Evi L. Voutsina
The Cookery of Lefkada Tastes, narratives and customs in the cycle of the seasons Copy editing: Popi Moupayiatzi Graphics: Aphroditi Zouki Translation: Doolie Sloman
Š 2009, Evi L. Voutsina and Fagotto Publications Main Offices: 15, Valtetsiou Street, Exarcheia, 10680 Athens T: 210 3645147, F: 210 3645149 Branch: 7, Zakynthou Street, 31100 Lefkada T-F: 26450 21095 email: info@fagottobooks.gr www.fagottobooks.gr
ISBN: 978-960-6685-19-4 The cover photographs are from the files of Fagotto Publications, except one belonging to Mrs. Melina Vlakhou, whom we thank. All the photographs of the text are from the files of Fritz Berger, whom we heartily thank, except the photographs of pages??????????? from Fagotto Publications files.
To Maria, to Tassia, to Aleka, to Ioulia ‌ to friendship
A confession as foreword Now that the time has come for me to write a book about the cookery of Lefkada, I feel the need to stop, to ponder for a moment on what has happened during these more than twelve years since, travelling all over Greece, I have methodically been recording what I call, conventionally, traditional cookery: the recipes, the techniques, the conditions of human life that give the art of cooking its particular taste. The object of my research is the cookery of the agrarian sector, where cooking with local produce, according to the seasons, was created and preserved. Traditional cookery is folk art, or better, a mix of folk art and techniques. It is consequently handed down orally from mother to daughter and executed by women principally. I also in parallel record urban cuisine (of which I have already presented a small part in my book ‘Asteon gefseis – Syntages apo tin astiki kouzina tou Ellinismou’ (The Tastes of the Towns – Recipes from the urban cuisine of the world of Greeks), Kaleidoskopio, 2004. A comparison is particularly revealing, as one is able to ascertain the process of incorporation of imported elements, the similarities and differences in technique, in the taste, in the ethos of food. I began this task urged by the wish to know my origins of cookery, and so as to cease stumbling around in alien fields. Not because I underestimate the cooking (and not only) traditions of other countries, but for someone to exist creatively it is imperative to know one’s identity. This is the only way to avoid global-pulping and contribute, with one’s own cultural elements, to the variegation of the global village that our world has become. I am not trying to go backward. But I do know that a branch without a root will not grow, it withers. It is this root that I wish to know of, and contribute to its fresh blossoming. The majority of those I meet in the course of my research is women, and in fact elderly women. By now, these encounters have become the warp in the weave of my life, something I experience as a privilege, as a gift. It is not only the graciousness, the inborn natural courtesy and dignity taught by these women by their very existence. They are entities filled with essence; you might say they had cast off every trace of cosmetic in their behaviour and of anything superfluous. It may be due to their busy lives – they don’t even sleep much. It may also be because they have gained everything they have with a struggle. Or further, it may be that as the years go by they have come to terms with them and are conscious that what time is left is precious and all that yackety-yack narrows it and lessens it. All of this therefore, together with a pungent and profound female sense of humour has done away with any futility, and what remains is a bare kernel, a presence as simple and trenchant as the phrase of a great writer. Above all, what weighs most for me is their plain and sharp speech. Their modesty, their restrained gestures. Their gender is a heavy burden. They know it and they have never accepted it. They do not speak of revolution as we…fire-breathing feminists do, but their life is full of small (grandiose), steady, daily reversals. They have common sense and humility, they are cognizant of duty. And it is not only the farmer women. At the seashore the women do not dig or hoe or reap. But they do unscramble the trawl-line, they pick the fish out of fishing nets, often they go with their men out to sea. They too are like the farm women. The situation is the same from end to end of this land. And today, in Lefkada, the women are no different. Here too they play a leading part in life, with the same lack of noise. In this case however, the figures have a ‘personal’ memory for me. They resemble my grandmother, my mother, the aunts.
I have known many of them since they were young. When I was still a child I was given fresh almonds from their hands, I have followed behind them as they carried the jerrycan or the barrel of water on their head. Others treated me to a handful of boiled whelks or hot, bright red crabs full of eggs. This is where I belong, in this land of azure light, of the olive tree and the cypress, of emerald seas.
And now, a word about cooking So, in this traditional cookery, the final result has incorporated the labour entailed in the route of the ingredients until they reach the saucepan. Cultivating the land, the relationship with nature – the source of nourishment – water, management to ensure sufficiency. When an old woman tells you to use ‘a cup of olive oil’ or ‘a generous handful of flour’, her speech and her heart contain the freezing fingers picking the little olives from among the rocks, the dry-stone terracing and the weeds; the bent back in the heat of the sun to reap, to harvest; to see to the animals; to curdle the cheese; to carry the firewood; to make bread and bake; to raise children; to look after the elderly; to ‘hallow the souls’ of the departed. In town – even in a small town -- the women obtain their milk from the dairy, but the village woman has to milk her goat herself, to strain the milk, boil it or make cheese from it. The potato she puts in her saucepan has been planted with her own hands and her own labour brought it into the home. Her cooking in consequence incorporates the labour, the rhythms of nature, the seasonal cycles, the harmony of co-existence. This is what I call the ethos of food. Things are different nowadays, and of course much better. The island has the good fortune to make a comfortable living from tourism. It has so many beauties that visitors cannot get enough of them. But, in Lefkada, poverty began to be relieved by emigration. That is when it best youths left, the most robust of its children. The postman would arrive at the village and blow his horn, and immediately the swarm of women ran up to him, a stampeding throng. The postman, with a serious look, in his peaked cap, distributed dozens of letters. Most of them – probably with spelling mistakes: “My respekted parants, etc.” -- contained a cheque, which was a breath of ease for the family. I am glad to see so many foreigners enjoying their stay in Lefkada, but I’m sorry that they do not know what it is to be woken by the sound of raindrops pinging on corrugated iron, they don’t know that after watching the sun set at Athani, above Porto Katsiki, the courgette sprouts have a special deliciousness – particularly if accompanied by some fried bream. They have never tasted grey mullet baked in the oven with plenty of garlic after a swim at Castro … I long to tell all the foreigners that they should not miss the autumn light at Dragano, at Athani, at Hortata, at the little threshing floors for the lentils of Englouvi. And how differently they would experience Lefkada if they had chanced to meet Auntie-Loula at Platystoma and Mrs. Amalia in town, if they had drunk a somada with well-water at Pala’s with a couple of rusks from Zoita’s bakery, if they too had dipped a string of oranges into the sea at Epiphany… EVI VOUTSINA July 2008 P.S.: While researching in Lefkada I kept to the rules I make for each place. The difference was that here I did not ask the way – I knew it.
CONTENTS History of Lefkada........................................................... 5 A confession as foreword.................................................. 8
‘Poverty is the mother of invention’ Business with outstanding … promotion Nerobabali Babanatsa Bazina.......................................................................... 32 Rokissa Pan-fried bread .............................................. 33 New wheat – new bread The field guard and the priest Cracked wheat The bread plank and the malatha...... 34 Hard times past Frumenty........................................... 35 Barley bread and bread ring Corn meal batter The old woman’s days................................................. 36 Complete recycling and … sweet dreams Wheat fields in the olive grove..................................... 37
OLIVE, VINE, WHEAT Snack at olive gathering Τrogades The saint’s olive tree...13 The ‘sundries’ of the olive tree Grafted olive trees The magic of the olive grove........................................ 14 The bassá The olive press The holiday fire................ 15 Skasolies Stakhtolies Kolymbades olives Natural fertilizer.......................................................... 16 Sale of an olive tree......................................................... 17 Wine-making at Platystoma Ghiomatari...................... 18 Laghero Aromatic laghero Export trade.................... 19 Strength and skill Commerce... The floating barrels....20 Grape must pie Sun-dried moustopitta An…airlift Grape juice syrup......................................................... 21 Grape must cookies Risen grape-juice syrup cookies.... 22 Sultanas Discriminations from long ago Vassiliki currants Figs or quince in grape-juice syrup................. 23 Sour grapes bottled Khosades A gift in return to Mother Earth................................................................. 24 The vineyards Rituals to ward off evil Sharing............. 25 Finishing reaping How a taste changes with the times The Mainland, the Punda, foreign parts........................... 26 Reaping, threshing and the first bread The blessing of bread................................................... 27 P(y)romades, the archetype food Difficult bread Α starter for risen bread: rising – kneading Risen unsweet cookies................................................. 28 Risen peasant cookies .................................................... 29 Cheese biscuits Angel cookies or deficient cookies Flaouna and cypress fragrance...................................... 30 Our own bread . ............................................................ 31
DAILY FARE a. Good Food from the earth Wise sayings Broad beans Oven baked broad beans......41 Broad beans ‘fricassée’ Artichokes with broad beans..... 42 Artichokes with rice Potatoes with rice Stewed ‘Barbarelia’ Stewed yellow squash................................................... 43 Runner beans and string beans Sakatinia runner beans with tomato Courgettes and potatoes with garlic......... 44 Eggplant with potatoes Oven baked eggplant Eggplant with quince and sweet potatoes..................... 45 A summer dish Courgette sprouts................................ 46 Flower food Blites ragout Stuffed tomatoes............... 47 Paragiomisma Mushrooms with potatoes or rice.......... 48 Stewed mushrooms Mushrooms Potato croquettes... 49 Fried sweet potatoes Potatoes for all weathers How potatoes were kept Open tart............................. 50 Pa…katoes Green courgette pie Pastry crust............. 51 Sweet pumpkin pie Kaghiani pie................................. 52 Courgette pie with their flowers Briani à la Karya Briani kofto................................................................. 53 T(i)matsi........................................................................ 54
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Olive, vine, wheat
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