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.

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Octopus In Wine- Luscious Drunken Legs

Getting an octopus seems so eventful, even though they are commonplace enough here. Frozen in every supermarket, fresh at every weekly market. The per kilo price goes up by size, just as you might expect- the larger offering not just more drama but more bite- those fat legs are so pleasing to sink your teeth into. 

Any time a group sits down to share one creature a primal sense of festivity kicks in- a thanksgiving turkey, a bison.... Sometimes I am lucky enough to find one huge fish for us all to share, and the delight around the table is considerably greater than amply sized individual fish ever occasion. We last had a good sized octopus when my cousins were visiting from Boston. As befit its size, we just simmered it, put it briefly under the broiler* for some chew, and gave it a vinegar finish for gentle zing. Sweet and saline at once with that nice bit of char, it was wonderful in the mouth, and beautiful to behold filling its large platter.

This week at the market I went late, and had no particular plan, so I was open to the offer of three medium octopuses for 10. They weren't dramatic, but there was plenty to be eaten. We thought of making them into a beloved dish- krassato- sauced with wine, and served- not at all incongruously- with fresh french fries.

Here's what we need for the dish:

for 4, generously-

1500-2000 g octopus (3 or 4 pounds)- we had three of 600 g apiece

about 1/2 C olive oil

an onion

2 glasses of wine

1 C grated tomato

a little salt

a couple of bay leaves

a whole clove or two

There's nothing to the dish but time and patience. Octopus, cleaned by the fishmonger, has absolutely no waste at all- it's pure dense meat. Having said this, it shrinks (denses up) considerably- shedding as it does a broth deep in color (maroon) and flavor (ocean). The raw octopus you buy may seem like overkill in quantity- it's probably not.

The first step is simply to rinse them once again and place them in a pot with nothing more than the moisture still clinging to their legs from the rinse:

Raw and wet in the pot, ready to simmer in
nothing but its own gathering flavorful broth.

After about 15 minutes, they will have taken up quite a bit, while starting to take on a pleasing redness:

Note the broth gathering in the bottom of the pot.

After another 15 minutes, they'll be darker still, smaller still, in still more broth, but still plenty tough:

Nicely pre-cooked- still a little tough and rubbery-
ready for the next stage.

This is just the initial cooking. They shouldn't get too tender, as they'll simmer in wine and tomato for some time until that reduces to a thick and glossy mahogany sauce. Tender is good, but we don't want them falling apart into mush.

For the next step we saute thinly sliced onion in some of the oil, and add the octopus (but not yet its juices) to this, stirring to coat:

Let the onions become translucent and a little
golden before adding the purple octopus.

Now add a good-sized glass of wine, the bay leaf, the grated tomato, and a whole clove or two. It will look like a mistake:

Fresh tomato and wine add a lot of thin liquid to the dish.
No need to worry.

it's not though- in fact we'll add still more liquid. Give it a moment to come together, then add a good quantity of the purple octopus broth that's been set aside, certainly as much as the wine. You'll have some left over perhaps. This gives you an idea of how much broth they produce:

An astonishing color

(I used about half, and froze the other half to enhance an octopus macaroni sometime soon.)

So now the octopus is really in a lot of liquid. It looks thin and watery and unpromising, and tastes of tomato and onion and wine- all separately and distinctly. You'll want to alt this a little, and add still more oil- certainly a small wineglass full in total. After 25-30 minutes at a simmer, this will all have thickened into a lustrous deep mahogany brown sauce, the onions melted and adding their shimmering thickness. Everything that was separate has come together into one soft, complex flavor. The sauce clings to the legs. Happily there's plenty of it to dip the fries into as well.

Mei Mei makes a perfect fry.

Richly sauced, firm and tender. 

*Of course, this was cheating- if you want grilled octopus, then grill an octopus. But to do so with any success you need to hang it out on a clothes line to dry out some- you know like you see on postcards from Mykonos- and they were leaving the next day so we made do with this method.

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