Drakonas (Δρακόνας)

I was supposed to cook boureki yesterday. I had laid out all the ingredients on the kitchen worktop to be prepared to start working on it as soon as I woke up on Sunday morning. I got up, I made myself a cup of coffee, and then - I don't know how it happened, but I found myself lying on the couch, reading A Casual Vacancy (on the dichotomy of the modern western world: we are required to think in a politically correct manner without prejudices, while successful writers use them to create characters in best-sellers; I should start working on a novel about my immediate neighbours - it will shed great light on the Greek identity). Instead of busying myself in the kitchen, I was flaked out on the sofa, reading.

By the middle of August, I get tired of the sand, tired of the sea, tired of the beach, tired of tending the garden, tired of souvlaki, tired of cooking meat, and tired of cooking with aubergines. It must have been written all over my face when my husband saw me: "Let's go out for lunch," he suggested (it didn't take long to convince him, after seeing some mouth-watering photos on the internet from a friend's recent visit to a taverna).

  

What was special about this trip was the drive to the taverna which was located in the mountain village of Drakona, a place we had never been to, mainly because we never really needed to, and we chose to drive there using a route that we had never taken before, and we returned via a different route too, making a full round-trip. We passed roads lines with grazing goats and dry stone walls, abandoned stone houses, paths carved out of forests, dry streams waiting to fill up in winter, and μαντριά, enclosures for sheep and goats which graze there when the weather permits. The scenery was awesomely beautiful; Crete is filled with majestic landscape features which are easily accessible these days with the developed road system - there are few places that cannot be reached - yet few of us have taken all the roads there are to take on this island. It is not as though I have not seen other similarly beautiful places on my island, but I am constantly surprised at what the road hides. If Crete were a flat island, you could probably drive everywhere in a day or two - with all our mountains, it could take an hour to drive over a small hill or through a short gorge.

  

Even more inspiring are the people you meet along the way. The residents of these once large villages - now just tiny communities - remind you of the Cretan people's resilience to continue living the way their ancestors did. They are all inextricably linked to agriculture and a subsistence lifestyle, which is now suddenly in vogue, an attraction worth visiting: real people living in the middle of nowhere, observing how they are now able to stay where they are, however remote or old-fashioned it may seem to live in such places, isolated from all the trappings of modern life, without even a store to buy their staples. They eat what they produce, and they produce a lot, sharing a great deal of it. Drakona is only half an hour away from my home, but the two different worlds seem far apart form each other.

Tavernas specialising in old-fashioned roasts, using local ingredients and very little else, are now all the rage. These establishments are doing well, mainly due to their low costs of operation: if you raise the meat, vegetables and olive oil in the area where you run the restaurant, living and working at the same place at the the same time, your costs are going to be very low and the quality of the food (given the location and climate, in Crete, you cannot go far wrong) is going to be very high.

"According to Prof. Lindley M. Keasbey, “Europe is made up of two parts: the beer and butter civilisation of the North, and the wine and oil civilisation of the South. The beer and butter people are made up of Nordics and Alpines, the wine and oil people are predominate of Mediterranean stock.” On a global level, people have already realized the true characteristics of Mediterranean civilization, trying to adapt the wine and oil culture into their own home, region, and country." (something i helped write at work to hopefully make us the seat of UNESCO's Mediterranean Diet as Intangible Heritage in Greece)

Hors d'ouevres (grated tomato with olive oil and oregano) as a pre-lunch treat on the house, with our choice of a white house wine - it is not just the food that looks natural, but the colours too.

Home-made bread made the day before we came - my friend who had visited the same restaurant the day before took the photo of the loaves that had just finished baking in the wood-fired oven; one of those loaves was cut to form the slices of bread pictured above.

Vegetarian starters (staka dip, fried zucchini stuffed with cheese and braised greens in olive oil) ...

... and meat mains (lamb roasted over grapevine stems, rooster in wine sauce and pork cooked with cheese, all served with roast or fried potatoes) ...

... with a view of where the food and fuel comes from...

... topped off with dessert on the house (coconut cake, watermelon and tsikoudia). 

We drove through the Therisso gorge on the way back home. 

 Of course the food was all very good, but if I could suggest an improvement, I would say that servings are very large, a common problem in such establishments (we ordered three mains, not four, and we left one piece of meat from each dish, after realising that we could not stuff any more down, having already force-fed ourselves on the last bite we took). For a price comparison, see how much it cost us (4 diners) to eat out (left) and how much it cost me to cook a roast meat dinner at home for 10 people, with some healthy lunch leftovers that fed another 8 people the next day only four days ago. Our little day trip recharged our batteries, so it's back to lentil soup for lunch today - and I do believe I have got back into blogging again, after a fortnight's rest...

Drakona now boasts two Eat Crete tavernas: Ntounias and Tzaneris and Arhontissa (where we went). Make sure you get there and leave from different routes - the sights are different on each side.

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Dried herbs

It's that time of year again when I pack away my annually renewable dried herbs:

From top left clockwise, common oregano, bay leaves, basil and throumbi (a Cretan herb that is used in a similar way to oregano, especially good for marinating meat). More on Cretan herbs here: http://www.organicallycooked.com/2013/07/wild-aromatic-cretan-herbs_23.html

All my herbs were harvested from private gardens, except for the throumbi which came from the wild, respectfully picked in a small quantity to allow it to re-grow.

My hands now feel prickly and itchy, and I smell like souvlaki meat.

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Acceptance

The Greek economic crisis was always one hidden behind an identity crisis, which has only really come to be realised within the past month, as people begin to accept that there is no going back now. Not even first homes are sacrosanct - in the Greece of 2013, you could easily find yourself on the street without warning.

Green grapes, green beans and green energy - as good as it gets these days for most of us.
Our new BBQ is based on a typical Greek rural model - a recycled washing machine drum.

As summer wanes, the reality sets in. A clap of thunder has just sounded in the distance - better get my washing in...

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Clever people and grocers

A quickie before the heats steps up tonight when we set up the BBQ and I make pilafi.

Last night, I made a fleeting visit to a favorite relative (a banker) who was holidaying in Crete from abroad. It was just past 11.30pm - I knew he would be returning to his room that moment.

"Sorry I'm late," I excused myself. "I was preparing tomorrow's feastday dinner." It sometimes feels like a lot of work, even for me who is used to spending a lot of time on a daily basis in the kitchen, so I always start the night before. "I got the kalitsounia out of the way, at least," I said. Making kalitsounia involves rolling out, cutting and filling pastry shapes made from hand-made dough.

The first batch of kalitsounia - Χρόνια Πολλά to all those celebrating today, on the Assumption/Dormition of the Virgin Mary, including me:
Παναγιώτης, Πάνος, Πανούσος, Παναγής, Πανάγος, Γιώτης, Παναγιώτα, Γιώτα, Παναγιούλα, Γιούλα, Παναγούλα
Δέσποινα, Δέσπω, Ντέπη, Πέπη, Ζέπω *
Μαρία, Μαργέτα, Μαριέττα, Μαργετίνα, Μάριος, Μάρω, Μαριώ, Μαριωρή, Μαρίκα, Μαριγώ, Μαριγούλα, Μαρούλα, Μαρίτσα, Μανιώ, Μαίρη, Μαρινίκη, Μιρέλλα, Μυρέλλα *
Γεσθημανή, Ιεσθημανή
Θεοτόκης, Θεοτοκία
Ελώνα, Ελλώνα, Ελόνα
Ηλιοστάλακτη
Καθολική
Κρυστάλλω, Κρουστάλλω, Κρουστάλω, Κρυσταλία, Κρυσταλλία, Κρουσταλένια
Πρέσβεια, Πρεσβεία
Συμέλα, Σιμέλα, Σουμελά

"Wouldn't it be more time-efficient if you went out for dinner instead?" he asked me.

"It'll work out quite costly," I asnwered. I'm expecting a dozen guests. A meal of the kind I am preparing at home, with drinks, will cost about €15-20 per person. That's around €200 for an evening out. That's a lot of money in this day and age, about 1/3 of the average young person's salary, and 1/5 of mine.

"But your time spent preparing the meal may turn out to be worth that much," he said.

Basil: Are you a cook?
Zorba: If you need one, I am

Βasil: What I meant was, what work do you do?
Zorba: Listen to him! I got hands, feet, head, They do the jobs, who the hell am I to choose?
...
Zorba: And you mister, what do you do?

Basil: Me? I'm a writer.

Zorba: What do you write?

Basil: Poetry, essays...

Zorba: What's that?

Basil: Essays...

Zorba: You think too much, that is your trouble. Clever people and grocers - they weigh everything. 

I was suddenly reminded of Zorba: "Clever people and grocers - they weigh everything." I'd have to work five days to earn the cost of the meal, which would cost me at the most one day's work, and €45 maximum to produce (a good deal of the ingredients are from our own supplies):
- kalitsounia €4 (using garden-frozen spinach)
- BBQ chicken €15
- lamb roast €20
- roast potatoes €1 (a friend's gift)
- salad (from the garden)
- pilafi rice €1
- chocolate cake: €4

My sister, experiencing a Zorba moment.

My time is not worth €200. But my food is.

Χρόνια Πολλά to all those celebrating - but since it is a national holiday, I can wish you all Χρόνια Πολλά.

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Poor little rich kid (Φτωχοπλουσιόπαιδο)

Over lunch toay, my husband told me what sounded like a served-him-right story, something he saw take place at the airport three days ago, while he was waiting for a fare. But in light of yesterday's tragedy, it simply reminded me that no one is above the law, even in what once seemed to be a lawless state like Greece, which is now starting to look more like a monster.

The driver of the latest model BMW parked his car in a disabled persons' parking space and took out his mobile phone. He did not exit the car, he simply stayed there talking on the phone. A security guard approached him and asked him to remove his car from the parking space.

"Hey, I'm still in the car, mate," was his answer (or thereabouts, because I am translating).

The security guard was taken aback by the driver's arrogance, so he referred the matter to the police patrolling the airport area. An officer then approached the driver and asked him to remove his car from the parking space.

"What's your problem?" was the bright spark's answer. When he was told that he was parked illegally, the driver did a reckless U-turn and skidded the wheels for effect, revving the engine as he drove away to park on the other side of the airport, aay from the arrivals/departure area.

By now, it was obvious that something was ready to give. The police officer could have left the case where it was - after all, the prat had done as he was told, albeit begrudgingly - but there is little doubt that he would also have felt offended by the smart arse's behaviour. So he called his superior and described the case to him, asking him what his next move should be. He was told to arrest the driver.

The last thing my husband remembers is seeing a runty ugly looking young man ("he reminded me of a drug addict") being hoisted out of the car by three burly policemen. It was at this point that he recognised him: the driver of the BMW was the son of one of the town's biggest hotels.

Stories like this serve to remind us that the real crisis in Greece is an identity crisis - the economic crisis simply bought it to the fore.

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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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Still on staycation

With my August visitors all wanting to use the internet on their own devices, I've lost bandwidth, making blogging impossible. Here's a selection of photos showing what I've been up to in terms of cooking and travelling. All the photo captions come from my facebook page readers.

First up, we checked out my husband's handiwork: grafting wild olive trees to turn them into domesticated spieces: 

And when I was a kid thought this was like magic. I was sure about my father having secret powers that affected nature in many ways and all this equipment was part of a rural 007 that was taking up cases that before the eyes of the clueless seemed like senseless.

While at the village, we harvested the first round of figs from our trees:

 It's difficult to resist when you have a bucket of fresh figs

I'd always wanted to make carob drink, called haroubia (χαρουμπία) in Crete. My haroubia was a little astringent because I harvested the carobs rather early, but I know what to do and where to find some good carobs when they are at their best:

One of my favorite spoon sweets is that of sour cherry - I made a jar of this when I found sour cherries being sold at the market (they don;t commonly make thier way to Hania, as they are not grown here):

Quote by YIANNIS MARKOPOULOS: "Greeks want a computer by their side for their daily needs, but at the same time, they want to be able to plough their land."

One day, when I had some leftover cooked vegetables, I heated them in a small pan and stuck an egg in the middle - I recently found out that this is called φαγητό της ακαμάτρας (meaning you cook what you've got in the house and stick an egg in the middle):

I remember my mother cooking similar rustic meals when we were younger when the influences of her Greek village upbringing was still fresh.

While my sister was staying at my house, she helped me to roll up some dolmadakia - something she has never ever done before, which may surprise many of you...

Right after we cooked our dolmadakia, we went to Stavros beach, where Zorba originally danced the first sirtaki:

Just half a dozen kilometres away from Zorba's beach is the bay of Kalathas, where the swimming (and the surfing) was better - there is a tiny green island close to the shore that many keen swimmers swim out to: 

On the way back home, we stopped off at one of Hania's most famous landmarks and a good lookout point over the city - the Venizelos tombs, which have a view out to the Venetian harbour:

The next day, we visited a friend from NZ who repatriated to Greece like ourselves - he lives in a tiny neighbourhood in a small village near the south coast of Hania:

Then we hit the south coast - without a doubt, Elafonisi has to be one of the best beaches in the whole of Europe. Don't be deceived by the photo - half of Europe seemed to be holidaying with us on that day...:

We stopped off at the picturesque village of Elos, where 5 people ate a meal as big as this for 45 euro in total: 

I often remind myself that Greece is made up of a collection of images that play out as quickly, one by one, one after the other, as mere glimpses - if you blink, you may miss them. But when I pinch myself, I can feel the bite.

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