Wortelcake (Κέικ καρότο)

While I'm away on a short break, I've posted this recipe to remind me of what I have to start doing when I get back home and Greek schools open for the new term. Cupcakes and muffins with added fibre are perfect for healthy school lunches.

A Dutch friend put up a recipe on her facebook page. I had no idea what the recipe was for, since she had no pictures attached to the recipe. All I recognised was the word 'cake'. Here is what I saw on the screen:

Wortelcake
-200 gr geraspte wortel
-geraspte citroenschil
-3 ei
-125 gr witte en bruine suiker
-150 gr gesmolten boter
-225 gr zelfrijzend bakmeel
-2 afgestreken theel. kaneel
- snufje zout
-125 gr gewelde rozijnen (of in reepjes gesneden gedr. vijgen, walnoten)
-----
-oven op 175 gr.
-wortel, citroenrasp, eieren, gesm. boter, suiker mengen
-voeg toe: zelfr. bakmeel, kaneel, zout, meng weer
-voeg toe: rozijnen (noten)
-cakevorm invetten, bestuiven, mengsel erin, 45 min. bakken tot gaar.
-----
-1x vanillesuiker
-50 gr poedersuiker
-50 gr roomboter
-1 pakje Philadelfia creamcheese (125 gr)
door elkaar roeren, op cake smeren en 15 min. in koelkast*

Using this recipe, I made the best carrot cake muffins ever: moist, delicious, perfect. Instead of rozijnen, I used dried blueberries, and instead of creamcheese my own natural-coloured beetroot-strawberry jam icing. Isn't Google translate great?!

©All Rights Reserved/Organically cooked. No part of this blog may be reproduced and/or copied by any means without prior consent from Maria Verivaki.

International Cuisine Saturdays (Διεθνή κουζίνα)

I have the travel itch, but I won't be travelling quite as soon as I would like. If travelling is in your plans, you might be in need of a new suitcase. CSN's luggage stores have offered me a $45 gift voucher* to give away to one of my readers, valid at any of their online stores. Leave a comment on this post and you will be in for the draw. The winner will be announced in 10 days' time. Good luck and have a safe journey!

As I'm writing, I'm dreaming of going on a mini-break to an urban centre where I could browse through the shelves of bookshops with multiple floors, feel the veins of history by visiting well-known monuments, admire architectural feats while sitting by the window of a train, and eat my choice of any kind of international cuisine that takes my fancy. This time last year, I was in the midst of planning an exciting trip to Paris and London. Holidays abroad aren't possible every year, even without an economic crisis, so this year, I'll content myself by browsing through our holiday shots.

What started off as a creative way to use leftovers has now become an institution in our home. I began presenting regular Greek tastes in unknown forms, as with the wontonson the left. It's riskier to present regular Greek forms with unknown tastes, as in the samosas on the right; the appearance fooled my family into thinking they were Cretan pasties, kalitsounia.

Travelling for pleasure was not quite as common for Greeks as it is now, even though Greece has generally been (and looks set to continue to be) a land of emigrants. Popular holiday destinations for Greek people were Dubai and Thailand before the economic crisis; till recently, Greek students formed one of the largest foreign student groups in the UK. But even before Greece joined the EU, Northern Greeks (in particular) regularly travelled in and out of neighbouring countries, both for business and pleasure: they set up firms in many Balkan countries, they get cheaper medical care in FYR Macedonia, they take daytrips to Turkey to acquire cheap goods, and they go on skiing holidays in Bulgaria, now an EU member with euro currency, where a sizeable number of Northern Greeks are also retiring, due to the more affordable lifestyle (Bulgaria's cost of living is lower than Greece's, which stretches the Greek pension well beyond the limits of its Greek value).

Spring rolls are now becoming more popular in global food outlets in Hania, like pizzerias. The spring rolls I ordered at such an outlet were made with Mediterranean tastes. When I made them at home, I used bottled Asian sauces to add a bit of foreignness to my otherwise Med-flavoured filling.

Apart from seeing some of the greatest monuments of the world from close up, travelling outside the limited environments of our island home also means the possibility for my family to try new tastes and for me to indulge in some old favorites, the kind of international cuisine I was used to eating out when I lived in Wellington. Trying new food doesn't just mean eating something you haven't tasted before, and it's not only about seeing the differences in the cuisines of the world. Eating 'other people's food' familiarises you with a new kind of eating style; and as you eat your way around the world, whether it's in an unfamiliar environment or the comfort of your own home, you realise that there is a great deal of similarity involved the food we all eat. For example, which culture doesn't have some kind of small 'hand-held pie', made with some kind of pastry containing some kind of filling? Is there any country in the world that doesn't eat any kind of 'bread', no matter what grain it's made of? Does a society exist that doesn't eat a 'sandwich' in some form, even if it doesn't actually call it a sandwich?

Pita with falafel resembles the Greek souvlaki filled with bifteki instead of meat slivers, but the taste is very different.

Global food outlets in Hania exist in both Greek and multi-national forms: there's Starbucks cafe, Domino's pizza, Goody's burgers, Roxani's pancakes, Grigori's sandwiches, to name but a few, but they all sell roughly the same kind of food: some kind of bread, filled or spread with similar fillings, which always include a milk-based product. There are very few international cuisine outlets in the town, apart from a couple of Chinese restaurants, which don't actually seem to be gaining ground (which may also have to do with the price). This frightens me somewhat: eating foreign cuisine is an educational experience, it helps break the racial divide. It also helps to know the sometimes subtle, sometimes major differences involved in other people's food to alleviate the initial 'shock' factor usually involved when experiencing the unknown. For example, I got a big shock when I tried wasabi paste for the first time, nothing like the exhilaration of a hot curry...

Some international cuisine looks, smells and tastes almost exactly the same as the Greek equivalent, eg lasagne and pastitsio; on the other hand, a Greek lahanosalata (cabbage salad) has little to do with sauerkraut, which I made by wilting the cabbage and adding various spices to give it a sour taste (it was not one of my more popular dishes). My cottage pie was very successful - the mince was flavoured with well-known Greek spices, while the potato layer provided similar carbohydrates as pasta does in a Greek makaronada. Cottage pie could be described as the English version of pastitsio or lasagne. 

At some point in their lives, my children will probably leave their island home and go abroad, whether for study or work. I won't be around to provide Cretan cuisine for them. I doubt that I'll be one of those mothers that will cook meals for them and fly them by courier to their student address abroad (like some people do, packing them together with ION chocolates and cigarettes, as if they don't have access to similar products where they are, and/or they are vital to their survival). We learn about the history and geography of the world, foreign languages, the importance of global technology in our lives, the necessity to acculturate to global norms and trends, but we rarely learn about the food of the world, only about our 'own', as if the food we eat is the only kind that everyone will recognise.

If I could cook whatever I want whenever I want, I would cook stir-fries. They can be as vegan or carnivorous as your preferences deisre, and they take little time to cook (they need more preparation time for chopping ingredients into small pieces). My stir-fry beef and fried rice was a winner. 

What started off as a way to use up leftovers during one of my freer moments over the Christmas holidays has now become an institution in my home. Since the beginning of the year, I've launched International Cuisine Saturdays. Every Saturday, when I have more time available to cook a meal creatively (as opposed to during the week when I cook on automatic pilot), I prepare a meal that veers away from Greek cuisine (what I typically cook at home), either in taste, texture or appearance, in the hope that one day, when my children become ambassadors for their countries in their circle of foreign friends, they'll be knowledgeable global citizens, accustomed to eating other people's food.

To date, I can only make blueberry muffins (and pancakes) when friends from abroad present them to me as a gift; apart from strawberries, berry fruits are not easy to grow in Crete due to the dry climate.

International Cuisine Saturdays doesn't involve buying novel ingredients or new cooking equipment (although I will admit to going through my supply of soya sauce rather quickly these days and have now resorted to buying it in 1-litre bottles). I usually don't know what I'm going to cook until the actual day, when I look into my fridge to see what's available, and make a decision according to my energy levels. Today's 'foreign food', for example, will form part of our dessert, blueberry pancakes, using a present I received in the post yesterday from a Canadian friend yesterday. We generally eat the same food all over the world; it's the preferred processes, combinations and flavours that differ. It's an educational experience on the most part for my family, and it also gives me a chance to cook food that I have always enjoyed (and greatly miss) eating. These are the times I feel gratified that I am able to cook well.

*CSN delivers to the US, Canada, UK and Germany; postage and packaging costs apply outside the US. 

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The best boureki on the web (Το καλύτερο μπουρέκι στο διαδίκτυο)

Greek food blogging is highly competitive, or should I call it the Greek food blogosphere (depending on which one will get me more ratings): a day in the life of The Best Greek Food Blogger...

Kalimera everybody, and what a kali mera it is! What about a morning pick-me-up? How about some Greek coffee and a koulouraki to go with that? And a double Elliniko for all of those who are snowed in at work today and can't get out to enjoy the sunshine? What are you cooking today, everyone? Haven't made up your mind yet? Run out of ideas? That's why you've come here, haven't you, my glikoulia? Best Greek Food Blog saves the day again, once again! Again! Today I'm making the perfect boureki. You don't know what boureki is? No? OK, let me explain it to you. Well, where do I start? Boureki is a kind of cheese pie, but not your ordinary kind of cheese pie, oh no sirree! Boureki is the best cheese pie around, and my version of boureki would have to be the most perfect. Wait till you see the final outcome! (And if you cannot contain yourself any longer, just scroll down to the photos, duckies!)

OK, first things first. Don't confuse boureki with 'boreg', because, well, it just doesn't compare, as I will explain to you. Boureki from Hania is also very different from the boureki made in other parts of Greece, and you know where I'm from, don't you, so you know which variety of boureki is the best boureki in Greece, don't you, lovie-dovies? That's right! And that's why we can't fail in making the perfect boureki today, right? 'Cos I'm the boureki expert, and my boureki always works out perfectly, doesn't it?

A perfect boureki straight out of the oven.

Let me start by saying that Haniotiko Boureki is a self-crusting pie consisting of potatoes, courgettes and mizithra, that delicious soft fresh white curd cheese that you can only get in Hania. In fact, it's PDO, so don't expect to be able to find it outside of the region, and don't even think of using mizithra from another part of Crete, because it's just not the same, and your boureki won't be perfect, will it? So you need to find the right kind of cheese substitute to make a perfect boureki if you don't live in Hania, and if you're not in Hania today, sweeties, I'll teach you to find a good suitable cheese substitute, which is one of the secrets I'm going to pass on to you today. But don't go spreading it round too quickly, will you!

My perfect boureki, just before the final layer of vegetables is placed over the cheese.

If you don't live in Hania, substitute fresh mizithra with some fresh Italian ricotta cheese that has had a bit of feta cheese crumbled and mixed into it to give that unique sour taste that mizithra has. And that's my secret! No genuine mizithra? No problem! It will still be perfect if you follow my advice!

My perfect boureki, looking mouthwatering; beware of phoneys! Not everyone can make a perfect boureki, so they just copy my photo of the perfect boureki onto their web page along with their own recipe, which doesn't bear any resemblance to mine whatsoever...

So do you want to hear my husband's verdict on this batch of my latest boureki? He looked at me, his dazzling eyes radiating onto my face, and he simply said: "That was the best boureki you've ever made, darling!" Doesn't it just make you wanna cry?!

So, my followers, may your hearts be filled with love and piety, and your stomachs with the best Greek food, which just happens to be here on my blog, and that's why you're here, aren't you, sweethearts? Don't you be fooled by the wannabes out there who troll my posts and wonder how they're going to raise their ratings by copying me directly! You know who I'm talking about, don't you, I don't need to mention names, there are so many copycats out there, stealing my food uninvited, the best Greek food on the best Greek food blog on the WWW! I mean, they don't even know the difference between mizithra and ricotta, and they claim to be experts on Greek food! Can you believe it, my poor souls?! It's such a good thing you have me here, to help you discern what is authentic and what isn't. Of course, I am above such practices, I couldn't possibly even put it in my head to copy or mimic other people's efforts, I'm just so perfect on my own, and I know this because you, my precious followers, tell me so all the time, and it's so nice to see some honesty on the web every now and then. I know my blog is the best Greek food blog in existence on the WWW, bar none. Selah. The writing, the content, the recipes, all top notch. But I've been a fool for so long, I trusted the wrong people, and now look how they're trying to bring me down, maligning me with lies and treachery, critiquing my posts and recipes, as if they were in a position to offer better advice!

My uncle is a better cook than I am - here's his perfect version of bourekicovered in pastry.

If you're following me just for the food, hey, there are plenty of Greek food blogs around, just take your pick. Feel free to discontinue following me, but I'm warning you, you won't find any other blogs offering the wealth of information that mine does, and I'm not going to force you to stay here, even if I do have a high opinion of myself, and I know I deserve to think of myself so highly. After all, you all know I'm worth it, don't you? Don't you? Hello, is anybody there? Hello? Den apantaei kaneis*?

Just in case anyone doubts me, just ask google which the best Greek food blog on the web is; it's me, it's me, you know it's me, I'm the best, I am, I really am!

Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the fairest of us all?

Thou art the fairest, Lady Queen!

*** *** ***

Some people are prepared to go to great lengths for ratings, while others simply copy other people's web-published work (in my case, most of my Cretan food photos) in order to 'create' their 'own' work. It would be at least preferable if they had the decency to simply acknowledge that they are copying my work; I really do not like the idea of my food photography showing the results of my cooking (on my crockery, with my cutlery, in my kitchen) side by side with their own recipes to accompany my photos. Did they not make up the recipe thmeselves? Check out these two sites I recently discovered copying my very alluring boureki photo here and here and posting a different recipe to mine - kind of dumb, don't you think?

Blogs that stand the test of time and have a certain quality about them that differentiate them in some unique way will generally get good hits. That won't happen overnight; if it does, maybe it's because of the use (or overuse) of certain search strings that are eventually picked up by the Google tools. I recently mentioned the Greek TV series 'Glikes Alchimies' (Sweet Alchemy) on one of my posts. For the last few days following the post, people have landed on my blog from the search string 'glikes alchimies'. Most people realised I wasn't presenting recipes from the show and they left after one hit. A few others stuck around searching for recipes (none of which existed on my blog in the first place). My hits counter went up for that reason, even though most of the 'readers' probably went away disappointed, never to return. When ratings and hits statistics are conspired, they lose their value.

In any case, you know who's bound to turn up top of the Google pops today with boureki, don't you?

*Is anybody out there?

I agree, too much malarkeying as of late. How about some food for the next post?

©All Rights Reserved/Organically cooked. No part of this blog may be reproduced and/or copied by any means without prior consent from Maria Verivaki.

Apricot clafoutis (Επιδόρπιο βερύκοκο)

I'm the zucchini goddess, or so thinks Alexandra:

"Thank you so much for helping us get rid of this year's excessive (as it always is) zuchinni crop from our garden. The chocolate-zucchini cake is in the oven as we speak, and smells wonderful. We've also been knee-deep in apricots. Jam, yes, and apricot upside-down cake which I think our village neighbours genuinely liked, though I don't think they were so keen on the apricot clafoutis; is it something to do with the passionate authoritative egalitarian interest which Cretans take in good food, like the French do?"

Having made the jam and eaten the fresh fruit from our tree, I am still looking for ways to get rid of the apricots left in the fridge. The reason of course is obvious: if we have our own fresh fruit available, it is highly unsustainable to buy other fresh fruit if we have our own. This philosophy is reasonable: apart from eating seasonally as often as possible, it is also more likely that we are imbibing fewer pesticides and more vitamins, hence healthier food. As I can't wait to taste our first watermelon for the season, I have to get rid of those apricots creatively. I'd rather not try juicing them - now that our orange trees are in full production, we make orange juice every day.

Clafoutis? What on earth is that? And why didn't the Greek peasant neighbours like it? After all, the French peasants love it. Is it genetic? With the help of the internet, I found out all I could about clafouti (as it's also written). I chose Martha Schulman's recipe because it sounded the least complicated and didn't use any overly exotic ingredients.



You need:
10-15 apricots, halved and stoned (the less ripe, the firmer they will stand in the pudding)
2 tablespoons of brandy (cognac)
1 tablespoon of lemon juice
7 tablespoons of sugar (my first reaction is: only?)
3/4 cup milk
1/2 cup yoghurt (I used some lemon flavoured yoghurt 'given away for free' by a milk company with every carton of its expensive, well over-1-euro per litre milk - I have joined in the boycott against expensive milk in my country)
2 eggs (the recipe said three; I reduced the number, given what I know about how Cretans like their desserts, not too eggy: now I know why the neighbours weren't too keen)
1 vial vanilla powder (pods and essence are not widely available in Crete)
pinch of salt
2/3 cup of sifted all-purpose flour
icing sugar for dusting (optional)
Place the apricots in a bowl with the brandy, lemon juice and half the sugar to become syrupy (this needs about half an hour). Oil a 10- or 10-1/2-inch ceramic quiche or tart dish. Drain the liquid from the apricots into a bowl, and place the apricots rounded side up in the dish. Using an electric mixer, beat together the syrup, sugar, milk, yoghurt, eggs, vanilla and salt till the mixture is creamy. Slowly beat in the flour. Mix together well. Pour the batter over the fruit. Bake in a moderate oven for 35 to 45 minutes, until the top is browned and the clafoutis is firm. Press gently on the top in the middle to see if it's firm. I omitted the icing sugar bit.

Clafoutis sounds like my kind of dessert - fruit (usually cherries) in a spongy batter, something like a furity custard. It reminds me of all those fruity puddings that my Kiwi friends' mothers made at their homes. I never got to eat a pudding made by any of them, having to be satisfied with the photos I saw of them in Women's Weekly, and dreaming about what it would be like to eat a dessert that looked like it had been born in a royal kitchen and served to some king or queen, who nodded his or her head to show contentment, while the cook sighed with relief that his head wouldn't be chopped off if since it met with the royals' approval. Last year, I made a spectacular plum crumble but that's the only time I've cooked fruit in this house. Not that it won't get eaten - it does, but not by anyone else, unfortunately.



Possibly, this dessert might not be too popular with Cretan locals if it's served warm (it hit 37 degrees Celsius yesterday); it will look and feel like baby food, which is probably why my friends' neighbours didn't like it - 'krema' they might've said; 'clafouti yia ton fafouti' (clafoutis for the toothless). Fruity cakes have also never been very popular with some members of my own family. My husband's logic in this is that sweet and savoury never mix, and fruit is served after sweet, which comes after savoury, to clear the palate, so to speak. One way I have successfully helped to encourage the eating of fruity-vegetable cakes (apple cake, banana cake, carrot cake, walnut cake, zucchini cake) is to serve these desserts at room temperature with ice-cream. Till he met me, with the exception of walnut cake, he had never had such cakes. Cooked fruit is usually served in Greece as a pie (in phyllo pastry).

Serving ice-cream with cake is not as decadent as it may sound - fruit desserts usually don't contain a lot of sugar (hey presto, another reason why they didn't like it, being used to galaktoboureko and baklava), as the fruit compensates for its lack of sweetness. This is however another way to bastardise a local dish: cream (including ice-cream) is a definite no-no with clafoutis. When Alexandra was in France and asked for cream to go with her clafoutis, the homely waitress rasied an eyebrow and replied: "Of course if Madame wishes for cream she shall have cream, but one would normally not take cream with a clafoutis."

I'm not much of an experienced cook in the sense that I haven't a clue about foreign food - anything that's out of the Cretan environment is what the English say (it's all Greek to me). I'm a good eater, but the chance to cook foreign doesn't crop up often enough in my life at the moment, and it's not just to do with sourcing foreign ingredients. I feel I must clarify my position because I don't think I'd make clafoutis again. The apricots in the custard batter were delicious, but maybe this dessert tastes better when made in the traditional manner using cherries. The recipe stated that it should be served warm, but this is a definite no-no in the Greek climate, as is the idea of cooking fruit. Clafoutis should indeed be served warm (preferably in a cooler climate), as it goes quite thick, like a cold custard, when it cools down. A glass of cold water is a must when eating apricot clafoutis, as it leaves a syrupy residue in the mouth, a little like the traditional Greek sweets my friend's neighbours are used to.

If I had to give this dessert a Greek name, I'd call it the French version of galaktoboureko served with fruit. But next time, I think I'll stick to apricot upside down cake.

This post is dedicated to all former urbanites who suddenly realised their call in life and became Cretan peasants, before it was too late.

And here is Alexandra's recipe for comparison purposes, in imperial measures:

350 – 450 grams fruit, stoned.

3 eggs

85 grams sugar

75 grams all-purpose flour

Half tsp powdered cinnamon

Half pint milk (560 mill) (you can replace 2 tbsp of it with brandy for a treat)

2 tablespoons melted butter

Little icing sugar to finish

Heat oven to 375F, 190C, Gas mark 5. Butter a big shallow dish (I use a 12 inch flan dish which would be about 30cm, scatter the halved stoned fruit on the base and sprinkle with a tablespoon of the sugar. Beat the rest of the sugar with the eggs, stiur in flour and cinnamon mixed, continue whisking till smooth. Gradually beat in the milk and finally the cool melted butter. Pour batter over the fruit and bake for about 45 mins until puffed up and lightly browned. Best served warm, dusted with icing sugar (and no cream!)

©All Rights Reserved/Organically cooked. No part of this blog may be reproduced and/or copied by any means without prior consent from Maria Verivaki.

Food for thought (Φαγητό για τον εγκέφαλο)

They just arrived in the mail:

When I finish reading them, I'll tell you how the Cretan cuisine relates to them.
After all, we are what we eat.

Wild asparagus from Crete - avronies (Αυρωνιές - άγρια σφαράγγια)

I know I'm going to get into trouble by telling you that in Crete, we eat Tamus communis. You'll be up in arms, claiming that all sources which mention it state that it is poisonous. That's what they said about deadly nightshade, and yet, in Crete (and Turkey, where it's also known by the same name as in Greece, stifno or stifnos), we eat it on a regular basis with our summer horta (mixed in with amaranth, which we call vlita).

It's wild asparagus time in Crete (the locals call them 'avronies'), and some of my friends who live in small rural villages eat them as often as they can get their hands on them. They're both still alive. Most people would have you believe that asparagus is not eaten in Greece. Wrong; it's been here forever, but not in the form that it has become popularly westernised. In any case, the Greek word for asparagus is σφαράγγι, 'sfaragee'. The western version - big fat spears, shipped to Greece all the way from Peru - are available in large supermarkets near tourist centres - guess who they're for - at 7-8 euro a kilo; so many carbon footprints to eat what can be found in a local field...

A few days ago, we visited the village on a snail-hunting mission (the culinary results of this forage will appear in a post in the summer). We also found some wild asparagus, albeit in small quantities. It had already been picked by other foragers before we got to our own fields. And no wonder; avronies sell for about 4 euro a bundle. It is never cultivated, therefore it must be tracked down by dedicated foragers. It needs to be blanched before being used, in order to remove any bitterness. Because the stalks of the wild asparagus are very long, they are cut into shorter pieces to accomodate the pot or pan. Only the tenderest parts of the long shoots are eaten (much like Western asparagus). It is then used in a similar way to what I have described for scrambled eggs with wild greens, but wild asparagus requires a longer cooking time, depending on how tender the stalks are. And since I didn't find many spears on my last hunting expedition, I can only make an omelette for one with them.

You need:
4 wild asparagus spears - cut them down as far as possible before they get too woody
1 onion, chopped finely
1 egg
2 tablespoons of olive oil
salt and pepper
Boil the asparagus spears for about five minutes. Smell them; they exude a fresh spring aroma which has a carthartic effect on your nose. Drain them and cut into smaller pieces. Make sure you don't keep any stalks that are too tough to eat. Put them aside.

Heat the oil in a small frying pan, saute the onion and add the asparagus. Toss everything to mix it in well. Break an egg into the pan, and stir it around to scramble it. If you prefer, you can turn it into an omelette. Let it cook on moderate heat, until the egg is cooked to your liking. The smell by now will be intoxicating.


I know we have to check our sources, so here is what NIKOS PSILLAKIS (co-author of the book "Traditional Cretan Cooking") has to say about this issue:
Γεια σας!
Θα θέλαμε να σας πούμε ότι τα κείμενα για τα βότανα στο βιβλίο μας τα έχει γράψει ειδικός βοτανολόγος και είναι απολύτως έγκυρα. Όντας, οι αβρωνιές μοιάζουν λίγο με άγριο σπαράγγι και σε μεγάλες ποσότητες θεωρούνται τοξικές. Όμως στην Κρήτη τις τρώμε. Δεν γνωρίζομε για άλλα μέρη της Ελλάδας.
Πολλούς χαιρετισμούς
Νίκος Ψιλάκης

... which all translates as:
"Hello! We would like to say that the writings on the herbs in the book have been written by our expert botanist and are completely valid. For purists, avronies seem a little like wild asparagus and in large quantities are considered toxic. But in Crete we eat them. We do not know about other places in Greece. Many greetings, Nikos Psilakis"

Another source backs him up:
Tamus cretica
The Greeks use the young suckers like Asparagus, which they much resemble.
T. cretica is a native of Greece and the Greek Archipelago.

Here's another source for wild asparagus, from Italy; the beautiful photo shows a plant resembling the wild asparagus I collected, the same one sold in the market. The article discusses how foragers hunt down the wild asparagus, so that there's very little left for the untrained eye to discern.

It's good to know that people all over the world are eating the same kinds of food, albeit in different colours, shapes and sizes. It reminds me of how we are all human beings, coming in different colours, shapes and sizes ourselves. We should all be aware of the local varieties of the commonly westernised image of particular edibles, in order to make biodiversity sustainable.

And here's a rare sight in a Greek village, which we chanced on the day we went on our forage. I'm sure you'll enjoy it: this peacock was strutting around the area of our orange grove ,where we found the asparagus!

This post is dedicated to Fiona, because I know how much she likes people to get names and facts right.

©All Rights Reserved/Organically cooked. No part of this blog may be reproduced and/or copied by any means without prior consent from Maria Verivaki.

MORE EGG RECIPES:
Avgolemono
Scrambled eggs with wild mustard greens
Frittata
Potato salad

MORE WILD GREENS RECIPES:
Kalitsounia fried
Kalitsounia in the oven
Marathopites
Spiral pie
Hortopita (spanakopita)
Horta in winter
Horta in summer
Sorrel
Swiss chard (silverbeet)
Eggs with mustard greens
Mountain tea
Octopus stew

In search of food (Φαγητό στο ψάξιμο)

We are all guilty of it - invading other people's privacy. I love to pry into other people's food forages. I do it out of curiosity. By looking into someone's refrigerator or supermarket trolley, I can find out (or imagine) what kind of food they're eating on a daily basis and how healthy their food purchases are. I know I'm just being nosy, but it can also be quite amusing. We all know the phrase "you are what you eat." And being very mindful of what my children eat, and how it might affect their health, it's only natural that I'm curious to find out other people's attitudes to food and compare my ideas with theirs.

We invade other people's privacy every time we look into someone's shopping trolley at the supermarket, and start imagining what they'll be eating for dinner. The Northern Europeans (primarily Brits and Germans) who shop at the local supermarkets here in Hania seem to fill theirs up with alcohol, with just a few bits and pieces of edibles sticking out amongst the cans and bottles: two tomatoes in a plastic bag, some packaged sliced ham, long-life sliced bread, canned peaches in syrup (even though the fresh produce section is brimming with the fresh stuff). The tourist residents (those Europeans who have bought a home in a remote area of Hania, and spend part of the year here, or come here to retire) are even more hilarious: in amongst the aforementioned, there are always large amounts of canned petfood and cat litter.

We also invade others' privacy every time we place a hit counter on our site. The minute we open our web page (the euphemism for 'blog'), we look up the statistics to find the answers to all the WH question words and phrases you can think of concerning the site:

• who's been accessing it
• when they entered
• where they came from
• what search engine they used
  
• what words they used to search the web
• what sites they found
  
• why they entered our site
  
• how long they stayed for
• how many times they visited
• which post was the most popular
• and so on.
  

Most searches usually contain one or more key words: fava, freeze aubergines, Greek lasagne; the searcher usually finds links that are appropriate to what s/he is looking for. Some searches are more complex, more like a sentence: how to make plain cake, how many calories in potato fritters, rice cooked in leaves are some word strings that have led people to my site. Some of the people who visit my site return to it: maybe they like the food I cook, or the stories I tell. My husband thinks that the only reason why they return is because they like the photos, which just goes to show what he thinks of my cooking. But most visitors will be one-timers looking for specific information, which they may or may not get from my site, despite Google leading them to it. Here are some howlers (in order of howling sound, 1 being the loudest) that I've collected over the last few days from my statistics site counter. The search-string has been copied word-for-word.

1. what goes with Greek salad: Lovers of the traditional Greek village salad will know just how ridiculous this sounds, and I'm not prepared to accept any criticism for criticising my readers. Our famous tomato salad could go with any main course - unless you're having horta...
2. Greek style lentils without tomato: If anyone has a Greek mama that made fakes without tomato, do let me know.
3. how to cook moussaka without aubergines: Haven't we already said that moussaka is the internationally famous Greek eggplant-potato-mince dish, and if it doesn't contain one of those main ingredients, then it can't be called plain old moussaka, but it must be called eggplant-less moussaka?
4. frozen aubergine slices buy: Surely it's easier and cheaper to do this yourself than to actively seek out such a product; I suspect it must have been someone who doesn't want to stain their hands from the freshly cut flesh.
5. cauliflower shelf life: Was that cauliflower organic? Soil-grown? Hothouse? In this day and age, we need to be more aware of what we're putting into our bodies.
6. forgot my son's birthday: I used that in a storyline (the word 'nearly' appeared before 'forgot'); I hope they enjoyed my tale - but could you guess the post they landed on?
   
7. what does the blue dragon eat: If blue dragons existed, I suppose they would have to feed off something... but you can always find out who ate blue dragon by clicking on the link.
8. how is pizza made in Greece: The same way it's made all over the world, I suppose, unless you call ladenia pizza, which strictly speaking, it isn't. Even my koumbara knew that when I served up ladenia to her family: "where's the ham and cheese?" they all asked.
   
9. blog pilafi: In between my link and a fellow blogger's was this one (probably the one that was being hunted down): 'Pilafi kai parthenes (virgins)'.
10. verivaki recipe: Could the New Zealander that used this search string please come forward?...

And if there's anyone who would like to do a blog event on search string howlers, shopping trolleys or fridge contents, I'd love to hear about the results!

©All Rights Reserved/Organically cooked. No part of this blog may be reproduced and/or copied by any means without prior consent from Maria Verivaki.

See also:
Taste sensationlism
Western diets
To eat or not to eat?
Googling food
Eating locally
A day in the field

Cauliflower cheese (Κουνουπίδι με τυρί)

This is the first year that we planted cauliflower in our garden. To our delight, four of the five plants turned into big white flowers, and are now waiting for us to use our culinary skills on them. We often eat cauliflower boiled, dressed with lemon, salt and olive oil, just like our horta. I remember coming across a dish called cauliflower cheese numerous times in Women's Weekly magazines and basic cookbooks when I was in New Zealand. I had never eaten it when I was living there, so I thought I'd give it a go now that the cauliflowers are abundant in our garden, and if the rest fo the family liked it, we could make it again (or never waste our time on it ever again if they didn't).

Time is always a pressure , and today there was simply not enough of it to make a very creative meal. Whichever recipe I used, I decided it would have to be something that sounded simple to make. As usual, I consulted Google for a quick look at various recipes; when you run out of ideas, another person's food blog is always a good solution. When I'm looking for a recipe, I usually go no further than the first ten links. This may sound a bit prejudiced; after all, I have realised that some people have found links to my own website by looking much, much further than the first page with the top 10 links. Time is of the essence here once again. I'd need a research assistant to surf the 250,000 sites mentioned in the google-search of "cauliflower cheese". The first ten sites will do. In fact, as the list proves below, once past the first six sites, the recipes become variations of the traditional one.

No. 1: thefoody.com - no photo. Skip it.
No. 2: tesco.com - very simple, no strange ingredients. Bookmark it.
No 3: waitrose.com - there is an over-use of the word "organic" in the recipe; sounds suspicious. Skip it.
No. 4: recipezaar.com - no photo. Skip it.
No. 5: weightwatchers.co.uk - nobody in my family is on a diet; the photo looked wholly unappetising. It reminded me of a boiled cauliflower, not something cooked in the oven. Skip it.
No. 6: cooks.com - this site provides a list of recipes to choose from; I haven't got time to check their list. I just want one recipe. Skip it.
No. 7: bbc.co.uk - the recipe listed mentions salmon. No need to read further. Skip it.
No. 8: aww.ninemsn.com - looks similar to No. 2. Bookmark it.
No. 9: allrecipes.com - uses the words "pie" and "crust". Not the traditional recipe. Skip it.
No. 10: cook.dannemann.org.uk - looks superb, but has the same problem as Nos. 7 and 9. It goes way past the traditional recipe; since when were pasta and ham included in cauliflower cheese? Skip it.

The more sites you eliminate in the first round, the less you will have to compare. The two sites that I am left with to compare list similar ingredients. aww includes mustard and nutmeg, even though tesco has a more appealing photo. I go for aww. Both recipes sounded too milky for my liking. I decided to jazz them up a little. Now that I have made and eaten this dish, I realise I should have been more creative in choosing alternative ingredients to suit local tastes. It is always a temptation to follow the instructions to the letter the first time you try making something, even if the recipe does sound rather dull. Look at the photos and compare them with a meal like soutzoukakia or gigandes. You can't expect much from a cauliflower cheese; after all, it is a British dish, and we all know what they used to eat before the Indians and the Chinese emitted aromas that caused the Brits' nostrils to seep and their eyes to water. Here is my version of the traditional English favorite of cauliflower cheese.











You need:

1 medium head of cauliflower
50g butter (I should have used olive oil, which is the Mediterranean (and healthier) alternative to butter, but I don't know if it works well for bechamel sauce, which is obviously what I'm going to make)
1 onion, chopped small (I need to hide the milky taste of this dish. I know my husband won't like it if he doesn't smell tomato, onion or garlic in a cooked dish) 2 cloves of garlic, minced (I already added onion, so I may as well add the garlic)
50g plain flour
2 ¾ cups milk
1 tablespoon dijon mustard (whatever mustard you have in the house will probably do)
1 cup of grated tasty cheese (a down-under's way of describing nameless, mass-produced cheese made - most likely - by the national milk company; tasty cheese had a slightly saltier, spicier taste than mild cheese. Europeans - including Greeks - never buy cheese labelled in this way. The equivalent of an Australian-New Zealand tasty cheese is something like Regato)
1 cup parmesan, grated (I used Regato in both instances; now that I think about it, I should have used the local cheese - mizithra - for a creamier, more local taste)
½ teaspoon salt
white pepper (a cook's ploy: cauliflower is white, so if black pepper is used, it may give a 'dirty' look to the cauliflower. Use black pepper if you don't have any white pepper)
freshly grated nutmeg
Cut cauliflower into small florets. Bring a large saucepan of salted water to the boil. Add cauliflower, cook 4 minutes or until just tender; drain. Cauliflower doesn't cook till tender in four minutes. It all depends on the size of the florets. Cook it till it is soft, otherwise you may as well leave it raw.
Pre-heat oven at 200°C or 180°C fan-forced. Butter (better still, oil) a pyrex dish (not a metal tin; the cheesy sauce will stick to it, and it will be difficult to scrape off) large enough to fit the florets in tightly. Melt butter in a medium saucepan, and stir in the onion and garlic. Don't wait for them to brown, just draw out their aromas. Then stir in the flour and cook over gentle heat, stirring continuously with a wooden spoon. Gradually add milk, bring to the boil. Add the mustard and 3/4 of the cheeses. Stir until melted, season with salt, pepper and a little nutmeg. To assemble, place cauliflower in the dish gratin dish pour sauce to cover, sprinkle with parmesan and dot lightly with butter. Bake in a preheated oven for 15 minutes (that's why you have to make sure that the cauliflower is soft-boiled) or until a light crust forms.

©All Rights Reserved/Organically cooked. No part of this blog may be reproduced and/or copied by any means without prior consent from Maria Verivaki."