“Kumquats were first brought to Corfu in 1846 by the English botanist Sir Sydney Merlin. Although (when) raw its taste is bittersweet and not particularly juicy, it has so many uses that it has become a Corfiot trademark.” – Greek Gastronomy Guide
You see kumquats everywhere in Corfu. Shops glow orange with bottles of kumquat liquor and they are piled up among most fruit and vegetable vendor’s displays. Although not particularly fond of citrus fruit, I have always liked kumquats. They are fragrant and not cloyingly sweet and most importantly, you can pop them in your mouth without getting your hands sticky.
When we arrived in Corfu, my reaction was not positive. Heat and crowds were everywhere. Stepping out from our Airbnb on Spianada Square meant being enveloped by shops selling clothes, jewelry, magnets, postcards, kitchen utensils carved from olive wood, purses, sponges and the omnipresent kumquat liqueur. The old fort, a “must see” item, opened at 9am when the sun was already beating down mercilessly, causing me to rapidly seek shade and coffee.
I had selected Corfu as it has only one connection for me, Gerald Durrell, whose books I read and enjoyed as a teenager that transported me to foreign lands and exotic animals. But try as I would, I could not equate Corfu to the serenity of nature. “Help!” I sent a desperate
request to friends in Thessaloniki. Where do I find a reasonable place to eat?”
“Gregory’s Fish tavern”, Astrakeri, is about an hour’s drive from the old city. The Astrakeri beach is a “downmarket” beach, which also means it’s not crowded. Gregory’s was a tavern perched above the sandy beach with tables under a cool pergola overlooking the sea. I breathed with relief as I heard only Greek around me. The food was spectacular, cuttlefish simmered gently in a spiced tomato sauce (bourdeto, μπουρδέτο) and perfectly grilled sea bream (τσιπούρα). Greek music was playing quietly in the background. A stairway from the restaurant accessed the beach. The slope of the beach was gentle, the waters warm, a few people sunbathing on the beach, fewer paddling around in the water.
The next day, we took a walk early in the morning before the tourist stalls opened. A woman drying clothes outside told us to beware of the coming storm.The Orthodox priest from St Theodore church recited to us how a widow saved many paintings from the war against icons (η εικονομαχία) that are now in the church.
Later, we returned to visit a little known Serbian museum in the old city which tells the history of the Serbs in Greece. (I had given up on the Top Tourist Attractions listed by the guidebooks by now). But by then the tourist stalls had completely masked the early morning magic. Sighing inwardly, we retreated to a beer-grill-tavern (ζυθοψητοπωλείο) that doesn’t have great reviews on Google but turns out a great lamb pastisada (παστισάδα). (And, however tentative, I established a connection with Gerald Durrell as apparently the Durrells used to patronize it).
We have one more day in Corfu. I doubt that I will experience that magic moment when you make a leap into the local culture, when the visitors and the visited reach a perfect understanding, however ephemeral. But today, like tasting a kumquant, I got a whiff of the fragranc
e when the city glowed in the morning Sun.
