Author: Neena Taskar

Σταμναγκάθι, the dish that can only be made in Greece

When I was in engineering school, I stayed with my grandparents. My grandfather had decided that the only way to cure his diabetes was by exercise and the Atkins diet (This was in the 80’s, a very unusual diet for Indians). So, he would swim for two hours a day, eat soft boiled eggs for breakfast and make my grandmother cook meat everyday. Meat is not eaten daily in Indian homes, even in families who are non vegetarian. So my grandmother would accommodate him reluctantly, muttering about his eccentric habits.

She would also cook greens everyday along with the rest of the meal of rice, chapatis (Indian whole wheat tortillas), dal, vegetables and salad. At the time, I didn’t particularly care for greens and sadly, didn’t partake of them enthusiastically. It was only later on in life that I would discover the delight of fresh greens.

Eat local, they say. Although I use a lot of Indian lentils and beans in my daily cooking (who knows where they are imported from), fresh vegetables is something I have never bought from Indian stores. My nostalgia for Indian greens such as fenugreek, a particular favorite of mine, is assuaged by young dandelion greens, fresh from the garden, kale, chard and other local greens. I prepare them all the same way my mother used to make them, with lots of onion, lots of garlic and lemon juice.

Luckily, Shreesh also loves greens. So, armed with the recommendation of a good greengrocer from Crete who stocks the freshest produce (we found out later he also supplies a lot of restaurants) in Thessaloniki we were delighted to discover the amazing variety of Greek wild greens like the common golden thistle (Scolymus hispanicus, ασκόλυμπροι), endive (Cichorium endivia, αντίδια), common sowthistle (Sonchus oleraceus, ζοχοί), chicory (cichorium spinosum, σταμναγκάθι) and samphire/sea fennel (Crithmum maritimum, κρίταμο).

Out of these, the most commonly available is chicory or σταμναγκάθι, which is quite bitter. The Greeks prepare it by boiling, then adding a ton of olive oil and lemon to tame it’s bitterness. But could we cook it Indian style without quite so much oil?

Shreesh and I experimented in the kitchen. What we came up with satisfied me completely, σταμναγάθι cooked in oil spiced with mustard seeds and asafoetida, its bitterness relieved by the sweetness of onion and raisins and acidity from lemon juice and dried golden berries with a richness and depth lent to it by garlic. It is one of the more spectacular and unusual dishes we have ever made.

As our time here in Greece comes to a close, one of the things we will always remember are those greens, or χόρτα, universally present in all Greek menus, the actual green never specified but always understood to be that which is the freshest and in season.

Αγιογραφία

The art of Holy painting

Vasos at work

She works with 22 carat gold. Working with a piece of carved wood, she layers it with a white stucco like substance on gauze, then glues on the gold. Lots of gold. Then the classic figures of Byzantine art appear, Panageia (Mary) with Baby Jesus, the various saints, Jesus himself. All in the classic, 2D, slightly wooden style of Byzantine art. But the images, painted in primary colors in tempera, red, green and blue, highlighted with gold, are brilliant and seem to shine.

The living room, full of paintings

We are visiting Vasiliki, or Vasos, as introduced by a good friend, Kiriakos. Vasos has been icon painting for years and now teaches Kiriakos’ wife, Cornelia. She lives in one of those multi storeyed modern buildings seen everywhere in Thessaloniki. Although the building is unremarkable from the outside, Vasos welcomes us inside an apartment where every surface is covered with Byzantine style paintings, the brilliant colors lighting up the antique furniture. She even has paintings behind the gas range!

After the requisite welcome of Greek coffee, we are shown the studio, where paintings are in various stages of completion, painted on wood of different shapes and sizes, all with the requisite gold leaf. Adorning the walls are also “faiyum”, Egyptian portraits of the dead from the Roman times. Against the stylized Byzantine icons, these soulful images are startlingly alive.

The icon on the right, which we chose, along with a gift of one painted on roof tile.

We finally decide on an icon over a pomegranate liqueur. In our current living room, the icon lights up beautifully in the morning light. Devoid of any religious leanings, the icon envelops and holds all of our memories over the past 3 years spent in this beautiful Byzantine city.

TIFF 2019

The TIFF 2019 was a small slice of life with its own rhythm, when we dived head first into the world of films and emerged sometimes dazed, sometimes bewildered, but always enriched.

The pier on the Aegean, one of the venues of TIFF

The Thessaloniki International Film Festival 2019

The Thessaloniki International Film Festival.“Why don’t you go to the “Paralia” (seaside)? It’s very nice there with the film festival; people are happy…”. This, from our friend Trif, who had come to pick us up at the airport in Thessaloniki on our first visit to the city. After a 24+ hour journey, we decided against this treat and hung out at the local “στέκι” (hangout) instead.

An exhibit of paintings by the Greek director Nikos Koundouros

We had missed the first film festival, but we have attended every one of them since, and what a treat it has been! “Χαρούμενος” in Greek translates to “happy” but does not perfectly capture the meaning there. At the film festival, “happy” people are walking around with a feeling of excitement and anticipation, toting their cine catalogs, assiduously studying them while waiting to get into the theaters. Bars, cafes and tavernas offer discounts to cine goers. Films from known and obscure, national and international directors are shown all around Thessaloniki. The city throbs with the enthusiasm of the festival goers and of course, parties abound.

Cheese, salami, and the thick film catalogs – a typical lunch during the festival

“What is a good film and how do we rate it”? This question dominated our discussions as we sipped some Malagousia (Μαλαγουσιά) and nibbled on kolokithokeftedes (κολοκυθόκεφτεδες). The question confronted us every time we had to submit our ratings for the film we just saw. At first we were nonchalant about filling these out, then, in our Greek class, we learnt the history of audience participation. It started with film enthusiasts who were mostly students in the Β Εξώστη (a section of the balcony) vociferously repudiating the politically picked winners and advocating their own choices, eventually winning an official audience reward for best movie. After this, in deference to this hard earned right, we always rated the movies after giving it serious consideration.

The exhibit was at the pier, our favorite venue for the movies

Martin Scorsese said in a recent article in The New York Times (on films of the pre-Marvel age) “[A film] was about confronting the unexpected on the screen and in the life it dramatized and interpreted, and enlarging the sense of what was possible in the art form”. More than pure entertainment, we saw thought provoking films, films from different countries on different topics that reflect new perspectives, experimental films, cautionary films that won’t let us forget the struggles of peoples around the world.

The festival this year was rich with new discoveries. Our favorite movie was the Colombian director Alejandro Landes’s “Monos”, a film on the difficult topic of child soldiers with brilliant music by Mica Levi and breathtaking cinematography by Jasper Wolf. We had almost written off another one, “Der Kinder Der Toten”, an experimental political satire based on a book of the same name about Austria’s Nazi history until we met one of the directors, the American Kelly Cooper, for a wonderful chat by the seaside over a glass of excellent Xinomavro [Ξινόμαυρο]. What a difference it made when we heard about her husband (and co-director)’s struggles to immigrate from Slovakia, how they were housed in a cow barn during filming and how the book, never translated into English and a particularly hard read, was recorded as it was read piece by piece by the locals!

Lunch with new friends, a cine critic with his artist wife.

A common purpose and the general camaraderie present everywhere also made us some new acquaintances. A professor of journalism from Pennsylvania teaching at the university at Thessaloniki for a year with his wife who works with refugees. A student of history studying medicine in the Ottoman times who knows such diverse languages as Greek, Turkish and Arabic, because “How can you teach middle Eastern history without having read the Quran in Arabic”? An amateur movie critic with his wife who invited us over to a lunch in their delightful home and regaled us with stories from his travels.

Cine chats over a glass of rosé and an old Byzantine church

But most of all, it was a small slice of life with its own rhythm, when we dived head first into the world of films and emerged sometimes dazed, sometimes bewildered, but always enriched.

What do in Greece

I did not find Greece in the white domes of Santorini
Nor in the clear blue green seas,
But amongst the gifts and the welcome
Of Thessaloniki.

I did not find Greece in Acropolis,
Nor in the golden beaches,
But in the tales ordinary life
Told by extraordinary friends.

I did not find Greece in tourist Corfu,
Nor in the famed Chania,
But in a tavern, with an audience singing along
With gusto popular songs of lament.

I did not find Greece
Among guidebooks and ruins
But in the kitchen, cooking with
Strange and unknown ingredients.

I did not find the Greece of Aristotle and Plato,
Nor that of Homer and Troy,
But in the struggles of migrants and natives,
Facing their own nemeses.

I did not find Greece in museums,
In the company of Zeus and Athena,
But in the sad goodbyes of friends,
Now permanent in my heart.


Kataïfi (Κανταΐφι) and the Reason for Learning Languages

Kataïfi, as seen in most Greek bakeries.

“According to etymologist Sevan Nişanyan, the Turkish word tel kadayıfı (string-pancake or string-crêpe), referring to the vermicelli-like pastry used in kanafeh and other dishes, is based on the Arabic word qatayif (a pancake or crêpe), and appears at the latest in 1501 in a Turkish-Persian dictionary”. – Wikipedia entry for “Kataifi”

One of Shreesh’s favorite sweets, the “kataïfi” (kanda-ee-fi) is made with shredded phyllo dough stuffed with nuts and spices, then baked with plenty of butter and doused with sweet syrup. It is extremely sweet and crunchy and is seen commonly in most Greek bakeries and pastry shops.

The “Mavro Provato”‘s savory version of the kataïfi.

The “Mavro Provato” (Το Μαύρο Πρόβατο) in the Pagrati (Το Παγκράτι) district in Athens has a savory interpretation of this dish, the dough shaped into a vermicelli bird’s nest inside which baked eggplant, smoked cheese and walnuts nestle in perfect harmony, the taste highlighted with a sweet tomato chutney. It is a perfect blend of sweet-sour-smoked-fried flavors melding together flawlessly.

“But why are you learning languages”? “How will you remember all the languages you learn”? We are often asked this. We try to explain that our interest in studying languages is not  to become polyglots but in the discovery and appreciation of varied cultures through the languages we learn.

I doubt that we would have ordered the savory kataïfi at the Mavro Provato if we had not requested the Greek menu. (The English translations of Greek dishes is abysmal in most restaurants).The English version “angel hair pasta nest” sounds boring and unappetizing, but the Greek version “Leaves from kavaïfi” piques and tantalizes curiosity. Would we have appreciated the kataïfi as much if we had not known and tasted what the traditional version was like? The appreciation for the transformation of a traditionally sweet dish into savory, the use of ingredients endemic to the dish (walnuts) and to Greek cooking (eggplant and a local cheese) and the perfect balance of soft and crunchy is an expression not just of our time in Greece but of our life experiences.

“Kids, you must try this taverna”, our gourmand friends in Thessaloniki told us. Almost all of their recommendations had been par excellence, so we accompanied them to this taverna. The food was nice, but it failed to evoke in us the same level of reverence as that in our friends. What were we missing? The Greek greens (τα χόρτα) are often boiled wild greens literally swimming in olive oil and lemon juice. Were the greens especially fresh and at their peak? The olive oil and lemon juice perfectly balanced? Was our preference for hearty greens sautéed with lots of thinly sliced garlic, onions and tempered with mustard seeds and spicy peppers interfering with the inability to appreciate a simpler way of preparing them? Whatever the reason, a single mouthful for all of us encapsulated lifelong but very different experiences.

Like the peeling off of layers of an onion to reveal a humble but essential ingredient in most cuisines, we hope to get a deeper understanding of the local psyche, experiences that enrich and educate us. Following the news and social media today, I cannot help but feel that there isn’t a better time for all of us to understand and appreciate another point of view.

 

The Greek “Kerasma” (Κέρασμα)

“Kerasma” (το κέρασμα) or “treating” is embedded in the Greek psyche. We were first introduced to this phenomenon when our gracious landlady in Thessaloniki showed up with gifts for us a couple of days after we had first met. “Unusual”, we thought. Then, our friend the archaeologist exhibited the same behavior. We were the lucky recipients of wine from Mt. Athos and “trahanas” (ο τραχανάς”, a very traditional Greek product made by drying wheat flour or semolina mixed with milk or yogurt, then reconstituting it with milk and adding feta) homemade by his mother, just because I had mentioned how much I loved this dish. The same with the tavernas, the cafes, the vegetable vendors. “Its free” is a refrain we hear everywhere. In most traditional Greek tavernas, dessert is on the house, but you also get treated with a flask of tsipouro or wine on the house, especially if they know you or like you or both.
This behavior is so unusual and so widespread in Greece that we cannot help analyzing it. Is it because it makes a lot of sense to build relationships of your own when you mistrust the government that is supposed to look out for you? Is it a belief in “karma”, a hope that your kind actions will rebound on you in times of need? “You have to stop and make time to pickup gifts along the way”, a friend once said after a particularly kind act toward us. The Greek generosity is seen everywhere. It does not seem to be a particularly calculated or over-analyzed gesture, it just is.
When we first arrived in Thessaloniki, Shreesh and a friend were stopped by a fishmonger cum restaurant owner and gifted a whole night’s dinner for four people, cheese, pasta and a bottle of wine! Just like that, no strings attached. Whenever we go there, we are sure to get a whole dish on the house. At Olympia, miles away, a taverna (To Symposio, if you are ever there, visit it!) included an extra dish from the menu in our doggy bag. And when I accidentally knocked the contents on the floor, they brought us another doggy bag with a whole new dish!
We have found generous people everywhere. This is quite an antidote to the virulent negativity you see in the news. But I have never seen anything quite like this. Of course, in touristy spots, this behavior is blatantly absent. In Santorini, beautiful as it is, I felt oddly displaced for a while, until, to celebrate Shreesh’s birthday, we went to a taverna. Many hours and many “mezedes” and much wine later,, a full wine flask magically appeared on the table. “On the house”, the waiter said quietly. “Χρόνια πολλά” “Happy Birthday”. The owner’s gift to Shreesh for his birthday. I sighed with relief. Greece was still there, we just had had to scratch the surface.

Kumquats in Corfu

The statue of Ioannis Kapodistrias, first head of the Hellenic State

“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.

The crowded streets off Spianada Square, Kerkyra

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.

Wandering around old town before 8 in the morning

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.

Clotheslines stretched across the narrow alleyways of Kerkyra.

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 didn’t find Gerald Durrell in Corfu but did find Maria Callas!

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.

The Old Town lit up by the morning sun

Give me a word…

I oscillate between exultation and despair. “Are we ever going to get the hang of it? Speak in Greek, I mean”? I ask Shreesh. Shreesh says nothing. He has his own battle, he has found out he may be just a tiny bit dyslexic, not a good thing for learning a new script.

“You are learning Greek”? Pregnant pause. “Why”? The Greeks, just like the Italians, cannot understand this. Everyone asks us the same question and we do not have a good answer. It takes me back to the days, decades ago, when everybody was flying to the suburbs, people asked why we wanted to live in San Francisco. I could never explain. “It’s the life that I can feel throbbing around me”, I would feebly explain. Why are we learning Greek? It is certainly much harder than any of the languages we have attempted to learn as adults and I am not sure what we are going to do with it.

I feel the action will somehow provide the answer. Another common question we are asked is “But can you not learn it at a university in the US”? Of course we could. But that’s not the point. How would we know that the Greeks are a most friendly, open hearted people, who, inspite of the crisis, always have a welcoming smile? How would we learn about the τραχανας (trahanas), a porridge like gruel that is like comfort food in these parts? And only the Greeks would call a form of their music “skiladika” (loosely translating to “doghouse”, because they say the singers sound like dogs barking), which, to be honest, sounds like any other pop music…bad lyrics, easy rhythm and completely non intellectual.

I had a few places I was determined, as a child, to go to. Egypt, Africa, Greece and Macchu Pichu (because of Nancy Drew; I know, but I was only in middle school). If my goal was to learn about a rich culture, I am not about to be disappointed. There was never any doubt that we would come to Greece. And not because of the islands. It dominates a lot of historical and cultural education that we receive in school. Aristotle, Plato, Homer, Socrates, Archimedes…Greek culture is prominent in education, literature, science and the arts. Even then, I was surprised to find how intertwined Ancient Greek still is in modern Greek life.

“It’s like tuning in a radio”, Shreesh says, as we chomp down on another great meal at the local salumeria. At first, we could understand nothing of this foreign tongue. Nor could we read anything. Now, we can understand snippets of conversations. And read most signs almost effortlessly. I still, for the life of me, can’t match the cases of the pronouns, nouns, articles and adjectives, not without a lot of effort. I am back at engineering school, creating and learning flash cards all day, only to forget them the day after.

But I also get to eat exotic dishes at a restaurant with a view of an old Byzantine church, walk by the Aegean of the many colors everyday, stuff myself with puff pastry delights unheard of in the US and make friends with the local butcher, the wine merchant, the baker, as they attempt to speak s-l-o-w-l-y and c-l-e-a-r-l-y in Greek so we can understand them. And there is always the satisfaction of saying “Give me a word, any word, and I(‘ll) show you that the root of that word is Greek…”

From New Tech to the Old Historic

And here we go again; back into the almost forgotten but familiar struggle to find a supermarket, a grocer, a laundry, friends, a language, a culture, a life. Except this time we cannot read. Καλώς ορίσατε στην Ελλάδα. Welcome to Greece.

We left the city by the bay gleaming with tech where people are jacked into cyberspace to a Byzantine era city where the modern world often clashes with its ancient legacy (The city’s metro project was delayed by the findings of archaeologically significant ruins).

In Thessaloniki, we are deluged by newness. Alpha, Veeta, Gama, the alphabets render me useless on the streets, in a supermarket. Did I just buy milk? What is salt in Greek? Latin roots fail me when confronted by words from ancient Greek, such as wine “κρασί” (krasi), water “νερό” (nero), oil “λάδι” (λάδι). Thankfully, most people speak English or gamely try to work with me in the international sign language.

The Greeks seem to be friendly, garrulous, happy. Like the Italians, they are delighted if you say “Good Morning” in Greek “Καλημέρα” (Calimera). Our Airbnb hosts calls us after a windy night concerned that we would not have slept well. A fellow passenger on the same flight to Thessaloniki spends an entire morning helping us get a local phone, showing us the best bakery, sweet shop, cafe, grocery stores. Hospitality here is at an entirely different level.

On Monday, we start Greek lessons. Slowly, we will be able to read, communicate, converse. Maybe even assimilate a little bit into the local life. We will see that people everywhere have the same quotidian concerns, the same pragmatic conversations. Meanwhile, we are still absorbing with wide eyed wonder this small, age old place where the residents speak a mysterious, magical language, whose secrets remain enticingly out of reach.