New Year's in Greece- More Family, More Feasting, More Everything.

Pressure to have a good time makes true enjoyment elusive. New Year's Eve as I knew it centers on a countdown, and don't even get started on who to kiss. Here in Greece, New Year's is a fat two day holiday (and you kiss everyone). Like many things on the charmingly relaxed Greek time table, the jovial Saint bearing gifts is later than everywhere else- it is St. Vassilis, not Claus or Nick, who slips down the chimneys of Greece, and he celebrates on January first (along with everyone named Vassilis or Vassiliki).

Like Christmas Eve Day, New Year's Eve day starts early- more little carolers, this time with a a different song. Same as before, save up your change. And if you had hoped to sleep in a little, set some earplugs out on your night table the evening before. But don't sleep too late- you'll miss them altogether. The door bell used to ring all day, not just a few groups in the morning.

When you go downtown to shop (and you should definitely go downtown- this holiday in particular, and Greece in general, is not about convenience), bring more change-carolers are everywhere- also very practiced students with instruments and varied repetoires. And like before, bring chocolates.

Go early so you can finish up in enough time to join your friends for an ouzo- everyone is out today and with even more "kefi" (Greece's boisterous, infectious joie de vivre). 

The best part of New Year's here is that there is a family dinner. There is all the glitter of soires as abroad, but they start after midnight. Before midnight, the streets are quiet and the bars and clubs are dark- everyone is home enjoying a large family dinner. Like elsewhere, someone turns on the tv a few minutes before midnight strikes to get an accurate time. The first person to step into the house after the New Year strikes who was not in the house when it did, is said to bring the luck of the year. For this reason, a few strokes before the hour, the halls of apartment buildings are filled with festively dressed children waiting to step in, right foot first, bringing with them good fortune. Everyone kisses everyone on both cheeks with good wishes for health and joy.

To ensure that good fortune may be as abundant as the garnet seeds of a pomegranate, a whole one is smashed against the wall to burst.  Like the glass at a Jewish wedding it is wrapped, although less festively in plastic. Still, the walls of our hallway are splattered deep purple towards the bottom- no plastic bag can contain the enthusiasm of children hurling good fortune- and it needs to split open for the luck to be released. This all happens quickly, because we then all spill out onto our balconies, to see the fireworks and greet our neighbors from across the streets and alleyways.

And the cold quickly chases us back in again, to cut the Vasilopita- the New Year's pie. 

The window of every neighborhood bakery-
this one in Ano Poli,
across from the church of Agiou Nikolaou Orphanou-
display the festive Vasilopita for 2016.

The pie is actually a cake, either a sweet yeast-risen butter-rich bread like a tsoureki (a challah or babka type of bread), or a simple orange and yogurt cake. A coin signifying luck has been baked into it. The cake is simply decorated with the New Year, often stencilled in powdered sugar. If this is the case, the pieces are identified by making in the sugar. Otherwise, we use a paper graph. The first piece is for the Savior, the second for the home, then there are pieces for each family member and guests, To even up the count, we often fill in with things that matter to us- our club, our pets (this is not strictly traditional- but surely there are many slices named for favorite teams....). This ritual is repeated throughout the month of January- in school classrooms, offices, and clubs of every kind.

You would think you would be tired by now. But after the children are tucked in, the streets jam with traffic. By one o'clock everyone is out in their way to celebrate. There are special holiday programs of live music, and celebrations of all the Vasillis and Vassilikis, private parties, and festivities at every bar and many restaurants. 

The morning of the New Year starts early if you have children- just like Christmas morning elsewhere, they want to see what is under the tree. We nibble on slices of vasilopita (and drink coffee), and relax with out families, If the sun is out, as it so often is on the first day of the year, we dress up and go for a walk- the promenade at the seafront is full of neighbors exchanging good wishes. We return home for another festive meal, grateful for the good fortune that brings us together.

And some us may take a swim.

Wishing you Health and Joy- καλη χρονια!

Read More »

Mediterranean Roast Chicken with Vegetables- A Sumptuous Weekend-Style Meal for a Tuesday.

The dish does take time, but not yours- you can devote yourself to the goings-on of mid week as the long roast makes house smell like Home with a capital "H." Those who live in large apartment buildings in Mediterranean cities with a strong mid-day meal culture recognize tempting familiar lunches as they go up in the elevator- fresh mullets frying, stuffed peppers baking, etc. It's gratifying to hear someone open the door exclaiming "I was hoping that was coming from here!" This is that dish- the one everyone hopes is theirs. It is yours for the price of a chicken, the most tired of your produce, and 15 minutes of a busy afternoon. 

One of the goings-on of our mid week is trying to find room for the produce of Monday's λαικι ("laiki"- neighborhood weekly farmers' market). Making room in the vegetable drawer, I found a half box of mushrooms and a single eggplant. On the table were the rest of the previous week's tomatoes- too withered for salad but by no means spoiled. New and irresistible from Monday's shopping were a bunch of delicate sweet carrots.

Chicken and potatoes in the oven with olive oil, lemon, and oregano is a beloved Greek dish, and our worthy starting point. The addition of the eggplant, mushrooms, carrots, and tomatoes made our dish still more generous and colorful. As they roasted, each vegetable became more like itself- the mushrooms and eggplant more rich and meaty, the carrots more sweet and mellow, the tomatoes bursting with tang. There was great variety of flavor and texture on the plate, all brought together by the rich chicken juices, the lemon and the herbs. 

Of course, you could use all fresh produce, specially bought just to make this dish. But there is no need- the week of gentle withering of the vegetables simply started the work that the roasting finished- concentrating their flavors and textures.

We will need:

A chicken as large as you like, or even better two small tender ones.

5 or 6 large potatoes

other vegetables of your choice- here we have:

a dozen mushrooms

an eggplant

5 carrots

3 tomatoes- these added much to the dish

the tops of a fennel bulb

several whole garlic cloves

some lemon zest and the juice of two or three lemons

a very large spoonful of dijon mustard- this also adds much to the dish

a wineglass full of olive oil

salt and pepper

oregano

another herb of your choice (sage here- nice with poultry)

Peel the potatoes and cut them into pieces, perhaps the width of two fingers. Halve the mushrooms, cut the eggplant into large dice, the carrots into 4 or 5 sections each, the tomatoes into large pieces (they will take up quite a bit in roasting- we don't want them to disappear altogether), peel several cloves of garlic, and put them all into your largest roasting pan. They should be about two pieces deep- a single sparse layer and they may dry out; too deep and they will steam rather than roast and turn golden:

Salt and pepper your whole chicken, taking care to salt the cavity as well. Put a garlic clove or two in the cavity, and half of a lemon- these will perfume the meat from the inside out. If you care to, carefully lift the skin from the breast without tearing, and put some fresh herbs beneath it- we used sage leaves here. It also perfumes the meat, and makes a fine appearance at the table. Place the chicken on top of the vegetables- they will serve nicely as a roasting rack.

Zest a lemon, and juice two or three more-

To this, add a large spoonful of dijon mustard, the herbs (fresh oregano is very good if you have it but dried is just fine), more olive oil than you would think is wise- certainly a large wineglass full- and salt and pepper. Whisk it together, massage the chicken with it, and pour the rest over the vegetables, tossing to see that they are all nicely coated.

Roast the dish at 180 C/350 C for an hour, turn it down a bit, and leave it in for another 30-45 minutes, even another full hour. The vegetables will be done after the hour and a half, but the extra time seems to do them no harm, and the chicken is probably technically done after an hour and a half too (74 C/165 F, with an instant read thermometer stuck into the thickest part of the thigh), but give it a little more time to be meltingly tender, coming easily away from the bone. Above all, make sure the skin is crisp, and a beautiful mahogany color.

It's a good idea to let poultry rest before serving to re-absorb some juices. Cover it lightly with tin foil so it stays warm while you set the table. If we'd done the classic chicken with potatoes, we'd need to make a salad now, but no need with all of these roast vegetables on the plate. Serve straight from the roasting pan- it's a handsome rustic dish just as it comes from the oven. There is ample juice in the pan, but we often have plain yogurt on the table as an informal sauce, sometimes mixed with chopped fresh mint and a little salt- a raita a la Greque (just like we serve with our stuffed peppers). Apart from that there is no need for anything else on the table. It is splendid the next day, if you have any left.

Read More »

Tomato Gratin- Two Wrongs Make a Luscious Right

February often boasts only Valentine's Day- a dubious blessing- and uncertain weather- no romantic snow, no promise yet of spring. The Greek Orthodox calender is running early this year though so we add to Valentine's Day both Grilled-Meat-Smoke Thursday (Mardi Gras. but Thusday instead of Tuesday) and Clean Monday (that's like Ash Wednesday celebrated by our Catholic friends), boxing in with wanton vice on the one end and refreshing virtue at the other our ten day Carnival festivity, such as it is.

A tempting gratin- bubbling cream and fragrant herbs not only conceal
 but transform some very uninspiring winter tomatoes.

That's a lot of holidays. But it doesn't change the fact that by February embracing the seasons has meant a couple weeks too many of cauliflower and cabbage for them to be very exciting, and that the artichokes and asparagus and baby zucchini of spring are a few weeks off (and tomatoes, further than that). And after all the holiday expenses, fancy ingredients seem out of order. That's another reason we need a little affordable luxury. Why the spiel? I'm justifying buying out of season, ending up with a couple of kilos of swollen pale tomatoes that were tempting in no way other than being round and vaguely red. This moment of weakness was followed by another- excess (cream) and the result was that two wrongs made a very delicious right. 

A little time in the oven helps lackluster produce tremendously. Plums dull eaten out of hand can be delicious in a pie, and pale, watery tomatoes find sugar and depth through a slow roast. I halved them and put them snugly in a baking dish, added handfuls of fresh herbs and some slivers of garlic, and plenty of salt and pepper.

For this dish we'll need:

5 or 6 enormous tomatoes

2 or 3 cloves of garlic

fresh herbs to taste- here we used sage and oregano

salt and pepper

later:

200 ml cream- 15% fat is fine

a handful of grated parmesan cheese

Fresh sage and oregano do well in their pots on the balcony and are both nice with tomatoes.

Two wrongs may make a right, but three do not. I will lavish cream on a formerly bland tomato to make it luscious, but turning on the oven for an hour plus just to rescue some cheap and bland tomatoes? That would just be sending good money after bad. I waited for a time when the oven would already be hot with something savory, and just slipped these in on the top rack:

The chicken and potatoes with lemon and herbs won't mind the extra moisture in the oven.
Bread, for instance, would make a less tolerant oven mate.

After almost an hour, much of the water had been shed and concentrated into a rosy juiciness, the garlic had roasted, and the tomatoes withered and more meaty and substantial:

The oven and the herbs have coaxed all kinds of sweetness and flavor out of the tomatoes. But they are still not a dish- they are just a sweeter better tasting component, and a pretty liquid one at that.  

Pouring cream over the hot tomatoes is what makes it a dish. Liquid on liquid seems to tighten it up- does the acid in the tomatoes maybe curdle the cream? Anyway pour the cream on the tomatoes and top with the grated parmesan and broil it on the top rack just until it makes a bubbly crust- probably not but 5 minutes.

We all love our roast chicken, but with the bread I threw in the oven at the last minute to crisp up, the juicy creamy tomatoes were the first thing to go.

Read More »

Crisp Fried Shrimp- Water and Light in a Bracing Baptism for the New Year

Classic Greek snack on this most Greek of days.

Our holiday season in Greece, rather than slowing down at the New Year, comes to a graceful and bracing close on the sixth of January. Twelfth Night, The Twelve Days of Christmas, brings us to the Epiphany- a holiday in name only in the land where I grew up, celebrated just by the most devout and well-informed. Here though, it is- literally- a very splashy holiday, centering around the Baptism of the Waters, a beautiful, cleansing spectacle which, were it stripped of its considerable religious significance, would be meaningful all the same. What happens is that the congregation of every church goes to a nearby body of water (in our happy case the bay of Thermaikos, Mount Olympus glittering in the distance) be that the sea, a lake, or a river. The priest, often from a boat, throws in a cross as far as he can- nearly always attached to a rope- and young men and boys, and happily sometimes a girl or two, dive in and swim competitively in pursuit of it. This ritual of a handful of the community braving the shockingly cold waters (inevitably, the sea is roughened by a north wind) cleanses us all. It is a joyous, exciting spectacle. A holiday of such austere purity brings our season of feasting to a redemptive and hopeful finale.

Still drenched by the icy waters, glowing warm with pride-
the boys have just climbed aboard after retrieving the cross.

After the waters have been blessed, everyone returns to the Church for the blessing. This morning I went to the head church of the Diocese. The festivities were grand:

A military band preceded the return of the Archbishop from the sea.

Looking up, waiting in an excited throng for the blessing-
a gentle bash on the forehead with a fragrant bunch of basil, as one kisses
the cross just retrieved from the icy bay.

The faithful have fasted the day before the Epiphany, but there is no one food customary to the Epiphany itself. I do not remember a cloud in the sky in any of the last 15 Epiphanies, and the winds are often high. The light is so cleansing it stings. And of course it unfailingly is- the holiday here is most commonly called Ημερα των Φωτων- the day of the lights (illumination). With water, water everywhere- the bright blue sea and sky and the white caps (so charmingly called "little sheep" in Greek) in the choppy waters- a little crispy fried seafood, a handful of olives, the vivid pink of some store-bought taramosalata, and a little cloudy white ouzo on ice is just the thing. It may be snapping cold outside, but who can sit down to a roast dinner in such Divine blinding light?

Fried shrimp-

There's nothing to these- just good oil, salt, pepper, flour and cornstarch, and of course shrimp- head on shrimp for juiciness and "wow"- even average, frozen shrimp will be good this way. A quick, hot fry makes all the not usually very edible parts- the head, tail, and especially the crispy little legs- the very best part. These are really more like a luscious bar snack for extending the ouzo than 'food' as such. The hot fry makes the shells brittle and fairly edible too- some of us like them just fine- they crack right off if you don't care for so much crunch.

These very average frozen, head on shrimp will be lusciously
 juicy and crisp after a quick fry.

All we do is rinse the shrimp (thawed, if they were frozen), and take off the really long tentacles from the head. Then we salt them generously and give it ten minutes or so to work its way in:

Why get shrimp with heads on? What they lack in meat
they more than make up for in juice and drama.

Add a few grindings of freshly ground pepper, then toss them in a mixture of equal parts flour and cornstarch:

Heat a generous couple of centimeters (an inch) of good olive oil. Not sure how hot? A cube of bread thrown in will begin to sizzle gently as soon as it hits the surface.

Key to success is giving our shrimp plenty of room- if they are large, just five or six at a time is fine. It is quick work- don't worry at all about the small batches keeping you long at the stove. As of course we'll hopefully be using the same oil for each batch, it's important to keep it clean- we do this by shaking each batch in a fine mesh strainer to get rid of loose flour and starch:

You can fry up to a half kilo/ 1 pound like this- any more and you'd want to change the oil so they stay rich gold in color rather than gray and black specked.

If the oil is hot enough the shrimp- slightly damp with their juiciness- will "koosh" promisingly at once- the oil frothing about them in golden bubbles:

It's not the heat of the oil but their contact with
the bottom of the pan that can cause them to blacken.
They like enough oil so they float freely.

After just a minute or two, you can gently turn them over onto their other sides. How will we know when they're done? When they look golden and perfect, they're done- don't worry about the meat being cooked through- they are not very substantial and anyway even after we scoop them from the hot oil they will keep cooking a bit from the residual heat:

Crumpled paper towels will cradle them, absorb any extra oil,
and most importantly let them breathe from beneath so they stay crisp.

Done this way- extremities crisped and plumped- the shrimp fill a plate with drama. Because of this, I wouldn't want them to have to share the table with anything else showy. A store-bought taramosalata for its classic decidedly un-shy pink, and a handful of glossy black kalamata olives make for a snack as bright and vivid as this divinely bright day. 

Ouzo on ice with plenty of water-
the classic choice with seafood,
 with none of the drowsiness of wine.

Read More »

Crab with Butter- Why Keep the Wow Just for the Weekend?

The National Gallery in London has three van Gogh paintings- 

the boots and the sunflowers 

(on postcards and dorm room walls everywhere), 

and this overlooked dreamy little sleeper. Beautiful crab.

Why indeed? If you think a tangle of bright red crabs on a brown paper-covered table signals a festive weekend lunch, try it on a Monday afternoon. We did just that- 

The paper table covering is littered with cheerful bits of shell
Even after a fat hour and a half, there are still bits and pieces aplenty to suck on
and crusts of bread to gnaw at absently. No one hastens from the table.

And I have to say it starts off the week very nicely, gives a sense of occasion to a day that characteristically lacks it. Crabs are plentiful right now where we live- they are large, and more importantly, very full. They are also very easy, at least from a practical perspective. Buying them is festive and eventful, provided you don't give it too much thought: at our market, the fishmonger holds them up one at a time so we can see them writhe and snap as they go into the sack. Such a vivid proof of freshness does have a price to your conscience, at least to David Foster Wallace's (and to mine but.... clearly less so). 

I addressed the awkward issue with the crab lady, who frankly did not see the problem. She did have a solution though- a while in the freezer will have them dazed and, one hopes, numb to suffering.

More drama than it looks here.

Into the freezer they go, just as they are in their sack. After an hour or so get out your largest pot and fill it two-thirds full (as to leave room for the crabs). Sea water is best, they say. And I have sea water just across from my house. But this is urban sea water, with urban stuff floating in it. Instead, I throw in a handful of salt, some peppercorns, a couple of bay leaves, and some tarragon sprigs (I just happened to have them- I wouldn't buy them specially)-

Covering the pot helps the water get to this vigorous boil quickly.

The partly frozen crabs will cool down the water fast. We want a full rolling boil when we start adding the crab-

This is the third crab- that's why the water is still again.

On the advice of the crab lady, I brought the water back to the boil and then from that point timed 15 minutes. Color is not enough of a clue- they turn from blue and gray to red almost instantly. 

The first time we made crab this season we made a nice spicy tomato spaghetti to have alongside, thinned with a little water the crab boiled in. No one bothered with it. The second time, we stirred some crushed garlic and minced parsley into melted butter. This was marvelous on the crab. The third time we realized we were out of butter and made a tarragon mayonnaise instead by mixing in minced tarragon, crushed garlic, black pepper, and a gentle scraping of orange zest. This was delicious, but overpowered the delicate flavor of the crab, so we had it instead as a savory dessert with little shreds of baguette while we were finishing our wine.

After a fifteen minute boil, they're ready.

Once the crab is ready, nothing to do but eat it. It is a primitive meal, a messy meal, full of dismembering and cracking and sucking. Covering the table in brown paper adds a relaxing note. Other nice things to have are crab crackers or nut crackers, a big bowl for discarded shells, lots of napkins, maybe a couple wedges of lemon (more useful for squeezing over your fingers than for over the crab), and of course that melted garlic butter.

We start with the claws- cracking the shell in a couple places first-then the legs, and then take the top shell off by grasping the the straight side- opposite the eyes. There are some lines of spongy white stuff under the shell that are not edible or nice- remove them from the body, then nearly the rest of it is sweet delicate meat. held together with whispers of shell that divide it into little segments. Nearly everything but the shell is food.

For four, I bought 12 crabs- in this case that was about 3 kilos, making them about 250g/half a pound a piece. Three of these each was a leisurely and satisfying meal, with nothing else at all save for the bread and the garlic butter. This would be terrific for a crowded table of friends- the only thing holding you back would be the number of large pots you have. But they take so long to eat you could be enjoying the first batch while the second is on.

Read More »

Greek Stuffed Peppers with Herbs and Rice (Gene Kelly and the Perfect Week)

So, on my way back home to Greece from California last month, I took United through Paris (incidentally so much more comfortable than Lufthansa for the cheap seats), and they had an endless entertainment menu, including Funny Face and An American in Paris. Our introduction to Gene Kelly comes in this clip here of him starting the day in his petit Garconiera. And this, precisely, captures the essence of a good day in the kitchen- one motion flowing to the next and everything falling perfectly into place- not a motion wasted (nor in our case, a crumb).

Just like we do before a big holiday, I start a good market week with a walk-through in my mind. The first recipe of the week is the one that uses the most perishable ingredients- the softest tomatoes and the herbs- and the bulkiest- the peppers. They also make good use of the food processor, which I take down only when it is really, really worth it. I look at what I am using for the recipe and what the waste will be (the herb stems, bits of onion and tomato). I also look at what is on hand that is in danger of going to waste (today, that's a loaf of day-old bread and some heels of three day old bread- bread is such a symbolically precious thing).

1. One thing the food processor is good for is making bread crumbs of these stale ends of three day old loaves. I cut them roughly into chunks and pulse them in the dry, clean processor before getting it all messy with the wet things. I'm already making a mess, and I already have the food processor out, so this adds only a minute of extra work. I put them in a jar and set them aside.

2. The first step in making the peppers is to assemble everything together- the peppers, tomatoes, herbs, onions, rice, salt, and oil. Choose the roundest firmest tomatoes for stuffing- 5 or so?- and choose another 3 of the softer ones for the herb filling.

3. The next step in making the peppers is to strip the leaves and fronds from the stems of the herbs. I do this over some newspapers, gathering the stems in a little stack as I put the leaves in a big bowl of water.

The three big bunches of herbs (parsley, mint, and fennel or dill) fill the bowl, and the stems left on the newspaper smell wonderful. Wrap them in the newspaper and put them aside.

4. Change the water in the bowl once to make sure there is no more dirt clinging to the leaves, and squeeze them before putting half of them into the bowl of the food processor, along with a peeled onion or two, cut in half. The outer layer may seem a little tough- put it in a bowl to the side. Pulse until well chopped and put in a large bowl. Take the next half of the herbs and another onion and now the insides of the tomatoes you want to stuff alongside the peppers, and blend.

5. There won't be enough tomato, so take the other soft ones and, instead of blending (you'll have those little bits of skin all over), grate them over the large holes of the standing grater.

This is a brilliant commonplace Greek kitchen practice- you get a bowl full of sweet smooth/chunky pulp and the tomato skin helps protect your knuckles from getting cut by the grater. Toss the tomato skins into the same bowl where the outer layers of the onions are.

So we have a bowl very full with a slushy mixture of herb and onion and tomato. This recipe has always, always magically worked out for me. But this is too vague to be helpful. So I measured what I ended up with the last three times i made them and it was always pretty close- about 7 or 8 cups, just shy of 2 l.

6. To this I add an astonishing amount of olive oil- a cup and a half. We're making a very large pan of peppers- it will last for two days of proper meals and midnight snacks eaten with the refrigerator door open, fork in hand, for four people who really like them. And to this, 2 and a half Tablespoons of salt (about 40 ml.). Now the surprising part: having chosen a short-grained plump rice that absorbs moisture with generous hospitality (arborio, carolina, sushi rice....), we will need just under three cups. Rice, by volume, comprises no more than 1/4 of the total filling mixture. (really- it's like magic.)

7. Now get out the biggest roasting pan in the house if you haven't already, and arrange the washed peppers and the hollowed out tomatoes, fitting them close and arranging them so they look nice- colors and shapes scattered throughout. Slice the tops off and take out the core, saving the lids to put back after you fill them. Peppers and tomatoes together, you will have 25 to 40, depending on their size. You might wonder how much to put in each- they'll swell, so don't fill all the way to the top. Generally it works out perfectly, like getting on an escalator- just

go ahead and it works out fine. Put them on a low-ish rack in the oven, at about 160C/325F, for a long time, maybe even 2 hours. They are not nice if the rice is crunchy, and soft rice regains its texture some as they cool. the vegetables should be a little withered looking, and there should be some liquid in the bottom of the pan.

8. After tidying up a bit, I take the saved stems (washed), and tomato skins, and layers of onion, and put them in a small pan of water, along with some salt, a few pepper corns, and a clove of peeled garlic. this takes no longer than throwing them out! To keep a vibrant taste, I let it simmer for just about 20 minutes,

until the onions look translucent, let it cool, and strain it through a fine mesh sieve into a bowl. I give the vegetables a good squeeze before throwing them away- that last drop of liquid is the strongest and best. I put it into a  glass jar and into the refrigerator. If I don't use it tomorrow, I will freeze it to keep it fresh. It's so nice to have these in the freezer- it turns a handful of pasta or green peas and a shaving of cheese into a fine little meal.

9. The oven is hot, the peppers are almost done, and we still have that loaf of day-old bread, so I tear it into long pieces- the ragged shape makes a nice crouton. Little hands would be good at this. With a little olive oil drizzled over them and a sprinkling of salt, they are ready to go into the oven just before the peppers come out. After they do, we leave the croutons in the hot oven, and turn it off as they continue to brown. It would be a shame to turn on the oven just to brown some old bread- now it crisps as the oven cools.

I'm not going to say this isn't work- stuffed peppers are an intricate dish- beautiful and delicious and worth the time because you will end up with a lot of them and they keep for days and are nice warm or cold.

 The nice thing is that for really very minimal extra effort, and really no extra mess, we took some things that were otherwise going to end up as mold or trash, and turned them into this: Bread crumbs (for the eggplant parmesan?), enormous jagged croutons for a panzanella and to top pastas or soups, and a fresh green broth for an acqua cotta or a spring minestrone.

Read More »

Rich Catch of Fish

That's almost as much fun to say in English as it is in German. The evocative name- originally used for an armchair- very happily describes lunch (although, it was not caught by me).

Usually I try to get to the weekly market before nine- the sun is full up but the street is still in shade, and there is a little dew on the lettuces and everything smells so green and fresh. But being detained by a book over three cups of tea has its advantages- namely, the fish goes way down in price:

(Third crate from the left top row- what was left of the striped bass after I bought mine. Incidentally, those one euro [!] fish are fresh anchovies that are as snapping crisp and hard as granny smith apples and I would have got them if we hadn't eaten them three Mondays in a row because they are delicious.)

I'm pretty sure these are the Mediterranean version of striped bass- here in Greece λαβρακια ("lavrakia." incidentally, slang for a rich guy someone is dating). Striped bass (striped 'best' in our family parlance, as our older daughter Charlene logically thought they were called that when she was little.).

So these were glorious fish. The fish monger cleans them after they're weighed, and does a pretty good job. What you want to do when you get a fresh clean fish home is this- put it in the sink, run your fingers over it from tail to head to check for any scales that may have been missed- especially on the underside near the tail and at the top near the head (the nape of the neck if it had one). Scrape these off with a sharp knife. With a pair of very sharp scissors, snip off a good bit of the fins, and anything really pointy- there is often a vicious spike near the top fin, for instance. Then give it a nice rinse under running water and clean the cavity of any vestiges of fish guts. I did this with the four fish, then packed them belly side up into a large plastic container. Fish like salt, more than you might feel comfortable using- imagine, lots of the salt will drain off as they sit in the fridge. I've rarely over-salted fish, and when I have, it has been not the amount of salt that was the problem but the length of time they had to absorb it (like if I don't get around to grilling them until next day's lunch for instance). Then squeeze lemon halves over them like crazy- 2 halves per fish, and stuff the cavities with the juiced halves. If you can afford to give them 2 hours in the fridge, that would be just about perfect. I could only wait 45 minutes.

Ideally, We would grill these over charcoal, but for a Monday lunch, the oven grill is fine- as hot as it gets (275 C!), with the grill pan in to pre-heat. We take the fish from the refrigerator and remove the lemon halves and brush them with olive oil, and we brush the hot, hot grill with oil too before laying on the fish (you will hear a nice 'ssshhhh' searing sound as you do, giving us every chance of a crisp underside). We put them in on the highest rack and check after 10 minutes, needing probably another 10 before they are blistering and black in some spots. It's the devil to turn them over without ripping the skin but you have to try- the charred skin is beautiful and very delicious- the bacon of the seas. This side will color and finish much faster, owing to the fish's being hot through and through now.

What do you serve with fish? Well, usually you would think a beautiful salad and some taramosalata, but really, these fish were over a half a kilo apiece and so luscious and charred and rich and beautiful, we had nothing at all, save some lemon and oil with a little minced parsley.

their discreet but plentiful dressing

 A lavish Monday lunch sets a very nice tone for the week!

(the armchair can be seen here: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Armchair,_Der_reiche_Fischzug_(The_Rich_Catch_of_Fish)_LACMA_M.2000.180.39_(2_of_2).jpg)

Read More »