The best malaka in the country (Mαλάκα XL)

And now, the news. An organised crime syndicate carrying out contract killings was recently busted in Greece. To the shame of the Cretan people, all fingers pointed to their compatriots. The outbreak of malaka that ensued could only be described in epidemic proportions on a regional scale, as it resonated across the island...

"All Cretans are liars," Epimenides of Knossos, a Cretan himself, once said (well, actually, he said "Κρῆτες ἀεὶ ψεῦσται "), creating the Epimenides paradox, a logic problem that arises in the case of a self-referential statement. Epimenides was himself a Cretan; his fellow compatriots may have thought he was a bit of a malaka because he didn't realise he was including himself in the statement. Perhaps Epimenides did realise the conunudrum, in which case he was purposely excluding himself, while assuming that all his compatriots were malakes instead.

The recent turn of events in the Greek news may actually lead one to think that Epimenides was wrong: all Cretans are not liars, they are all some kind of malaka instead. An organised crime syndicate was broken up by the police, in which the main links involved were of Cretan origin, the very fact which gave them away. The shipping magnate Pericles Panagopoulos who was kidnapped last January recalled that one of his kidnappers sounded Cretan: instead of saying 'ti', the standard modern Greek word for 'what', that feckin eejit kept using the Cretan phrase 'ida'. The whole country knows that only a Cretan would use that word, and he'd have to have been born and bred in Crete to make it come out naturally. What a malaka; it's a bit like Bugs Bunny wearing the full hijab using the phrase "What's up, Doc?" in his characteristic twang.

To make matters worse, Mr Panagopoulos' wife was told over the phone by a muffled voice that if she didn't pay the 100 million euro ransom (which was eventually bargained down to 30 million), she'd find her husband 'apothameno'. That (same) malaka didn't think to hide his tracks and just use the standard modern Greek word 'pethameno' (which means 'dead'), and usually in a well-known Cretan expletive: "διάλε τσ' αποθαμένους σου" ("may the devil take your deceased"). Instead, he used the Cretan dialectal equivalent; sounds like a case of malaka extra-large.

The biggest malaka would have to be the head of the crime syndicate, Panayiotis Vlastos, a prisoner serving a life sentence in a high security prison in Greece. Although not a Cretan himself, he inadvertently chose highly accented Cretans to help him execute the contract killings that he was organising - straight from his prison cell. The Greek public was treated to all the malakies he said during his tapped phone conversations, which he made from his mobile phone, which he was supplied with by some other Cretan malaka crony of his who was working as a prison warden.

Vlastos must have eaten a lot of this cheese in his lifetime.

Probably the biggest malakia Vlastos uttered was to his wife (also a member of the crime ring):

Vlastos: Do you know how many murders, how many kidnappings, how many robberies I've had to commit to give you a good life?
Wife: Mmm, I know, I know how hard you work.
Vlastos: I mean, take that car I bought you for instance, you know what it took to buy it for you, the murders, the kidnappings, the robberies...
Wife: Yes, yes, you're right.
Vlastos: Tell me babe, have you ever murdered, have you ever kidnapped, have you ever robbed? You haven't, have you?
Wife: Yes, you're right, I haven't.
Vlastos: You don't know what I go through for you.

Malaka big-time rings right through his dealings. His wife, herself some kind of malakismeni, knew all about the good life, as we know it down here in Crete.

Vlastos' wife must have had a taste for these kalitsounia made with malaka, which probably determined her locational preference.

She was infatuated by the place, as another tapped conversation attests:

Vlastos: When I get out of here, where would you like to live?
Wife: Crete, Crete, yes, Crete's the best place to live in the whole of Greece.
Vlastos: And what are you going to do there? Sunbathe all day?
Wife: Can you open up a spa for me?
Vlastos: A spa? A spa! That's it! A spa! We'll open the best spa in the area, it'll have manicure, pedicure, jacuzzi, everything. There won't be another one like it in the area. Find out which part of Crete doesn't have a spa yet...

Vlastos and his wife would probably love my kreatopita made with malaka.

Vlastos needed to get to Crete for this reason (to satisfy his wife's demands), so he started using his connections, and began arranging for a transfer from the high security prison in Trikala (where he was incarcerated), to the maximum security prison in Alikarnassos in Iraklio, Crete:

Wife: Good news!
Vlastos: What?
Wife: Your transfer's been arranged!
Vlastos: It has? How?
Wife: That nice one, you know, the good one...
Vlastos: Yeah? Him?
Wife: You'll be down there in a week.
Vlastos: In just one week? That was quick.
Wife: You need to thank that nice guy.
Vlastos: Yeah, we'll think of something...

The media is still trying to work out who that particularly nice malaka was: maybe it's someone in the government, maybe it's a Cretan, maybe it's both...

The chief prison officer in Iraklio wasn't quite convinced that Vlastos needed to come down to Crete to serve his sentence; what a shame he didn't stick to his guns instead of listening to another chief prison officer, this time from the low-security agricultural prison of Ayia in Hania, Crete. The head officer (now disqualified from duty until further notice) of this insignificant prison (prisoners are allowed to wander within the picket fence confines of the prison, they perform agricultural duties in the fields, and one prison day counts as two sentence days) showed 'special interest in the transfer of Vlastos to Crete', convincing the Alikarnassos head officer that Vlastos really did need to come down to Crete to serve his sentence (this latter decision heralded his own demise, suffering the same fate as his counterpart in Hania). The actions of one malaka after another created a domino effect, whose ripples were felt like a tsunami over the whole island (the whole fiasco was discovered just a few days before the transfer was to be made).

*** *** ***

Triple-A quality malaka (μαλάκα) from the Hondrakis (Χονδράκης) dairy station: 'hondromalaka' (χοντρομαλάκα) in its abbreviated form.

Just what makes a good malaka, then? A rudimentary knowledge of Greek grammar (you might like to try Babiniotis) will clarify a number of issues concerning the meaning of the word:

Ολα τα ονόματα σε -ακας δουλεύουν επί 8ώρου βάσεως:
(All nouns ending in -akas work on an 8-hour basis:)
π.χ. δασοφύλ-ακας, χωροφύλ-ακας, κτλ.
(eg forestry worker, guard, etc.)
Eξαιρείται ο μαλ-άκας ο οποίος δουλεύει επί 24ώρου βάσεως.
(An exception is 'malakas', who works on a 24-hour basis.)

Panayiotis Vlastos and his cronies are excellent examples of the 24-hour variety of malaka. Being the head of the crime syndicate indicates that Vlastos probably buys his malaka from the Archakis dairy farm, making him an 'archimalaka', while his cronies probably buy the more common variety of malaka available all over Hania, made by the Hondrakis cheese factory; that's why they're all hondromalakes.

The conversations included in this post are based on the real ones, as related to the Greek public through the television news reports. Nothing like a bit of malarkey for a laugh, is there?

©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.

Nouveau cuisine: Leafy salad at the The Botanical Park (Μαρουλέ στο Βοτανικό Κήπο)

(PART 2 of our adventures on the Omalos plateau; click here for PART 1 and PART 3)

When Alaska came to town, we just had to go and see her. Her visits are quite brief, and we didn't know how long she'd be staying. So we piled up in the car in our winter woollies and set off to her mountain residence, the Omalos plateau, the only place where she's accessible to most of us. This is where one of the main attractions of Hania is located (apart from the alluring sun, sea and sand): the Samaria Gorge, a 'must-see' sight for most summer visitors to Crete. After walking downhill for five hours from the Omalos plateau, the Libyan Sea is a welcome sight at Agia Roumeli with its black sand. In the winter, the gorge is closed to visitors (there is a forest guard at the entrance at all times), because Alaska comes to town.

The entrance to the Samaria Gorge is always guarded - the warden's hut is on the left; the cloudy atmosphere is very common in the winter at the entrance to the gorge.

Adverse weather conditions make it dangerous to be in the gorge; at its narrowest point, it fills with water when it rains at dangerous levels, while rocks and stones fall off the cliffs, creating small landslides. Since it became a national park in 1962, no one has been allowed to overnight in the gorge, unless by special arrangement. Only hunters (Mr Organically Cooked among them) and shepherds are experienced enough to access the area after the park has officially closed at the end of summer. I've crossed the gorge once, and would love to do it again, which I intend to do with the whole family.

People around the world go to the snow centre in Dubai, but here in Crete, we don't need to recreate the Alaskan experience artificially. In about half an hour, the Haniotes can see the real thing for themselves. We joined in the madness of the snow hunters just before the Christmas holidays were over. The southerly winds of the past few days had melted the low-lying snow in the valley, but the atmosphere was still that of a white Christmas. It's the middle of winter, and although the Samaria Gorge is closed, the road leading to its entrance is open. The snow ploughs are located in central areas to do their job when they are needed.

To get to the Omalos plateau, you need to drive past the area where we live, past my children's school, past the village where our orange and olive trees are located...

Leaving the village of Fournes; the leaves may have fallen, but the persimmons are still ripening...

... at which point you turn right and start climbing the mountainside, passing through the historic village of Lakki (Lakkous in the accusative)...

The village of Lakki on our most recent visit

Lakki village in previous years - at this point, the road to Omalos was closed to all traffic.

... and picturesque pine forests...

... until you finally reach the Omalos valley, located at a height of 1000 metres above sea level. The road was opened only about 50 years ago and has been widened to such an extent that it is now easy to access the area (as long as it's not snowing).

Approaching the Omalos plateau (in the distance)

Visiting Alaska makes you hungry. There are many places to have a good meal along this route. Half the restaurants in the area are tried and true classic purveyors of traditional Cretan cuisine, which they take great pride to announce to their potential customers, through their stone-built premises, wooden fences and old-fashioned names. Many of these restaurants have sprung up on this tourist route relatively recently; they are now seen as the modern trend in measuring economic progress on the island, as they play their role in ecotourism.

These restaurants and hotels have been renovated over the years - the ones in the photo were the first to cater specifically for tourists visiting the Omalos plateau and the Samaria Gorge.

Only a century ago, the natural landscape of the valley was pretty much void of any sign of civilisation. There were no roads carved in these mountains, nor were there any buildings, except for some stone-built houses used by shepherds. The fields that were being cultivated were planted with wheat: traces of the αλόνι (aloni - where the grain was crushed) can still be seen.

Remains of an old aloni on the Omalos plateau.

An old aloni behind a former well - this once formed part of a dairy station.

Only when Crete was introduced to more industrialised agriculture did intensive olive cultivation follow, after which came orange and other citrus production, and lately avocado plantations, in the lower-lying regions.

These hills show signs of recent cultivation - the olive trees are very young, they are lined up in perfect rows, and the land has been ploughed or moved mechanically.

The state of the agricultural trade is at present in a shambolic state, due to European Community restrictions and low prices for fresh produce. Olive and orange production are still in full swing, but new ventures that keep pace with the tourist trend in ecotourism, such as summer retreats, restaurants and nature walkways, are being expounded as the new age solutions for the sustainability of the Cretan environment.

Another sign of 'progress': selling land and purpose-built mountainside homes to retired Europeans, complete with swimming pools - 'living with the gods'?

All the restaurants on the Omalos plateau were doing a roaring trade when we arrived, judging by the number of cars parked around them, the people waiting to be seated and the diners that could be seen from the large windows of the restaurants, none of which should be surprising, given the holiday season and the climatic conditions for this time of year. We decided to give them a miss, making our way back down the mountain and stopping somewhere among the fields in between Lakki and Fournes.

View Larger Map

A new restaurant had opened just two months ago: The Botanical Park. One of my husband's taxi-driver colleagues claimed that this restaurant served 'καλό φαγητό' (kalo fayito - good food).

We were lucky to find a parking place, let alone a table - but the view was worth it.

The premises looked rather modern, and the sign at the entrance, painted in bold yellow and green, showed the way to a new road specially built for the restaurant and gardens. It had none of that rustic stone-and-wood look to it that is usually associated with buildings in this area. It even boasted an internet address. After spending half an hour trying to park (the parking spaces should be just enough when the holiday season is over), we entered the restaurant, and were lucky to find a table for four - it was packed with diners.

A (very polite) waiter (they were all wearing modern waitering uniforms with the name of the restaurant clearly printed on it) cleared the table of the last diners' clutter, laid it with paper placemats (oooh, fast food? I thought) bearing the name of the restaurant and left us with some (modern-looking neatly printed) menu cards. I was informed that everything stated on the menu was available, but grilled food may take longer to serve than other meals because it was peak traffic time - 3pm on a lazy holiday Sunday afternoon.

Never have I visited a restaurant in Hania whose waiters work professionally, taking a genuine interest in the customer, making helpful suggestions - and smiling the whole time. Despite the packed house, the food was served promptly, and the presentation was what one would expect from a restaurant in a city centre, working hard to keep customers and build up a clientele. The customers in this case were from the surrounding villages (we recognised a few people), as well as quite a few middle-class townies. The restaurant's fresh outlook (even the plates were square instead of round) is not a pretense to entice you to enter; their whole approach is very modern and competitive.

Mr Organically Cooked prefers traditional favorites like roast meat and potatoes, while the rest of us chose some spicier dishes, like peasant-style sausages, marathopites (fennel pies), liver cooked in balsamic vinegar and salad with pomegranate and walnuts.

The modern look of the premises - functional square walls and tiled floors - the signage, menu, service, professionalism and respect paid to the environment are all an attempt to break the old-fashioned traditions that have somewhat stifled Hania's reputation in the tourism sector. The outdated atmosphere of the traditional Cretan restaurant owner twiddling his bushy moustache, while his wife (or other family members) does a Cretan jig juggling between kitchen, tables and dishes does not bode well with the transition that the town is required to make to compete with modern Europe for a sector of agro-tourism. The Botanical Park is helping to move Hania's image away from the quainter side of Cretan life, with its well-informed local dwellers showing an interest in providing quality services to visitors.

Locally brewed beer on the tap was also being served.

The menu card boldly expunged most ideas the older generation on the island may have about food: raw wild leafy greens (usually boiled), fruit used in combination with savoury dishes (meat is hardly ever served with cooked fruit), herbs and spices usually associated with tea-making , as well as some dishes not traditionally cooked in Crete at all (like bouyiourdi - Northern Greece - and fried olives - Peloponese). Balsamic vinegar seemed to have replaced the traditional wine vinegar known in the region, and a few 'exotic' dishes were also included, using curry and tropical fruit. The word 'organic' (βιολογικό - violoyiko) featured heavily in the description of the meals. Most dishes used local (Cretan, Mediterranean) ingredients, served up in a new way; new, that is, to the average Cretan and the culinary customs of the island:

<<Το εστιατόριο του Βοτανικού πάρκου Κρήτης συνδυάζει την αναβίωση των παραδοσιακών γεύσεων και προϊόντων με νέες γαστρονομικές προτάσεις.>>
"The Botanical Park restaurant combines the revival of traditional tastes and ingredients with new gastronomic proposals."


Greek tavernas usually treat customers to a dessert 'on the house' at the end of their meal.

In deference to the older generation which have been brought up on favorites which are eaten both at home and when they go out, each menu card included a plain white A4 type-written sheet, headed "Grandmother's kitchen specials"; instead of Mama's taverna, we are now talking about Grandmother's taverna! This is clearly a sign that people are NOT cooking according to the traditional Cretan methods any longer, which also begs the question of whether the Mediterranean diet is being maintained. On a more positive side, the fact that these dishes were not included in the main menu and were hastily written up in the addendum shows that people are still expecting to see solidly staple Cretan dishes, which is why the restaurant owner felt obliged to offer them. The specials included traditional roast lamb and potatoes, pork and celery, and vegetarian xinohondro with eggplant; in the summer, I would expect to see boureki, snails and yemista listed there. My own family's meal choices came from that page.

The trees in this new garden are still kept in protective enclosures.

There has indeed been some attempt to create a botanical park in the area (as the name suggests), but the plants are too small at the moment to make a distinguishable impression on anyone at this stage. Besides, it was raining, making a walk through the area with young children too tricky to handle. But the view was worth taking in from the wide balconies (perfect for the summer months), making it a good place to visit all year round, a very important factor given that most places in Hania operate on a seasonal basis. The restaurant isn't far from our house (a 20-minute drive), and I can't wait to take some friends there (perhaps you?). Nouveau cuisine has finally entered the traditional staunchly old-fashioned market of the Cretan restaurant trade.

We ordered a green salad, a plate of (4) peasant-style sausages, 2 large fennel pies cooked on the hob, 2 servings of fried potatoes cooked on the hob, fried liver in balsamic vinegar sauce, and a (rather large) serving of roast lamb and potatoes cooked in a wood-fired oven. Cost: 43 euro (the drinks were shouted - Kiwi slang - by friends).

*** *** ***

As we were leaving the restaurant, I asked the owner about the website mentioned on the restaurant sign. He admitted that it wasn't operating yet, but it would be up and running in a couple of weeks. I told him about my website which he seemed to show some interest in.

"Leave me your contact details" he asked. I wrote my name, website, and email on a piece of paper.

"Verivaki?" He looked up at me, eyes wide open with surprise. "Are you from Lakki?"

It's a nice feeling to be known by your name, as it gives you a sense of belonging, something I didn't really have until I came to live in Crete.

*** *** ***

Here's my version of the fantastic salad I ordered at the Botanical Park restaurant.

Top: Botanical Park; bottom: my version

You need:
some torn lettuce leaves (locally grown)
some torn tender baby spinach leaves (locally grown)
some torn rocket leaves (locally grown)
the seeds of a pomegranate (locally grown)
a few shelled walnuts (the fresher and the more locally produced, the better)
some of your favorite cheese, cut into small cubes (halloumi was used at the restaurant, I used blue vein, but feta, Cretan graviera or mizithra from Hania would also work very well)
a few drops of balsamic vinegar (there is a locally made variety in Hania)
a few drops of olive oil (needless to say, local!)
NO salt - the cheese already contains plenty of it!

Wash and drain the greens very well. Pick out the seeds of the pomegranate. Place all the ingredients in a shallow dish, toss well and serve. If you're not a vegetarian, this salad goes extremely well with dry-cooked meat such as spicy sausage or fried liver. Alternatively, some thinly sliced prosciutto would blend well with the colours and the taste.

This is my entry for this week's Weekend Herb Blogging, hosted by Rachel from The Crispy Cook. Weekend Herb Blogging focusses on flowers, herbs and vegetables used in unusual ways in recipes. In this salad, all the ingredients deserve a special mention; leaving aside the greens, the fruity taste of the walnuts and pomegranates make a unique contribution to this amazing salad, featuring some of the best seasonal tastes of Crete. All the ingredients were locally sourced.

My father's grandfather (my great-grandfather) was from Lakkous, while the Verivakis name continues to be linked with the military and politics.

©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.

I see red (Βλέπω κόκκινο)

(Apologies to the Finn brothers)

When I open up my fridge,
I see red, I see red, I see red!
I don't even say: 'Yes, please,'
I see red, I see red, I see red!

I see re-e-ed,
Ooh, I see red!
*** *** ***
I see re-e-e-e-ed ------

Piled high like a mountain,
they're just right for bottling,
they're - heir - looms,
home - pro - duce!

Squeeze them little cherries,
Put them in the deep freeze, won't you?
They'll - make - good
V -8 - juice!

Cheers - to - you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

When I open up my fridge,
I see red, I see red, I see red!
I don't even say: 'Yes, please,'
I see red, I see red, I see red!

I see re-e-ed,
Ooh, I see red!
I see re-e-e-e-ed--

If you don't know the Split Enz song "I see red" (and how would you if you aren't a Kiwi), you can watch the video. Just imagine a squat dark-haired Greek woman doing what Tim Finn is doing when he sees that woman passing by the window, especially when I woke up this morning and entered the kitchen.

If your taste in music is less ethnic and more globalised, you can just sing along to the following instead:

Old McDonald had a farm,
To-ma-to-ma-to!
And on that farm he raised some toms,
To-ma-to-ma-to!

With a cherry here, and an heirloom there,



toms here,



toms there,



tom toms EVERYWHERE,

Old McDonald had a farm,
To-ma-to-ma-to!

©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.

No more room at the inn (Είμαστε πλήρης)

(poem dedicated to all my regular readers - you know who you are, and I'm humbled to be meeting up with so many)

I woke up this morning
and what did I see?
Some garden-fresh vegetables
looking at me.



How did they come in?
I heard them not knock.
They came univited,
it was such a great shock.

Alas, I can't bear it
no longer herein,
for, as you can see,
there's no room at the inn.



No more room at the inn
and it's only July,
we still have two more
summer months to fly by.



No more room at the inn,
I beg you to come;
I'll cook up a treat
you'll enjoy in the sun.

Boureki, moussaka,
imam baldi,
tzatziki, hohlious,
and horiatiki.

I'm waiting to see you,
I'll greet you in Greek:
Kalos orisate!
Kali orexi!

©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.