Bonus post: More 'Greek' yoghurt

Today's post deals with yoghurt labelling outside Greece. Another reader sent me more photos, this time from the opposite US coast, of 'Greek' yoghurt being sold in her local supermarket.


Note the prices, my friend said.

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It's all Greek to them (Είναι όλα Κινέζικα γι' αυτούς)

Understandably, Greeks don't say "It's all Greek to me'; they say it sounds Chinese, which of course also carries the figurative meaning these days of 'fake'.

One of the themes I explored in my presentation on Greek Cuisine, Greek Identity and the Economic Crisis at the 2nd Symposium of Greek Gastronomy: Food, Memory and Identity was the significance of Greek food in international trade, and just what kind of Greek identity these foods actually carried. One of the most controversial topics concerning the identity of a Greek food product is - of course - no surprise! - the infamous Greek(-style) yoghurt, the yoghurt that Greeks never call 'Greek'; we call it strained yoghurt. Around the world's supermarkets, mainly where the Greek diaspora lives, but not confined to the main cities of the Greek diaspora, we see labels on plastic pots proclaiming that their yoghurt is Greek. But there are now court rulings in both the UK and the US against the use of the phrase 'Greek yoghurt' if the product is not found to be appropriately 'Greek' enough; the use of the phrase 'Greek style' is acceptable, but even then, how Greek(-style) is that stuff that being sold in the plastic tub?

My NZ aunt carried some home-made sweets in this tub when she visited Crete recently. Greek yoghurt, as the term is used abroad, is supposedly what Greeks call strained yoghurt. Strained yoghurt is NEVER easy-pour, and you certainly wouldn't place it ON muesli (you would place MUESLI ON strained yoghurt).  

Well, that dairy product in the plastic tub is probably about as Greek as the buyer wants it to be: we eat what we think we want to be eating, and when we buy that pottle of 'Greek-(style) yoghurt', we think we're eating Greek yoghurt. And if I happened to be coming along, and someone showed me the pot of 'Greek-(style) yoghurt' that they were eating from, and they told me "I'm eating Greek yoghurt", I'd say "Glad you like it."

I don't eat much strained yoghurt, because it's a little too thick; once little bowl feels like a full meal. I like to have yoghurt as an evening meal with some honey drizzled over it (which adds calories to it) and/or some fruit (more calories, no matter how good it is for you). But I much prefer the non-strained yoghurt sold in clay pots made from sheep's milk - now, that stuff is to die for, seriously. It's less fattening (so I can have it with some honey drizzled over it without feeling guilty), and as you take some yoghurt out of the clay pot, the remaining yoghurt in the pot strains itself slowly over time, so that you can see a build-up of whey waters in the clay pot as the yoghurt ages. So it eventually becomes a little strained, although it starts off its life much creamier than strained yoghurt. So my favorite Greek yoghurt is not actually of the kind labelled 'Greek-(style) yoghurt' abroad, but a locally made yoghurt. But when visitors come to Greece, and they try this yoghurt, they think "That's not the Greek yoghurt I'm used to eating."

Well, it's not the 'Greek' yoghurt they know, for sure. Their Greek yoghurt comes in different packaging; it may be sporting the Olympic crown of olive branches,

or the well-known lettering of ancient Greek writing,

or maybe a bit of a Doric column,

or maybe none of the above, simply bearing the word 'Greek', with a hint of 'organic' for good measure.

But whatever it is, it's got to be 'Greek' because 'Greek' sells well these days. So whether it's Turkish or American, it's still Greek to most people, even though it isn't made in Greece, nor is it made from Greek milk* or by Greek people.

Τι τσομπάνης, τι βοσκός - it's all γρεεκ to them.

Greek yoghurt sells, even if the syrupy fruit-filled sugar-laden easy-pour contents of the tub bear no resemblance whatsoever to the yoghurt sold in Greece...

Tzatziki, made with Greek yoghurt, sporting the famous Greek maiandros (where you guys get your 'meander' from...)

... because it's all Greek to them, whatever.

*neither is all made-in-Greece strained yoghurt made from Greek milk 

All the photos come from a supermarket somewhere in an American state. Thank you, you-know-who.

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Greek yoghurt (Στραγγιστό γιαούρτι)

Greek yoghurt is so popular all over the modern world that it is now a buzzword in culinary circles. Greek yoghurt doesn't have to be made with Greek milk, but it does have to be made in Greece, according to a recent UK court ruling. The strained creamy-style yoghurt goes by the name of 'Greek yoghurt' outside Greece, but there is a case here for inappropriate labelling: Perhaps each brand of thick and creamy strained yoghurt could more properly be labelled 'Greek-style yoghurt', in order not to confuse it with yoghurt actually made in Greece. At any rate, not all strained yoghurt is made with milk produced in Greece - that's just part and parcel of a globalised market.

In this direction, the Chobani yoghurt company, which makes its yoghurt in the US, was deemed as using misleading wording in describing the products it was selling in the UK as 'Greek yoghurt'. It now calls its yoghurt 'strained' instead of 'Greek'. That seems to make some sense. It fits in with the 'Swiss chocolate' concept. Swiss chocolate is made in Switzerland, even though the chocolate used to make it is produced outside Switzerland. But what about 'Greek yoghurt' made by FAGE in the US (FAGE was the one who boughtt he court case against Chobani in the first place)? Can that still be called 'Greek'? What applies in one country does not necessarily apply in another country.

Care has been taken by the ad makers to recreate old Greece. It's actually done so well that the cellphone ringtone spoils the nostalgia effect of the colours and tones used in the video.

Talking about misleading labelling, the latest UK ad for Greek yoghurt borders on this. It has been made by the (in)famous (formerly Greece-based) yoghurt company FAGE, for the UK market. The ad contains dramatic Greek village scenery reminiscent of former times. It starts off by showing a raggedy-clothed runty-looking Greek boy in a sun-drenched Greek mountain village environment letting a cow out of a gated paddock and into the untamed countryside. Then the boy runs back to his crumbling stone house with the sunken tiled roof, calling out in emergency mode to his mother, who appears from behind the shutters of a glassless window of a crumbling stone house, wearing a scarf on her head and a dress style still sometimes seen on nonegenarian Greek grandmothers (except that it isn't black)

Strained yoghurt is often used to accompany rice-based dishes in Greece.

She shakes her head with a worried look (as if the loss of the cow signals the road to hunger) as the boy tells her that the cow has run away (when all the while he actually let the cow out himelf) and reassures her, with an air of post-WW2 responsibility seen in children who grew up too fast without a sense of childhood, that he will run after the animal and make sure that the cow comes back home.

Strained yoghurt always tops souvlaki/gyro.

While the boy is making his marathon journey to find with the cow, he passes a man on a donkey making his way along a narrow village road, a black-robed priest manually ringing the bell of a stone church, a woman beating her rugs against the wall of her earthquake-risk house, black bra swaying on a clothesline hooked up to an electricity pole (this should have aroused suspicions on the viewer's part), until he finally catches up with the cow, which happens to be standing outside the butcher's store, just as the butcher - wearing a heavily blood-stained apron - is brandishing his knives.

My family's summer evening dish often consists of strained yoghurt with fruit and/or muesli.

The boy leads the cow back through olive fields and aromatic shrubs to the gated paddock and enters his dark cold stone house. We then see him sitting down at the wooden table, smiling as his mother rewards him for bringing the cow back home with a luscious-looking bowl of 'Greek yoghurt' topped with fresh fruit, nuts and honey. Just as the lad takes in his first spoonful of that enticing bowl of creamy goodness, his mother's cell phone rings.

You may be thinking that I am judging FAGE too harshly, by denouncing its efforts in mixing the very old nostalgic Greece (the one many of our mass-tourism package-tour visitors still associate with Greece) with the very new globalised Greece, but that's because we haven't come to the ad's punchline, which appears on the screen only two seconds after the cellphone starts ringing:

TOTAL Greek yoghurt - unchanged since 1926

Really? Was FAGE using French and German milk since then too?

In case you didn't realise, FAGE Greece never uses milk produced in Greece to produce its strained yoghurt for the Greek market - for the last 2-3 years, it's been65% German and 35% French. And in Greece, we never call Greek yoghurt 'Greek' - we call it 'strained' (στραγγιστό).

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Yoghurt (Γιαούρτι)

Some of the most expensive store-bought yoghurt in Greece is made by a company that uses non-Greek (cow's) milk, at a cost of more than €3.50 for a kilo of 2% Greek strained yoghurt. It also uses the most enticing specials to lure people into buying it - at least half the year round, I see it on special at the supermarkets, with 0.30-0.70 cents off the retail price.

Look at the top layer of the yoghurt in a clay pot -it has a 'crust'. The yoghurt's texture cannot be gauged until the crust is broken - it is not as thick as Greek-style strained yoghurt.

At the same time, local yoghurt production in Crete is a profitable business: yoghurt made with sheep's milk and sold in a clay pot is a different kind of yoghurt from the strained variety known as 'Greek yoghurt'. It is available like this at the supermarket, and costs approximately €3.50 for 800g; it's much tastier than the strained 'national' Greek yoghurt, but still not very cheap. Cheaper Greek-style strained yoghurt can be had by other large dairy companies using 100% Greek yoghurt, with prices in the €2.50-3.30 per kilo. I usually go for the Olympos variety, as we all like its taste and texture. 

I found some curdled milk at the bottom of a glass I'd left by accident in my office from the previous day; it was only a small amount, just a gulp or two, but there seemed to be a thick clump of what smelt and looked like yoghurt, surrounded by clear fluid that looked like milky water - the soured milk had turned into sweet yoghurt.

The temperature in my mid-spring office seemed perfect for making yoghurt. In my later experiments, I added a teaspoon of bulk-buy yoghurt to a glass of homogenised milk, and got a thick creamy yoghurt the next day, with no visible milky water liquid residue - it's texture was smoother than the curdled plain milk. If it were strained of excess liquid (eg by placing in a muslin bag), so that only the milk curds remain, it would become one solid mass as the curds stick together with no liquid separating them.

The health benefits of eating yoghurt are well-attested, so it's one of those highly sought-after foods which have also made Greek-style yoghurt very popular. It's also quite easy to make it at home. In Crete, we are partly facilitated by the warm weather; colder weather makes it harder for yoghurt to set. The only problem is that if you want to make yoghurt with Greek milk, it will cost nearly twice the price of yoghurt made with non-Greek milk. A litre of fresh Greek milk costs about €1.30, and makes 800 grams of non-strained yoghurt. If you prefer strained rather than runny yoghurt, it will cost you even more money. It's more economical for me to buy store-bought ready-to-eat yoghurt because I prefer to buy only Greek milk (although there is plenty of non-Greek milk on supermarket shelves these days, and they are cheaper than Greek milk).

We don't eat a lot of yoghurt at home - it's more of an every-now-and-then food. In the summer we make a lot of tzatziki, but in the winter, eating yoghurt is limited to one or two times a week as an evening meal, and as an accompaniment to Greek meals that tzatziki pairs well with, eg yemista, pilafi rice and souvlaki. It also goes well with fruit and honey, but we often eat the fruit on its own; in this day and age, too much honey and yoghurt means too many calories, which we don't often work off at the same rate that we eat them. Hence, we don't eat a lot of yoghurt.

See the curds on the side of the glass? No heat, no special ingredients, no fuss, no bother: to have fresh yoghurt every day, just leave a glass of milk mixed with a teaspoon of yoghurt at a warm room temperature (don't bother it or keep stirring it to check on it), covered (to avoid dirt/dust particles), and away from the sun or excess heat - the only thing you will need is some good starter, such as a teaspoon from a small pottle of Greek strained yoghurt (you will use up the whole pottle in a week if you make your own yoghurt in this way).

When I make yoghurt at home, I don't make it in great quantity, and I don't strain it. You'll find lots of advice on the internet about making yoghurt at home. My method was developed through experimentation. My yoghurt is a much more simplified version of my mother's; the warmer weather helps in my case. It's a very refreshing and tasty breakfast treat when freshly made, so it also gets eaten very quickly. It probably breaks all the health regulations, but at least I don't need to worry about expiry dates, as it is eaten on the day it's made. It goes well with fruit, but not well with honey as it's too runny.

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Charlotte a la grecque (Γλυκό ψυγείου)

Announcing the lucky winner of the Cookware.com giveaway: I included the comments (18 in total) on both the blog and the corresponding Facebook page. The winner of the $35 gift voucher was chosen by a random number generator program: it brought out STAMATIA from Canada! Thanks to all for taking part.

Since the Greek economic crisis came into the global spotlight, Greece has been portrayed as a country that produces nothing. When talking to people who live outside Greece (both Greeks and non-Greeks), once they tell me how corrupt and unfair my country is, they then go on to tell me how unproductive and uncreative it is. These are the same people that look out for imported Dodoni feta cheese and Pelion olives on the shelves of their non-Greek supermarket refrigerators. As my kids say: "Πίου, πίου", whose meaning I don't really know, but which I surmise to mean something like "You don't know what you're talking about", since they always make a rolling motion with one of their fingers near their head when they say this to each other.

It's always a nice surprise to see a much-loved world-renowned Greek product being used in a non-Greek recipe by a non-Greek cook. The first chapter in Elizabeth Bard's Lunch in Paris: A Love Story, with Recipes contains a recipe using just three easy-to-source ingredients: biscuits, tinned fruit and Greek yoghurt. When Greek yoghurt is called for in a recipe, it always refers to thick yoghurt (thick enough to stand a spoon in it) that isn't runny because it's been strained of most of its liquids. It's no surprise to see that food is what Greece is known for (apart from good summer holiday weather) outside of Greece: Greeks have always been known to share their good food.

Charlotte made with P'tit Beurre Papadopoulou biscuits

Elizabeth probably used the FAGE yoghurt brand (beware of imitations!) to make the dessert (under the name TOTAL) because this brand of yoghurt is exported to all parts of the world (and is now even being made in a US factory). I've adapted Elizabeth's recipe just slightly (see my previous post), making it in both a medium-sized mould and portion-sized ramekins. I substituted the non-Greek products in her recipe with two well-known Greek ones that are also imported into Western countries: PAPADOPOULOU biscuits and SKO canned fruits. All these products have become popular outside Greece because they are associated with high quality comestibles and transparent food items - none of them contain any E numbers.

Elizabeth's simple dessert recipe (she calls it a 'student charlotte') is a breeze to assemble; even a child can do this (mine did, in fact!), and the impressive outcome makes you look like a French pastry chef. This dessert can be made in ramekins or in a large mould, according to your preference.

You need:
1 500g can of SKO canned fruits (of your choice; peaches are definitely the tastiest)
1 packet of PAPADOPOULOS Miranda or P'tit Beurre biscuits (Miranda are better than P'tit Beurre, because they are smaller and will fit into a small mould without needing to break them, like P'tit Beurre)
1 500g tub of FAGE yoghurt

Method:
Line a large mould or individual ramekins with some saran wrap around the sides. Take some Miranda or P'tit Beurre PAPADOPOULOU biscuits and line them up, side by side, so that they stick to the saran wrap, on the sides of the mould/ramekins. You can dab them with a blot of yoghurt to ensure this. Now place enough biscuits on the bottom of the mould/ramekins to cover it (you may need to break them to make them fit securely). Spoon a layer of FAGE yoghurt over the biscuit layer. Now place some drained SKO fruit chunks on top of the yoghurt. Repeat this process with the PAPADOPOULOS biscuits, FAGE yoghurt and SKO fruit, until no more layers fit. Top with a final layer of PAPADOPOULOS biscuits. Finally, pour some of the syrup from the SKO fruit over the top layer and down the sides of the mould/ramekins. Cover the dessert with a layer of saran wrap. Place the dessert in the fridge and allow to set (for at least 2 hours).

When ready to serve, tip the mould/ramekins onto an appropriate serving dish (a large platter for the mould, or individual plates for the ramekins).

Charlotte made with Miranda Papadopoulou biscuits; these go soft more quickly than P'tit Beurre, so add less syrup.

Voila! Or should I say Opa?!

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The next time you go food shopping, take a look round the shelves of Middle Eastern stores, Greek food supplies and even your local supermarket. You're bound to find some Greek food on the shelves; even Christchurch, New Zealand, a city not at all known for its Greek community stocks Greek food on the shelves of its shops. A caveat: Greek food won't necessarily be labelled as a Greek product; you can verify this by checking the labels and fine print on bottles of olive oil that are labelled as 'products of Italy'. Nearly all mass-produced olive oil exported from Italy contains Greek olive oil.

If you've never tried Greek yoghurt before, Fage USA offers a 0.50 cent online coupon that you can print out and use, but only in the US: the Greek site offers competitions with prizes on a seasonal basis.

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Chicken salad (Κοτοσαλάτα)

A bit of meat added to a green salad makes a complete meal. You don't need much more than some sourdough bread to go with it, and if you are a drinker, a glass of wine. A salad with a little bit of meat can also constitute a light meal. It all depends on the dressing you choose to add to your salad. I like to make meat-and-greens salad with the chicken that I boil to make stock for pilafi (creamy Cretan rice). Boiled chicken always gets left over, since it's usually viewed as a sick person's food (light, good for the stomach, etc); at least that's how my husband thinks of it.

I wouldn't call chicken salad a wholly Greek kind of salad. The basic ingredients for a classic chicken salad can easily be found in Greek cuisine, but it is actually a recent addition to the culinary range in our kind of cooking. It is becoming more common to find meat added to a salad of leafy greens, like for example pork with spinach, rocket and lettuce leaves. Creamy dressings of the type often associated with chicken salad are also a novelty in Greek cuisine. Mayonnaise dressings have not really caught on in the dining-out trade, except as a dressing for something called 'chef's salad' (σαλάτα του σεφ) and 'Russian salad' (Ρώσσικη σαλάτα), which in Greece are both made with pretty much anything (you can empty out your fridge and larder this way), and dressed with so much mayonnaise hiding the ingredients that you'd think you were being served vanilla ice-cream rather than a salad. They are mainly served in pizzerias and fast-food chains. Such salads and dressings form a part of globalised cuisine than Greek cuisine.

One type of creamy dressing that seems to have caught on, if somewhat in trepidation, as it is not seen very often (people's taste buds are very much culturally attuned here) is the one containing Greek strained yoghurt. If you had some of the chicken salad I recently made, you would probably never go back to the classic mayonnaise dressing for a chicken salad. The yoghurt dressing is light and has a healthy taste. This chicken salad makes a complete meal, with the added bonus that it involves very little cooking, making it very easy to prepare.

To make enough salad for 2 large servings, you need:
1 large chicken breast, boiled till tender (I use the leftover boiled chicken after I make Cretan pilafi)
1 medium-sized head of lettuce (I like to use curly red and green lettuce, a type called 'lollo')
1 carrot, peeled and grated
a few rocket leaves (arugula)
100-150g Greek strained yoghurt
2-4 tablespoons of olive oil
1 clove of garlic, chopped finely (optional - if you do use it, your salad will taste a little like tzatziki)
salt and pepper

Chop the lettuce into shreds into a bowl. Tear the rocket leaves and add the carrot. Chop the chicken meat into small pieces and add it to the salad. Season with salt and pepper, and add the garlic if using. Add the yoghurt and mix well into all the salad ingredients. Then add the oil and mix well again. You don't want too much olive oil, just enough to help the salad take on an oily look.

This chicken lettuce salad is ready to eat as is, but it tastes even better if you leave it in the refrigerator for an hour so that all the tastes blend together. If you really want to keep things vegetarian, instead of chicken, add mushrooms (even better if they are lightly sauteed), walnuts and/or raisins/pomegranate seeds.

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Colourful dips (Χρωματιστά ντιπ)

I can generally do without meat, but I find it very hard to go without cheese and milk. Hence, I never fast in the strictest sense during Greek orthodox lenten periods, because I just find it too difficult to do so. How on earth I managed to do it in the past, even for a week or two is beyond me. Dairy products are part of my family's life nearly every day.

Since our summer holidays in Northern Greece, we've been slightly overindulging in Greek dips made with cheese or yoghurt. Here are some of our discoveries of good Greek cheese and milky dips. They are perfect during the warmer weather for a light lunch, and especially now that summer is near us.

Bouyiourdi - feta cheese, tomatos and peppers, cooked till melting consistency, and topped with chili flakes.

Galotiri - a mild milky dip from Central Greece with a taste resembling cottage cheese, using both cheese and yoghurt, sometimes also called pseftotiri (= fake cheese), as it is a quickly made cheat's version of a kind of curd cheese, also called galotiri, made in Central Greece.

Htipiti - a Northern Greek hot feta cheese dip using roasted red peppers and chili peppers; htipiti (lit.: beaten) is also known as tirokafteri (lit.: hot cheese) or kopanisti (another word for 'beaten') in various parts of Greece.

Tirokafteri (left) and tzatziki (right) served with dolmadakia

Tzatziki - the all-time taverna classic, hinting at reminisces of a summer spent in Greece.

Beetroot yoghurt dip - this is a very refreshing dip similar to tzatziki; instead of cucumber, it contains beetroot, which gives it its intense pink colour. It goes really well with seafood.

Guacomole isn't traditionally made with yoghurt, but it is another great dip that can take on a Mediterranean flavour with a dairy addition, turning it into a green version of tzatziki.

And finally, melitzanosalata (eggplant dip) can also be added to this list; it isn't strictly a milky dip, but it can also be made with the addition of yoghurt for a creamier taste and texture.

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Galotiri (Γαλοτύρι)

Galotiri (galo=milk, tiri=cheese, therefore: milky cheese) is a curd cheese made by combining feta cheese, yoghurt and milk. It's a product of Central Greece, and is used as a table cheese or added to pies and pasties. because it is a fresh curd cheese, it doesn't travel well, so it isn't well known around Greece outside its local origins. We were introduced to it on our recent trip to Pelion.

My first taste of galotiri, Pelion, Central Greece

Galotiri can take the place of feta cheese, tzatziki or fresh mizithra; it is used in a similar way as a spread or accompaniment to other foods. It is lighter in calories and not as salty as plain feta cheese, making it a healthier alternative. It can be made at home and keeps about the same amount of time as fresh curd cheese, ie about two weeks, before it starts to take on a more sour taste.

There are many recipes for galotiri (γαλοτύρι) available on the internet. Here is the basic preparation method.

My home-made version of galotiri. This cheese is available ready made from supermarkets, but not in Crete as there is no demand for it (nor is it known at all).

You need:
200g feta cheese (use good quality barelled feta if you can get it)
100g strained yoghurt
half a cup of milk
salt - feta cheese is inherently salty, but this dip could still use some more...
freshly ground pepper - you can also spicy pepper, eg paprika, or peppercorn mixtures or even garlic to give it a tzatziki taste; some people add light tasty herbs like dill.

Crumble the feta cheese in a bowl. Add the other ingredients and mix everything well, taking care not to melt the feta cheese - it should be crumbly while all the other ingredients should look like thick soup. Some people heat the ingredients together, but I think this is unnecessary - you can simply stir the mixture till it takes on a smooth blend.

Week-old galotiri resembles cottage cheese

The mixture is ready to use as is, but will acquire a better taste in a closed container over the next week. Just shake the container (without opening it) a little every day - open it after a week, and the galotiri is ready to be consumed - if you hadn't already consumed it soon after you made it. If you do manage to let the mixture stand in the fridge and work its magic, you will realise that you have created a good Greek substitute for cottage cheese.

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Tikvitchki (Τικβίτσκι)

It's that time of year again when our garden is starting to produce more than we can eat. I'm talking specifically about those long shiny creamy green vegetables topped with a bright yellow flower on their crown. We've already had zucchini fritters, boureki, boiled courgettes with horta and zucchini chocolate cake, no less than twice this past month. I've also put away no less than four baking tins of boureki in the deep freeze. I won't run out of zucchini this summer, but I may just possibly run out of creative recipes to use them up.

We've graduated to growing kinkier varieties of zucchini, like the round one in the photos (it's not a pumpkin).

I remembered having Georgia's dish of fried courgettes layered with tzatziki dip, which she had made for us last year while she was looking after my mother-in-law who was recuperating from a broken leg. She came from Bulgaria, and told us that she used to make this dish often back in her home country. At the time, I called it a kind of Bulgarian boureki, as it seemed similar to the Cretan boureki pie consisting of layers of sliced courgettes and curd cheese (instead of yoghurt). With a little research, I even found a name for Georgia's dish: tikvitchki. We had this recently with some pan-fried veal steaks and horta.

Georgia's rendition of tikvitchki (above) was creamier than mine; she used plain yoghurt spiced with garlic, while I preferred to use Greek tzatziki.

Veal is very expensive in Greece, but it is worth buying when you find it; Greek beef is very tough, even when cooked, but this veal took only half an hour to be cooked in the pan.

Bulgarians constitute a major group of economic migrants in Greece, making a major contribution to the workforce. Bulgarian cuisine shares a lot of similarities with Greek cuisine, and no wonder, since the countries neighbour each other and share a similar history from the period of Ottoman rule. Ingredients for traditional Bulgarian recipes can be found easily in Greece. Bulgarian dishes are generally uncomplicated, spiced up with lots of onions and garlic, with heavy use made of seasonal produce.

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Although Bulgarian cuisine hasn't passed into the realms of the commonly known widespread repertoire of international cuisine, I was secretly pleased to see that the Bulgarian economic immigrants of Hania have passed from the status of kitchen hands to taverna owner-operators, as I was passing by the old harbour in Hania on the east side near the marina. That's a positive sign of socio-economic progress in a migrant community, and it reminded me very much of the way my own parents built up their status as Greek immigrants in New Zealand.

In front of Mehana Boliari (the nobles' taverna), there is a large open shadeless courtyard which was being used as a carpark for a long time. The freshly painted walls of the building where the taverna is housed (presumably it operates in winter too) become easy targets for the depravities of graffiti artists. From a brief look at the menu, I noticed some Bulgarian favorites like tarator soup and ovcharska salad, as well Greek standard fare. The whole set up reminds me of my Greek parents who used to cook fish and chips and serve them up to Kiwis. I'll be visiting this place for sure one day - it's bound to tickle my memory of my time in New Zealand.

Economic migrants often undertake the dirtiest, most mundane tasks in their adopted country. While the locals run businesses and manage offices, these people keep the work areas clean and provide them with food. This is all part and parcel of both the country's and the migrant's successful progress. Who says migrants aren't acclimatising into Greek society?

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