Provocolate: Pieria

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Monday, May 23, 2016

Ancient Dion- Accessible, Relevant, and Touching

Dion, sacred site of the Ancient world, is worth preparation and study, and time to devote to it. We have none of that. We are on a whirlwind trip of one of Greece's richest regions- a schedule packed with glorious sights, events, and grand dinners. Pieria is fantastic- not an hour away from Thessaloniki, there are beautiful beaches, traditional villages, rustic wineries, great food, this spectacular ancient site, and all of it at the foot of Mt. Olympus.

I've been here before on a private tour of friends- one of us has been here excavating and analyzing over 20 years. It's pretty spectacular, and it was then too- a sacred, ceremonial place devoted to Zeus and his daughters the Muses, place of victory celebration (of Phillip and Alexander), and of a nine day festival of athletics and drama in honor of Zeus (and the nine Muses). They also celebrated the new year here- then, around the end of September (Doesn't the rhythm of the back to school season always feel like new year now? Or harvest to harvest?)

It is a luxury to have access to beautiful ancient things all the time. It takes the pressure off. You can always research more, return at your leisure. But I know, very well, what it's like to visit a museum or a site that is far away. You feel so obligated to take it all in that it becomes more daunting than joyous. The best solution- just let it wash over you, absorb yourself in the impressions that immediately take you up in their wake. I had the luxury of trying this out on my second visit to Dion, and I enjoyed it tremendously.

We had a guide, but I to be alone. You like a little passion with your archaeology. The quickest route to passion? Identification. The 'why' of things is so easy to grasp- it closes the millennia like nothing else. A society that seems to have nothing to do with you was made up of people you completely understand. The best use of the cell phone and head phones ever? Wandering and gazing and calling my friend Eleni Benaki for her wisdom in my ear.

The first engaging thing? These footprints, and... another ear.

The feet are the size of feet, making the ear abut the size of my hand. Right away, they put me in my of a tama, a huge stone tama. Τάμα are gifts to the saints for intervening into our affairs, especially for health, either as pledge, or as thanks. The next day, in the beautiful restored village of Agios Panteleimonas, at the church of the same name and the icon of the same Saint, we see modern day tama:

Some jewelry- bracelets and rings- but also small plates of precious metals with the relief of a whole body or, like these ancient stone tablets, a body part- arm, leg, eye, ear.

Are these tama? Yes, in their way. Were feet healed? No- these are the footprints of the mother and father of a much wanted healthy baby. And the ear? It's not the ear of the giver, but the ear of the God- a way of saying "Thank you for hearing our prayer," again, for a healthy infant. Anyone who has been filled with gratitude for a blessing can understand these at once- the ancient past becomes a lot less abstract.

The same theme of the bond between parent and child in a poignant image. On this grave stone, we see the mother and child separated by death

The scene is full of tenderness- right away you notice the hands entwined, the whole of the toddler's arm not quite the length of the mother's forearm.

Then the small chubby bare feet between the mothers'

In the lower left, a pet rooster? The child reaches high to grasp the mother's hand with the right. With the left, he lowers a biscuit into the rooster's gaping beak.

From the poignant to the joyous- a hydraulis, consisting of a row of 24 pipes of bronze and another of 16, said by ancient accounts to make music that is "sweet and joyful." Also joyful, the account of its finding, down to the very memorable day- a recent one- the 19th of August, 1992

Dion is just the first of our day's adventures, and so we do not see the whole of the park- which is magnificent and you will want to take in at leisure when you visit Pieria, and you may well want to to do. But the glimpse does it. Dion was built here for a reason- the great and sacred mountain, the bountiful flow of water. Were the wildflowers the same? Likely so. It is Spring, and the statues and ruins are noble and romantic among the lushness of the flowers and the weeds-

This site is very useful for planning a trip to Pieria :
http://visitpieria.gr/

More Pleasures of Pieria:

A moonlight tasting
at Kourtis Vineyards.

Mountain Chic- Dining with
Zeus at Gastrodromio
in elegant, laid-back Litohoro.

Mountain Chic- Dining with Zeus, and Drinking Perfect Espressos

We are just into our first course at Gastrodromio- basically, bean soup and some anchovies- when someone says "Why is this guy not in a big city? This restaurant would be huge in a big city."

This is what I like about Litohoro- laid-back self-confidence. You want huge? Mount Olympus is right outside the restaurant's door- three blocks up on your left- you can't miss it. Our chef- Andreas Gavris- is interested in great, not huge. He's also interested in authenticity, and terroir. He makes elegant meal - three savory courses, dessert. They're beautiful but not fussy, inventive but not gimmicky. We taste the Greek pantry afresh. The menu describes the courses in detail.

Our menu, my notebook with notes on Dion and on the wines we are enjoying.

The are all made of conspicuously, almost aggressively modest ingredients. That in itself is supremely elegant- in the midst of an economic crisis, and a refugee crisis, showing reverence for basic things shows taste, grace, and gratitude. The very simplicity of the ingredients lets us be aware of the luxury of not going hungry. But there is nothing modest about this meal (incidentally, it is a Louis Vuitton city guide selection).

Our table is plentiful, festive, playful. The first course- the humblest of soups, and the humblest of fish, re-imagined. Greek-style white bean soup veloute, and marinated fresh anchovies (boquerones), a dab of melizanosalata (a Greek babaganoush) on the side. The bean soup has a meaningful context- it is the classic meal served to hikers at the mountain lodges as they make their way up Mt. Olympus.

These are perfect together- hot/cold, creamy/crisp, bland/piquant. Pulses here are classically paired with smoked or pickled fish and pickled vegetables as a condiment. Not usually fresh anchovy though. At a couple euroes a kilo, they are cheaper than good white beans. I know- we fry them every Monday, market day in my neighborhood, to have the cheapest and tastiest protein of the week. We eat the bones, if they're small enough. The house cured ones here are like velvet with some bite- silky plenty of verve.

Our second course is a cabbage roll with mushrooms rather than meat, and cracked wheat rather than the traditional rice. Saffron in the avgolemono sauce is an upscale touch, but it's local- from a couple of counties over. I'm writing fast, but we're eating slow, vintners stopping by, some of us table hopping for a chat about the wines, all local, all lovely- the vintners too.

At this chic French pace, our main course eventually comes, and I'm telling you, it doesn't sound like much- Gida (old goat- like mutton but from a goat) over trahana (a sort of pasta of rustic grain and fermented milk). Well anyway the seventy or so of us- three glasses of wine into a convivial afternoon- fall silent at least for a moment. This is the richest, most tender, toothsome and satisfying dish- subtle, delicate, earthy, sophisticated. The thing about goat- if you haven't eaten it you might not know- it's got to graze- it eats wild things, and it tastes of wild things. It climbs rocks and builds muscles, and texture. It commands respect, and makes you grateful you're a carnivore. The dish is napped with melted butter, seasoned with smoked paprika, underscoring the richness, giving the gaminess finesse.

The trahana has a bite that yields- creamy and gentle with some personality and like you always hope a risotto will be but almost never is. This is the most delicious meat course I can ever remember having.

Dessert is beautiful-

The same theme- a fresh view of the simplest things. A semolina pudding on a toast of tsoureki (like challah) jammy syrup fruits that are part of every traditional Greek pantry, some edible blossoms.

We're at the table until the shadows outside the window grow long Litohoro has an unusual arrangement- the main street, which runs straight into Mt. Olympus itself, is lined on the left with cafes and restaurants and on the right beautiful parks and green fields, no buildings but for the town hall. All the open charm of country, and much of the charm of cosmopolitan life. Lefteri, our host from the Chamber of Pieria, invites a small group of us to taste a little more of it- down the street, his friend is having an art exhibition.

We come to Cafe Liagas. It's elegant without trying. This small mountain village captures the essence of urban chic- not seeking to impress, or be impressed- just having things be their authentic best because they like them that way. We drink the best espresso outside of Rome- a scalding hot demi-tasse just half-way full with a thick head of foam, share bites of a perfect rich fluffy definitely not modern chocolate pastry, and look at the original prints on the walls.

Vangelis Liagas has great taste- apart from the original art, the sole decoration is a vintage mirror advertising the chocolate everyone grew up eating.

Greece has a genre of sweets called "pastakia"- "pasta" is pastry, "aki" is a suffix that means small. There are lots of different kinds- the best ones being like a Little Debbie's cake, but handmade with fresh ingredients- a chocolate shell that cracks a tender yielding cake and fluffy cream filling. We have them at baptisms all the time. Liagas' are beguiling in their refrigerator case (vintage like the mirror), and I get a box to take home- we don't have any this elegant in the city.

Pieria- region of Mt. Olympus and Dion- is just south of Thessaloniki- it is easily reached by bus or train, and close enough that I would go for dinner if I were driving (45 min?). Katerini is the capital and Litohoro is the chic village at the mountain's base. This site is very useful for planning a visit:

http://visitpieria.gr/english.html

Travel Bloggers Greece and I were guests of the Chamber of Pieria. My enthusiasm is my own- it is a region rich in every delight of Greece.

More pleasures of Pieria-

A Tasting of Delicious Wines
at the Rustic Kourtis Winery

Wine Tasting in the Land of the Divine- Mount Olympus

"I have never raised so many glasses of wine in 48 hours." This, without irony and without drama, in response to the question:

"But how could you be tired? You've been at a Five Star Resort."

I have indeed- hosted with the warmth (and loving excess) that marks Mediterranean hospitality in general, and the hospitality of the region of Pieria (Mt. Olympus, Dion, monasteries and museums, and much rural beauty) in particular. I am there along with 70 of my colleagues- people who love Greece, and love to talk about it. Wine was an integral part of our journey. We drank in the essence of the landscape, guided by the hands who tend it.

In less time than it took me growing up to ride the A train from SoHo out to Stillwell Avenue in Brooklyn (Coney Island) to swim, I can be in the center of Katerini. A bus leaves from Thessaloniki every half hour, and there are many trains throughout the day- a perfect day or weekend trip. It's a really fine town- more cosmopolitan than a village, but small enough that the structure of public life is not frayed by anonymity. Like R. W. Apple Jr. wrote of Lyon, it's as though they liked the 1950's so much they decided to stay there. This means: good manners, broad treesy pedestrian walks, and people dressing for promenade.

Plus, postcard pastel Vespas, and sleepy cats in just the right shade of orange.

As also is said of Lyon, they dine very, very well- elegant, honest dishes (deserving a post of their own).
This is not a wine tasting tour- wine is just one thoughtfully curated aspect of the whole experience. But that experience does start at a winery, and it's not Napa. We are in the bus a good long time, making sharp turns back and forth as we climb a steep hill. The headlights of the bus catch the tree trunks thick at the road's edge. We're pretty far from anything like electricity and the moon is small and high- it's a landscape that makes you feel thrillingly a little lost, and in that that heightened mood of finding something hidden, we arrive at the edge of Rachi- a few stone houses, a streetlight. The bus won't fit, and we walk in the mountain-clear air. It has a bite, tempered by the smell of wood smoke. Stacks of split wood in an outdoor kitchen- central to Greek country life- announce the rustic, authentic character of the Kourtis Winery:

Just off to the right of the patio are the wines in their modern vats. Apostolos Kourtis introduces us to his young winery.

Apostolos Kourtis with my friends from Travel Bloggers Greece
Chrysoula Manika (l) and Marissa Tejada

Someone is asking what sound like all the right questions- about things like elevation and soil. Things I do not know enough to ask. The answers illuminate little.

In a stone cottage across the road,

Rosy Rosé

there is a cava, and a tasting room upstairs. My friends and I end up sitting next to a genial, well-informed couple- the same that were asking the interesting questions. This is lucky- the couple shares their experience at wine tales, and are vibrant with knowledge and joy. They share both. And with glasses in our hands, wine begins to make sense in a way it never has before.

Our companions share a simple, beautiful truth- wine follows the path of life just like everything else, and all the impressions it contains- olives and almonds and apples alike- follow this path too. The flavors in the wine (the apples, the olives) are fresh and light and green when they are young; as they mature they acquire richness and depth. The green olive becomes in time a rich olive paste; the tart fresh berry grows dark, jammy, juicy and ripe.

This makes wine like us- replacing the bright, ephemeral freshness of youth with, we hope, fullness and complexity, as a thing becoming evolves into a thing that has become.