“Do you like my red eggs? I made them as we do in the Ukraine,” said last year Tatiana, my late mother’s companion. Her eggs were not really red, though, but an attractive dark reddish brown decorated with lighter colored leaves of various shapes. “I cooked them in onion skins,” Tatiana explained.

_{Onion-skin dyed eggs, and some blue that I colored with red cabbage.}

Last year, for the first time since I remember, my mother was in no condition even to order her companions to dye the Easter eggs bright red as she liked them, and is the custom in Greece. She used to have a special old aluminum pot that was permanently stained from this horrible, and surely toxic red dye. I do try to keep the traditions, but I refused to use such coloring in my kitchen, so my mother always dyed a few eggs and brought them with her when she came to Kea for Easter. By a strange coincidence, it was my mother’s last companion who made me start coloring Easter eggs, teaching me this wonderful version of what I knew ashuevos haminados. (more…)

Read More

Greek women believe that bread rises by divine intervention. If you tell them that a batter of flour and water will ferment from the various airborne microorganisms if left for a few days, they refuse to believe it. They are certain that only the direct power of God can turn a mere flour batter into a leavening medium. This is the reason why prozymi (pronounced pro-ZEE-me) –the natural sourdough starter used in traditional baking– is always made either on September 14 —the day the Greek Orthodox Church celebrates the discovery of the cross on which Jesus was crucified— or near the end of Holy Week, preceding Easter.

On both occasions, some leaves or flowers are added to the flour and water mixture: If the prozymi is started around Easter, the mixture contains a handful of the flowers that have been used to decorate the Epitaphios—a representation of Jesus’ coffin which is paraded through the streets decorated with flowers, in the solemnfuneral-like procession on Good Friday evening. If the dough is mixed on the Day of the Cross, a sprig of basil is included in the prozymi batter. But not just any sprig, but one taken from the bunch the priest has used to sprinkle the congregation with holy water. According to Greek religious myths, fragrant basil was the plant growing around the Holy Cross, a sign that allowed Saints Constantine and Helen to distinguish Jesus’ cross from among the many others in the area. To commemorate the event, on the eve of the holiday women bring to the church pots of aromatic small-leafed basil plants that they have grown with much care all through the summer.

Much secrecy surrounds the making of prozymi. I have asked many women on various islands to describe the process and received only vague answers: “You mix a few handfuls of flour with some lukewarm water, add the blessed basil or the Epitaphios flowers and, because the mixture is blessed, after a while” —they never say how long exactly — “the mixture starts to develop little bubbles. Then you gradually add flour for the next couple of days, and your prozymi is ready.” (more…)

Read More

YES, we celebrated and dared to have a good time, despite the mounting fiscal problems of our country and the doom scenarios hovering over Greece’s economy. In case you haven’t heard, our small country single-handedly managed to de-stabilize the whole European Union! But life goes on, and I am sure the visitors who will come to Greece this year will have THE best time ever, and probably much more value for the money spent…

  Slide Show: Winter Celebrations!

But let’s start from the beginning:
When Lorenza – our cousin’s wife— told us the other day that her parents were celebrating their 60th wedding anniversary, I actually blacked-out for a split second! And then I felt embarrassed… It was a few days after Aglaia and I had celebrated our 13 years of marriage… We were really proud we’d reached the low double-digits, but, oh boy, it felt so small and daunting compared to 60! Soon I came around, though: hey, it’s been 13 years — 24-hours a day, 7-days a week in the same house on our small island… And we’re still here, and we’re just fine! The laws of lifespan and physics might deny us 60 years of bliss, but, yes, right now we feel like we would reach that bench mark, if we could… So, we were happy to toast a glass of prosecco to our small but significant number with a few friends and family in our new kitchen! (more…)

Read More

Describing Kea’s winter produce in my previous post, I left out the most important of all delicacies: horta, wild leafy greens.

Greeks started to forage for horta because they had little else to eat. We continue to gather and eat them today because we love them! MORE at The Atlantic. (more…)

Read More

Green is the color of our winter; not gray-brown, nor white, as in most parts of Europe and the US. Every few years we may see snow for a day or two, but most of the time our winters are mild, with many bright and crisp sunny days. The rocky island hills fill with all kinds of plants after the late fall and early winter rains. The huge, dehydrated thorny bushes, seemingly carved into the windy cliffs over the sea, bud with tiny, jagged-edged green leaves. The oaks, scattered around the island —mainly on the eastern slopes— as well as the countless almond trees lose their leaves, but the lush green fields around them make up for the missing foliage.

Sheep and goats roam around the hills happily munching the tender sprouts, practically unattended in most parts of the island. Nikos Mavromatis, our butcher, watches his sheep with binoculars on the slope across from his shop in Hora when he expects them to give birth. Occasionally goats climb up the stone fences and feast on roses and other ornamental shrubs that border the gardens and pools of the now empty vacation villas. There is a consensus here that people who spent a fortune buying land to build summer houses are supposed to erect tall barriers because “the goats cannot know where properties end or begin,” as locals explain to the outraged Athenians, who find their gardens ravaged when they return for a spring weekend. (more…)

Read More