Cretan Diary - Chapter 20 | |||||||||||||
Wednesday (Mike) and The Cooking (Jenny)October 7, 2009 Before Jenny tells you about her cooking, I'll just tell you, briefly, what we did today. The morning began quite overcast with wind forecast. (It never happened.) Walked up the hill - it was a little cooler than normal ... blah de blah... barking dogs - shop - had breakfast, answered emails etc. At the shop I asked Aspasia the Greek word for windscreen wiper. She couldn't remember so I looked it up in my miniscule pocket dictionary. (The print is so small that I carry a flat fresnel lens inside the dic so I can read it - almost.) Lo and behold, the word was there! Aspasia prised the dictionary from my hands and glanced at it. "Vaivaios!" she cried ("of course") and read it out. I asked her to repeat it. It's not an easy word to read. Many Greek words are like German in that they join together three separate words without hyphens then defy anyone to pronounce it. But more about this, later. Jenny had a hair appointment in Vamos so we set off at 11am. I dropped her off in the car park. (At this point I should mention that the car park is built on a hill, which makes it a little difficult to park and also causes problems with opening/closing the car doors, due to gravity.* In addition, local drivers park their vehicles in the entrances, leaving just enough room for an Atoz without wing mirrors to pass through!) *Gravity plays a much bigger part in Cretan life than it does in, say, predominantly flat Cheshire. A lot of thought goes into avoiding gravity as much as possible when planning a route, for example, or building a house. In fact, if you look at where some of the churches and monasteries are built, you'd think the builders were really trying very hard to minimise the effects of gravity. Unfortunately, they also minimised the effects of oxygen, making it difficult to do any work up there. This may be why they never bothered to fit toilet seats or, indeed, to install toilets at all. They never got further than digging the hole before running out of breath. This is probably the source of that well known German phrase "ich kann kaum atmen in diesem abort".2 But I digress... Normally it takes just 10 minutes to drive to Vamos - except on Wednesdays if you get caught behind the refuse collectors. The roads are narrow - as you may have noticed! Luckily, it wasn't long before they moved and made room for us to pass. (Another layer of paint lost.) I drove off in search of windscreen wiper blades and called at one of the two petrol stations, located on opposite sides of the road, where a nice old man (who speaks no English) resides. I had prepared my question in Greek in my notebook: "Can you please change my windscreen wipers?" I had looked this up in advance and I managed "boreete na allatzete ee" but I struggled to pronounce "eeyalokathareesteeras" (glass-clean-scrubber) and, as I stumbled over this word, the old chap grabbed my notebook and said "nai nai" to indicate his understanding. "Theestikos then echoume, alla.." (Unfortunately we don't have, but..") and he went on to describe where I could buy them. I followed his directions and ended up in Kalives, right next door to the book shop and Vodaphone shop that we'd visited yesterday! A very helpful man offered me Peugeot originals for 40 Euros or "pattern parts" (the same as fitted) for 20 Euros. I chose the latter. We chatted, while he fitted them, in a mixture of Greek and English. He told me his name was Bebis. Back inside the shop he handed me a leaflet that explained that he does emissions testing, which is now mandatory and separate from the MOT. "Eengleesh or Greek", he asked, offering the leaflet. "Both," said I. "I'm learning Greek so it'll be useful". I read the leaflet then explained that I'd just bought the car so it has a new certificate. He asked to see it and I told him it was "sto spiti mas" (in our house). "That's no good if the police stop you. Eet will be a beeg fine eef you do not have!" I made a mental note to put the Emissions Card back in the car. I thanked him and handed over a 20 Euro note, plus a 2 Euro coin. "Ochee," he began to say, waving it away. But I insisted: "Ena thoro. Efxareesto ya ti voytheea sas." (A gift. Thanks for your help.) He took it with good grace and waved goodbye as I drove off, back towards Vamos. I pulled in to the garage again and the old man eyed me suspiciously. I gave him a "thumbs up" and he smiled. "Oreiya?" he asked. I told him, yes, everything was OK and I had called to thank him for his help. He asked if I needed petrol - obviously keen to turn this into a sale. I started to say "no thanks, unfortunately it is full" but my phone rang and startled me so what I actually said was "no I am stuffed." He probably thought this somewhat rude (it also means "pregnant" in a coarse sense) and turned away as I listened to Jenny asking why I wasn't in the square to meet her. I jumped into the car and drove the 400 metres to the car park, squeezed in past a large white van, parked in the entrance, causing hardly any damage at all, and saw a heavily cropped Jenny waving me to the one remaining parking place. Her hair looked very nice.* Another noteworthy point: by 10am the car park is always full so there are usually two cars battling to fill one space that a third car is trying to exit from. This time we were lucky. *If you like your wife's new haircut you have to say so. Don't rely on your obvious lack of disgust to mean "that's pretty good." You have to say so, otherwise life won't be worth living. It has taken me several** years of marriage to learn this simple fact. **A tip. If you can't remember how long you've been married, never try to guess! If, as is inevitable, you get it wrong by even a day, you'll never hear the end of it. We were married on Christmas Eve in erm.. several years ago and, occasionally, I forget - usually on Christmas Eve, in fact, because I'm all excited about Santa coming! Frankly, the subject of anniversaries is best avoided altogether. Now, the part you've been waiting for - Cooking - by Jenny I feel it is time to add a note myself about meal preparation here. Mike has made only passing references to it. "Jenny cooked dinner" appears occasionally, usually preceded by the words "I had a nap while...." The house was sold as fully furnished and the kitchen cupboards looked fairly full. We photographed all their contents in May, which showed me that I needed to bring kitchen knives and small saucepans, but the basics seemed to be there. Of course you don't expect to inherit a full store of culinary basics. I got: Olive oil (of course), vinegar, 3 packets of damp salt, a jar of beetroot, some curry powder (we don't eat curry) and a large jar of unlabelled herbs that smell a bit like mint. There were also 2 tins of tomatoes, but no tin opener. I threw away a number of unidentified ingredients and jars with expiry dates around 2004, including something labelled "Lime leaves". There is a set of 3 fancy bottles of liquid. One of which has some sort of dead plant in it. One of the others may be olive oil, but I haven't been brave enough to try it yet. So I open a recipe book - of course I know I need to buy the fresh ingredients - but what else will I need? "Salt and pepper", well, salt I can do in handfuls, but pepper goes on the list. Next 300mls of stock; can I buy stock cubes in the local shop? I doubt it. The Greeks believe in everything prepared freshly, from scratch. Mike nearly gave the shop owner apoplexy by asking her if she stocked casserole mix! After going through a few recipes I made a list of store cupboard essentials. Bay leaves, garlic, rice, flour. You should have seen how long it took me in Lidl to work out which packet was plain flour, and which Self Raising! Also there were pieces of equipment I didn't know were missing until I came to use them. So far I have bought:
I sent Mike to the local shop to buy a tin opener, but as he has never used one before he doesn't know what they look like and he brought home a bean slicer. I sent him back! Still on my shopping list are:
The first, disastrous, Greek recipe I tried was supposed to be a meat and vegetable custard. I chose it because the ingredients are simple and it included mince and courgettes, which are plentiful at the moment. They are baked with whisked eggs, which are supposed to set in the oven. I whisked the eggs for ages, but I only have one of those hand whisks, which uses a tall, thin cup so maybe I didn't get enough air into them, or maybe the mince still had too much liquid left in it. I don't know, but what came out of the oven was meat and courgettes floating in a grey mess. Mike ate it and he didn't die so it must have been OK. I had a sandwich. [Mike - it was really nice and I ate the rest for breakfast on a following day] I have been making pizzas, not quite from scratch, but on bought bases. They have turned out well and are much tastier than the cellophane wrapped supermarket ones. They are quick and reliable. I have also made Kleftiko (lamb), one of our favourite Greek dishes, and something I have made at home, so no problems there then? Oh no. I went to our shop and asked for lamb suitable for Kleftiko. Unfortunately, the son was on duty and obviously had no idea where his food came from. In a panic he called his mother who said, no they had nothing, but she would ask her husband. He is a farmer, and I had visions of him going out and killing a sheep for me. We left in a hurry. There is a supermarket in Vamos with a butcher's department. There was very little meat on show, but we asked again and the big, hairy proprietor disappeared into the freezer and came out with half a sheep. How much did I want? "Only enough for two people" didn't seem to be good enough, I had to mark on the sheep where to chop! He added a few more inches for luck and handed me a parcel. I used half and froze the rest for next time. That was a good meal. It had minimal preparation, apart from buying the lamb, and a long cooking time to make it very tender. The other Greek meal I tried, which we have both enjoyed in restaurants, is stuffed tomatoes and peppers. The stuffing is a rice mixture, (almost a risotto) but that's OK I've already got the rice in. What else do I need? Garlic, bought one of those. Next? Blanched Almonds, chopped. That can't be right. I've never eaten stuffed tomatoes with crunchy bits. I checked my other Greek cookery book. No almonds, but pine nuts instead! Can't do that because Mike is allergic to those, so I am saving them for a special occasion.3 I add almonds to my list. There are also raisins in the recipe, too, but that is going too far. I assemble my ingredients and waste 10 minutes looking for the garlic. After looking everywhere twice I give up and we have it without. The almonds take forever to blanch and then chop, so altogether the meal takes two hours to prepare and cook. Next day is 1st October and I turn the page on my Greek cookery calendar to find a recipe for stuffed courgettes, which uses neither almonds, pine nuts nor raisins. I think I'll stick to risotto in future, chop up the tomatoes and peppers and add them to the mix! I did inherit a food processor with the house. I have always wanted one, but it frightens me a bit. I'll have to study the instructions carefully before I use it. I realise it would have made chopping the almonds easier, but probably no quicker by the time I had put the machine together. We are surviving all right on my experimental cooking and every meal goes down with a lot of wine, which helps. Neither of us shows any sign of losing weight yet so I must be doing OK. No doubt Mike will mention if it gets worse. Wednesday Afternoon (Mike) I see food and I eat it. You probably guessed!
We came to a junction at which were built three very clean-looking, modern stone houses. In the nearest garden (or "yard") we espied one of our fellow walkers from yesterday. He spotted us. "What are YOU doing here?" "We're just out for a walk and we thought we'd come this way to see where you lived," replied Jenny. (This was news to me. I thought we were heading for the shop and an ice cream.) "Well, I can't stop," he replied. "I'm cleaning the pool." We walked about two miles around the village on mostly level ground. Then headed downhill for home and dinner. I forget what we ate and I don't suppose you care. I worked long into the evening, answering emails, scanning documents and converting DVDs for watching on my iPod. I've just remembered to put the emissions card, MOT certificate, Insurance cover note and proof of ownership back in the car. Have I missed anything that a potential thief might need, I wonder? Darn! I just realised that I missed my siesta AGAIN today. And now it's TOO LATE! Time for bed. Chapter 21 - Thursday - Mike and The Dish Footnote 2. "I can barely breathe in this shithouse." Footnote 1. There is no footnote 1. The number 1 doesn't show up very well in text so I avoid using it. Also, if a reader comes across a number 2, he thinks "oh, I must have missed number one. I'll go back and read it all more carefully." Which, in my opinion, is quite desirable! But now that I've told you, I guess you won't fall for that one again. (That 1 - get it???) | |||||||||||||
