COMFORT FOOD FOR COLD DAYS IN GREECE

Ice and snow can be so pretty, but not everyone enjoys winter weather, as you can see.

Some people certainly do, however..

Daily Mail photo of Primrose Hill London

Grandma's photo of family on Pantocrator Corfu

But after a snowball fight, or a mass toboggan slide, what does everyone go home for?

Why, a spot of comfort food of course.

Comfort food can be savoury or sweet, is preferably hot, has steam rising from it, looks and smells divine. It can be good for you but, more importantly, it should cheer you up.

Depending upon your homeland, actual or spiritual, you probably think about food you grew up with, lovingly made for you by your mother.

No, not me but you get the picture

According to one website, one of the favourite comfort foods in Finland is sautéed reindeer. This conjures up a picture of a very muscular woman frying a whole reindeer carcass in a very, very large skillet, but I feel something must have been lost in translation. I remember with fondness my own Mum's shepherd's pie and steak and kidney pie.

For every woman married to a Greek, comfort food means fasolada and, no, you can never hope to equal his mother’s.

But you can have a good try, and with some subtle additions and variations, you may even one day hear the grudging words:

‘As good as my mother’s.’

‘Better than my mother’s’ is an unlikely accolade, but it is possible to achieve that glory, so persevere.

A good fasolada is not only comforting, it is nourishing, satisfying, and you can make enough of it to last for two or even three days without the family (i.e. your man) demanding something fresh every day. In fact, fasolada matures so that by the third day it is at its best – gutsy and chunky.

 Where did he come from? Honestly, Grandma, any excuse.. I said chunky not hunky!

I was taught by my own mother that it was essential to keep a well-stocked cupboard of basic foodstuffs, a habit that I have always maintained. I was quite shocked to find, on coming to live with my Greek mother-in-law, a paragon of housewifely virtues, that she shopped every day for the makings of that day’s main meal. Off she would trot, bright and early, to the grocer and the baker. Meat was a once-a-week affair anyway. Fish and vegetables and fruit could be bought from wizened and weather-beaten little men leading ramshackle carts drawn by wizened little donkeys.

Yes, that was me - and my little boy

That was 1970, in a part of Piraeus inhabited by people who had had to struggle to make ends meet ever since their families arrived in Greece as refugees from Asia Minor. I started married life living with my mother-in-law, without a fridge or a washing machine or a TV. We had ice-boxes, and spent a whole day boiling up water and washing clothes using almost Biblical methods, and the nearest TV was in the cafeneion down the road. But that is a story for another time.

Picture posed by models, as they say in the posh periodicals.

I digress – it is all too easy. When you get to my age you either live in a dream or you relive your life constantly.

What I am saying is that, in spite of life becoming so much easier in some ways, it still doesn’t hurt to keep a well-stocked cupboard, and that stock, when you intend to cook Greek dishes, should include dry goods like beans, lentils, pasta, flour and rice, tomato paste and of course olive oil, with a regularly replenished supply of vegetables in the fridge.

Thus, on a miserable, cold, wet day like today, you wouldn’t have to go out shopping for the makings of a meal.

As with so many Greek recipes, there is a certain mystique about fasolada.

You need the right kind of beans, not too small and not big – most recipes state haricot beans, but cannellini beans are the right ones (navy beans in the US), or the ones called handres in Greek. You need water that will actually soften the beans –tap water is generally considered ineffectual, bottled water is preferable, but real aficionados keep a supply of water collected by their own fair hands from some spring or other source with a good reputation.

You must, of course, use good oil, preferably from your own trees or failing that, from a neighbour, relative or good friend’s trees. Be generous with it, it makes all the difference.

Dried beans, plenty of sliced or chopped onion, celery, parsley, sliced carrots, oil and tomato paste, salt and pepper – basically that’s it.

Some people like their vegetables finely diced and grated, others prefer them more coarsely sliced and chopped. The results will be different according to how you treat the vegetables.

There are plenty of recipes on line and in the many Greek recipe books, and if you are wise, you have written down mother-in-law’s version somewhere.

Variations: Add some dried chili flakes and seeds (called ‘boukovo’ in Greece), and/or a few drops Tabasco (can be added after serving). My daughter adds small pieces of fresh sweet red pepper.

I used to add some bacon, or sliced sausage, or even cubes of left over pork chops – this soup cries out to be complemented by the flavour of pork.

Tips: You must throw away the first lot of water, used for the initial stage of boiling the beans on their own. Use fresh water to continue the recipe.

Do not add salt until the end – it can harden the beans.

Serve with: olives, slices of feta drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with rigani (oregano), red pepper or black pepper, crusty bread and a glass or two of sturdy red wine. My husband always accompanied his fasolada with slices of red onion and renga (smoked herring).

Kali orexi!



FIRST OF FEBRUARY AND HERE COMES THE SNOW

It’s snowing in the centre of Athens, it’s snowing in Corfu, temperatures are in the minus range, and like excited children, many of us here in Corfu are planning a trip this afternoon to show our kids the white stuff as it really is! In Britain, at the first flurry, the authorities warn people to stay home, stay warm and get their heads down. In Greece, we leap into our cars and head for the nearest high ground to play snowballs!

Mind you, today it is snowing down at sea level, let alone on the hills.

photo by star tv greece



 Village of Petalia Corfu

I have never lost my childhood passion for snow. As a very little girl I lived in a part of Surrey known as Little Switzerland, for its pine-clad hills and valleys filled with beech trees. The bright colours of heather and gorse, ferns and bracken, would all give way, in winter, to paler monotones as snow blanketed those hills and enveloped those valleys.

I have photos of myself, smiling with happiness, feet firmly planted in the snow and wearing a marvellously practical, hooded, all-in-one garment called a ‘siren-suit’. Nothing to do with the sirens that used to lure travellers such as Odysseus with their fatal attractions – this outfit was popularized by Winston Churchill, who designed it himself and had it made up by gentleman’s outfitters Austin Reed. With plenty of pockets and made up in a warm fabric, it was ideal for the Great Man’s trips around war-ravaged Britain and was quickly adopted for wear by both sexes and all ages.

His suit looked like this,

And mine looked just like this

It must have snowed more regularly back then, in England. I remember looking out of the windows of our suburban Essex home on Christmas Eve, to see the Salvation Army band performing carols under the light of a street lamp, with snow falling on them and their instruments.

My love of snow took me to live for a winter at an Austrian ski-school – that and my love of a certain ski-instructor…. I stayed in a marvellous wooden chalet where the beds were tucked inside cupboards and made up with billowing feather duvets. Being snowed up in such a setting was just an excuse for the continuous consumption of schnapps and comfort food as only the Austrians know how.

In London, I was marooned by excessive amounts of snow one January, unable to return to my home in Corfu. Along with two other Greek colleagues, also marooned, and the company’s accountant who could not even get back to her home in Kent, we were invited by the owner of the company we worked for to stay in his London flat. That was no hardship – good address, all mod cons, the

Kings Road

within walking distance - as long as you had snowshoes on - the men wasted no time in appointing me resident cook and demanded Greek food and coffee non-stop, while they spent the wintry weekend glued to sport on TV. It felt just like being a Greek wife again.

Those who do not know Greece as it can be in winter can probably not imagine it under snow.

But here we are today, the first of Feb, phoning and Facebooking each other with hews of the snow.

Here in my cozy computer corner, it is beginning to feel really chilly and I am wearing the wonderful mittens my daughter-in-law made for me.

As soon as my grandson gets out of school, we shall go, en famille, to play with magic.

Some people never grow up.

THE ISLAND IN WINTER

I love Corfu in winter.

I am naturally a winter person – I love warm gloves, hot water bottles, blazing fires and gut-warming drink. I love soups and quilts and thought the discovery of fleece was a boon to mankind second only to penicillin. When the temperatures climb into the forties Celsius, as they often do here in Corfu in summer, I yearn for winter.

When you live in Corfu, your friends back in the UK, or wherever they may be, who have probably only ever visited you in summer, always assume that you spend the winters with beach barbecues, wearing a slightly heavier version of summer clothing perhaps, with the addition of a cardigan and a lower grade of sun protection. 

Not so my dears!

It is rarely necessary to dress as my sister (above) does in Canada, but it can happen.

Last Sunday, for example, was a mostly sunny day, but blustery and bitterly cold, with temperatures in the single digits. We went out for a much-needed road-trip up the coast to Avlaki, to blow away the après-Christmas blues and give the dog a run. (I use the word ‘run’ loosely – she valiantly trudged along the stony beach, winter-length fur blowing into her eyes, refusing to give up.)

We wore coats, hats and gloves, with scarves in reserve. Rather than the beach barbecue of our friends’ imagination, we consumed cheese sandwiches on the hoof, coffee from a Thermos, and a Mars Bar each.

A white and grey heron glided gracefully down to inspect the likelihood of food scraps, then turned, banked and made a faultless landing on the small lake behind the beach.

There is a footpath that leads from Avlaki across the thickly wooded headland, down to a windblown lagoon and another, isolated, beach. On the way we found a most unusual fungus that we assume to be a Toadstool, though we christened it, for obvious reasons, the Muffin Mushroom.

The view of Albania had its usual dream-like quality, intensified this day by the brush-strokes of pure white along the higher mountains.

Snow is visible on the mainland for most of the winter, a dramatic backdrop to daily life and one that summer visitors cannot envisage.

Corfiot ski enthusiasts, their balance and skills honed by summer water skiing, can soon be enjoying the snow slopes after a short ferry crossing and a swift car ride along the superb and scenic Egnatia Highway..

We do have snow in Corfu too, high up on the north-facing side of Mount Pantocrator. Occasionally, it makes its appearance at a lower level and can be seen from the town of Corfu.

It has even snowed at Kontokali, at sea-level

Villages like Petalia and Strinilas, high on the mountain, can look quite alpine.

This was the view of Pantocrator and Spartillas, seen from Dassia in January 2005

This is Petalia, at the same time.

In these high villages,firewood is piled neatly under the overhanging balconies; a young shepherd, clad in the shaggy cloak that looks as if it might have been worn by his great-grandfather, can be seen sometimes clattering off the stony mountain paths. He is herding the beautiful russet-coloured cows and the sly-eyed goats that have been grazing up where new grass has made its appearance on the rock-strewn plateau. This is another world from the one we inhabit in summer. A world where men hunt and carry shotguns and still smoke in the cafeneion and always knew no good would come of joining the EU,

We have torrential rain at times, high winds that sometimes force the domestic flights from Athens to turn and go back to Athens, violent storms that take down trees, cause power cuts, deprive us of TV for days on end and generally frighten the horses as they say. Truly frightening are the unpredictable mini-tornadoes that can wreck a small harbour in moments.

Off Benitses, 2000

Kanoni, Mouse Island, as tourists never see it

But we do also have the most beautiful, balmy days of sunshine and blue skies. According to legend, there are 5 - 6 days of serene, sunny weather in mid-winter when the god of the winds, Aeolus, brings calm weather and sun so that the kingfisher may lay its eggs and hatch them. His daughter, Alkyone, had married a mortal, and when he died in a shipwreck, Aeolus transformed the couple into a pair of kingfishers. Thus Alkyone gave her name to the bird and to the Halcyon Days of winter. Luckily, our sunny days usually number many more than 5 or 6.

How beautiful Corfu can be in winter, when so many of us may not have money to spare, but have the time to enjoy the bounty of Nature. Gathering edible plants was always a favourite winter occupation with Greeks. Most men and boys enjoy a spot of fishing, from the beach, a boat or a jetty.

Neighbours are generous with their oranges and lemons, their walnuts and almonds and their eggs; even the foreign residents now make their own olive
oil, wine and tomato paste. Our food comes to us at first-hand, second at the most, fresher, healthier and more fragrant than you can imagine.

I love Corfu in winter - even though the weather forecast is for minus temperatures next weekend....

Sunday Night 1/15/2012

Mostly clear and colder with a shower around before temperatures fall below freezing

Low Temperature: -4°C

RealFeel: -11°C

Monday Night 1/16/2012

Clear and cold

Low Temperature: -3°C

RealFeel: -9°C



Thanks to our friend Frosso Moraiti for allowing me to use her lovely photos