I’m sitting in an apartment just off Syntagma Square in Athens. Motorcycles roar by and a woman drags a big garbage bag to the corner. A well-dressed Greek man in a pinstripe shirt gestures vehemently as he talks into his phone. Tourists, in their straw hats and shorts, jump off and onto the sidewalk, heading for Plaka, the busy shop and restaurant area a short walk away. We’ll be dining there tonight.
There’s excitement in the air—national elections will take place on Sunday, and the square is blocked off while workmen erect a temporary stage. Each political party has its booth. We expect loudspeakers later, and we probably won’t get a lot of sleep. But that’s okay. Today is the last day of a two-week stay in Greece. Soon my companions will return from their walk with a bottle of wine, and we’ll drink a toast to this beautiful country.
In the meantime, I’m remembering some of the fabulous meals we’ve enjoyed in Athens, in the port town of Volos, in the mountain village of Zagora on Mount Pelion; and on Alonissos, the island where I lived in my mid-twenties.
Grilled mushrooms are a feature on Athens menus now, a new addition since my last visit. Smoky, juicy, meaty oyster and crimini mushrooms, sometimes with a splash of sesame oil and balsamic vinegar; and once, in Zagora, wild porcini slow-cooked in the oven with fresh tomatoes, garlic and peppers. In Volos, a dish of cuttlefish and wild greens, the cuttlefish melt in your mouth, the greens tangy with fresh lemon. In Alonissos, locally-caught calamari, crispy tender, salty fries cooked in olive oil and a tomato cucumber salad. In Alonissos, too, we were lucky enough to find fresh sea bream, a firm, white-fleshed fish I loved in the old days, grilled until the skin was charred and the meat just done. We ate with our fingers.
The weather has been unseasonably cool, but we managed four beautiful swims in Alonissos, and we walked everywhere, rediscovering old paths and finding new ones. I saw friends I’ve known for 40 years and haven’t seen for seven, learned about the friends, inevitably, who have died, and made new friends I will see next time. I used to lament the changes on this beloved island—the new developments, the number of cars, the abandonment of the old ways, but somehow this time I was able to let it go and appreciate that change is inevitable.
One thing that has not changed, in all the places we’ve visited, is the ubiquitous presence of the horiatiki, the salad we know and love in Canada as “Greek Salad.” Its Greek name derives from hora, the word for village, and it means, roughly, “of the village” or “in the village style,” so called because every villager in Greece grew tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers and onions, and there was always a herd of goats or sheep nearby, and everyone had a few olive trees.
One day in Alonissos, after a gorgeous swim in water with a temperature similar to that of Chadburn Lake in July, and a walk up the old donkey path from the harbour, we made ourselves a simple lunch of horiatiki, tzatziki, bread and white wine. It doesn’t get any better.
I’m sad to leave Greece, but I’m looking forward to coming home, to seeing my doggie and my friends and to trying out some new dishes. Perhaps wild agaricus mushrooms slow-cooked in the oven with tomatoes, peppers and garlic … we will see.
I will definitely be making horiatiki—an excellent horiatiki is highly achievable during the Yukon summer. There are four essentials: ripe tomatoes, good olive oil, meaty olives and Greek feta. You don’t need lettuce, and you don’t need vinegar—the tomatoes provide all the acid necessary.
Horiatiki (a.k.a. The Greek Salad)
Ingredients
- 2 large, ripe tomatoes
- 1/3 large English cucumber (or 2 small cucumbers)
- ½ medium purple onion
- ½ red or green pepper
- 16 to 20 Kalamata or cracked green olives (or any good, meaty olives not canned or jarred)
- 1 6 oz slice feta cheese
- 2 tsp dried oregano or 1 Tbsp fresh, finely chopped
- 2 or 3 Tbsp good olive oil
- Salt, to taste
Instructions
- Roughly chop the tomatoes into 1-inch pieces. Slice the cucumber (washed, but not peeled) in half lengthwise and chop into ¼-inch slices. Thinly slice the onion. Cut pepper in two pieces crosswise and thinly slice. Transfer each vegetable into a medium-sized bowl as it’s ready.
- Scatter olives over top. Lay the slice of feta on the vegetables and sprinkle oregano over top. Douse the whole thing with olive oil and put salt on the table for people to serve themselves. Serve with thick slices of hearty bread.
