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.

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.


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