesh. Beauty is only skin deep, but my children are too young to understand that, whereas my husband is too childish to believe it; he also scoffs at black-spotted bananas. Here's what I made with one. I did use a blender, because it makes life easier. But if the banana is really ripe, you can mash it up using a fork (I suppose).

You need:
a ripe banana
1/2 cup low-fat milk
1/3 cup thick yoghurt (of course I used Greek strained yoghurt, but if you can't get that, try using more yoghurt than milk to get the right consistency)
1 teaspoon of honey (or more if you have a sweet tooth)
2 teaspoons cocoa (or children's chocolate milk powder - this is optional; I add it to make a more child-friendly version of a milkshake)
Make sure the banana, milk and yoghurt are very cold. Put all the ingredients into the blender. Blend till the banana leaves no lumps in the mixture. Pour into a tall glass. A straw helps.

©All Rights Reserved/Organically cooked. No part of this blog may be reproduced and/or copied by any means without prior consent from Maria Verivaki.

MORE HEALTHY SNACKS:
Banana cake muffins
Apple cake
Carrot cake muffins
Chocolate walnut pancakes
Kalitsounia
Ladenia pizza
Marathopites
Prasopita
Fruit crumble
Sfakianes pites
Spanakopita
Tiropitakia
Dakos rusk
Corn fritters