Tag Archives: Greece

Food for three tables

*Updated with pictures 27/5!*

Before leaving the States, I decided that the two things I wanted to focus on the most in my trip would be food/drink and politics.  (Hence the [marginally misleading, as the only “voting” I’m doing is on nougats and cheeses] URL of this blog.)  I’ve sorely neglected both, so I’m going to risk a semi-long entry on the culinary highlights (and lowlights) of London, France, and Greece.
Best:  Borough Market
Worst:  The smell of burning cheese at Borough Market
New and unusual:  A book I paged through before leaving, London Culture Shock, notes, “Some of [London’s] shops feature live and jellied eels.  The latter cannot be described and have to be experience.  Once is enough.”  For me, zero was enough.
Other highlights:  They really do make a great fish and chips.  And a good British ale is well worth the 2 or 3 pounds–so cheap!–that pints go for in London.
Notes from 4/24 on Borough Market:
“Borough Market!  What a wonderful place.  Could be one of my favorites ever.  Everything for sale here.  Hits: French cheeses, British cheeses (notably, not as good or as varied as the French ones.  I sampled a very mild Cheshire but eventually settled on an excellent Welsh one.  Godwynn’s farm, or something, I think?  I love watching them slice the huge wheels of cheese so neatly with just a piece of string), asparagus in green and purpe and white.  Piles of mushrooms: tiny brown and cream ones the size of pinky nails called St. George’s Day.  Sold for the low price of 50 pounds per pound (or kilo…?  unclear) in one spot.  The requisite balsamic vinegar and olive oil stand had, I don’t know, at least 20 different varieties of oil and vinegar on sale.  While some were exotic things like white truffle oil, at least 10 of these were just different blends of olive oil.  Descriptions tacked above each tasting dish read like wine labels: ‘Smooth yet still distinct, with clear hints of balsamic herbs.’  Really.  Am I a savage?  It tasted kind of like olive oil to me…**
“The toasting cheese–augh.  There was a stand where they were toasting great rounds of cheese, huge pieces liquifying and burbling to be poured over potatoes or sausages.  What a STENCH.

“Ostrich meat!  Ostritch EGGS!  Kangroo burgers!!  I almost tried this last one but then lost my nerve, slash could not bring myself to spend 4 pounds on such a thing.  A chocolate shop with enormous bright cocoa pods mixed in with the luxury dark 89% bars.  At a neighboring stand, butchers cut meat right off hocks that still have little hooves on the end.
“Meats in general much more closely resembling original animal.  Dried (preserved?) pig head above sign advertising pork for sale (complete with cartoon figure of pig on crutches grimacing).
“Really very crowded.  I hear lots of French (common theme for my time in London altogether).  Of course alcohol on tap is for sale.  Major emphasis on wine, especially champagne.  One tall flute costs three pounds. Plaque in nearby church courtyard saying ‘no drinking!’: roughly 8 x 11”, half-hidden behind a bush.
“Fudge booth.  Olive-skinned men brandishing tiny Turkish pastries in pairs of tongs shouting and beckoning to all passerby: ‘Sir!  Mademoiselle!  Bonjour!  Come try!’  Narrow alleys connecting markets.  That guy selling the random magazine again, ‘The Big Idea’ I think.  Why do they sell these only in darkened street corners?  Weird.
“Seafood!  Peple sucking oysters right out of shells.  Heaps of scallops with clumps of sea scum and mud still frothing the shells.  Fish on ice.  Fish with jaws gaping.  A giant halibut with a cod being severed between its lifeless jaws.  Live lobster.  I tasted a…sauce? topping? dressing?…made with cuttlefish ink and cuttlefish flesh.  Heaps of slimy purple squid lined in rows.  Even the fish queue here.
“The handsome freckled Welsh boy who sold me the Godwynn cheese is the one who remarked, when I said that three days in London was not enough, ‘A lifetime in London is not enough.'”
Best:  A dessert called Ile Flottant.  Light, creamy cloud of fresh meringue in a pool of sugary caramel sauce.  Antoine ordered this at a restaurant in Bretagne and offered me a taste.  Sweet God, angels were singing.
Worst:  A tie between being charged 2.50 euro for about 4 ounces of hot chocolate and the spectacularly bloody shark heads at the Port-en-Bessain market
New and unusual:  Eel.  Snails.  Frog legs.  Oysters.  I liked them in that order.  Snails are really tasty–like saltier, chewier mussles.  Oysters taste like fleshy seawater.
Other highlights:  Making chocolate-chip cookies for the French family!  Wine, cheese, seafood, Georgette’s cooking, Jean-Vincent’s cooking.  I am a lucky lady on the host and hostess front.
The escargot experience:
They give you a special fork for this

Les escargots arrivent...

She's gonna do it!

On va en essayer un...

Mmmm good!

Voila la fin! Delicieux!

Notes from 4/30 on our first night in Normandy:
“We got to Sophie and Jean-Vincent’s house around 7:30 pm.  Most everyone has a cigarette, we all have a beer.  More smoking, more talking.  Jean-Vincent shows us the giant side of pork that he’s roasting in the oven, and the special side dish he’s made out of apples–a Normand speciality–and cabbage–more of an Alsace trademark.  Jean-Vincent opens wine.  We drink wine and beer.  Smoking, talking.  Discussion of Obama, Sarkozy, Sarkozy’s wife.
We talk until 9:15, when we decide to to put plates and forks and such on the table.  We have some champagne.  Smoking, talking.  We drink.  Smoking.  Finally, Jean-Vincent takes the meat out of the oven.  We sit down.  Everyone gets a glass of wine.  Everyone gets served meat and the vegetable.  Bread (of course).  More wine.  We talk.  Wine.  Meat.  Smoking.  Discussion of British and Australian inability to cook quality food.  Discussion of my inability to pronounce the French “ou,” as in “oui,” “coucou,” and “pou,” meaning lice.  Discussion of Jean-Vincenct’s inability to pronounce “lice.”  After the main course, cheese.  All Normand of course.  Names I know like Camembert, names I don’t like Pont Eveque, many other names I’ve forgotten.  Smoke talk smoke talk play with the dog and the cat.  Cheese, wine, Calvados (liquer made from apples).  Talking.  Discussion of the history of Normandy.  Dessert: a heavy rice pudding, deliciously sweet and creamy.  Wine.  Calvados taken with sugar.  Talking.  Smoking.  Talking.  Coffee.
“It is now after 1h.”
“I love France.”

Engaging in the other celebrated French pastime

Wine, Calvados, coffee

Best:  Even though we were in a rush to catch a ride from her friends, Danai (my hostess on Mykonos) made sure to fill me a 1.5 liter bottle with olive oil from a jug given to her by a friend.  The friend’s family made the olive oil on their farm in Crete.  It’s so rich and sweet, you can drink it from the bottle.
Worst:  I can’t really do ouzo so well
New and unsual:  Some kind of dried meat on Mykonos.  I don’t really ask questions anymore
Other highlights:  What can I say?  They’ve had 6000 years to perfect this stuff.
Dinner on 5/8:
As part of your profile, CouchSurfing asks you to fill out your “current mission in life.”  Giorgos, my host on Syros, wrote that his mission is “to teach how to cook yamista!”  I’m glad it is, because I now have his not-so-secret recipe scrawled in my notebook after watching the master at work.  The hardest part of making yamista, or stuffed peppers and tomatoes, is overriding your instinct to be conservative in use of fats and oils.  Cook arborio rice in fresh tomato pulp, onions, cucumber, garlic, and a handful of parsley, use to fill tomatoes and peppers, lather all surfaces with olive oil to depth of several inches, cook in oven until you’re too hungry to stand it.
We also had “real” tzatsiki–Giorgos’ homemade recipe involving a nice handful of garlic cloves, shredded.  The sweet-sourness of the yogurt and the sting of the garlic play off each other very well.  A lovely balance with the cucumber mediating in the middle.
And, of course, Greek salad, topped with huge cubes of rich, dense, salty feta and also floating in a few inches of olive oil.  It’s not for nothing that Athena is said to have won guardianship of Athens through her gift of the olive tree.
For dessert, fluffy white clouds of nougat made with Syros honey and light and chewy pieces of sugared marizpan soaked in rose water.  This last one is very east meets west.
Filling the tomatos and peppers

** Actually, I went on an olive oil tasting spree in a square in Split a few days ago, and I COULD taste the difference between the oils from different regions.  A clear sign I’ve been in Mediterranean countries too long.



I’m sitting outside at a cafe in Syntagma Square.  About thirteen inches to my left, the glass panes of the windows are shattered into spiderwebs.  Some two meters behind me, I can see the yellow pay phone booth where yesterday, I lost my phone card when a man grabbed my shoulder, screaming in Greek, and I turned to see a cloud of tear gas rolling towards me.

Yesterday I watched men shatter bank cameras and windows with their fists and sticks while they jeered at police and lit Athens on fire.  For some reason, though, it wasn’t until right now, watching pigeons flutter onto a table through the space where there used to a pane of glass, that I really feel sad and scared.