LIMITED PLATES IN LARISA
In the summer of 1969 I took a little time off from my work in Belgrade (see earlier posts) and headed south to Athens. Greece had been under the military rule of Colonel George Papadopoulos for a couple of years and his junta was getting a bad press overseas. My trip to Athens coincided with a media junket being put on by the colonels and I found myself on a whirlwind trip from Athens to Salonika with a mixed bag of correspondents representing papers from the New York Times to Moscow’s Pravda.
Along the way we stopped for a night in the provincial town of Larisa. The American press (I was wearing my Copley News Service hat) were lodged at the best hotel in town along with the Germans (Die Welt and Frankfurter Algemeiner Zeitung), a Dutchman (Het Parool) and Italians (a couple of freelance photographers and somebody from the Vatican). The domestic press were given rooms at the second best hotel in town, while the two Russians (Pravda and Izvestia) a Bulgarian and a Yugoslav (Politika) were given dormitory beds at a rather down-trodden hostel.
We did all eat together, however -- at a bazouki restaurant, one of those Greek establishments (and often a tourist trap) where you are encouraged to break plates to show appreciation for the music. Of course, you pay for the plates you break. On arriving at the restaurant our hosts gave us each an official looking communique that contained the ‘house rules’ for the evening. We all thought it was a joke, but no. The American, German, Dutch and Italian contingent were allowed to break 20 plates each at government expense, the domestic press were rationed to 10, while our East European colleagues were told that they would be held financially responsible for any of their breakages.
The Western media shared their bazouki plates with the less fortunate East Europeans that night in Larisa, much to the ire of the accompanying junta officer who made copious notes in a small book about our ‘subversive activities.’
It was on this particular trip that I discovered a classic Greek walnut sauce called skordalia, which actually derives from the Greek word for garlic and is an excellent accompaniment to a baked fish, or large seafood, such as jumbo prawns or crayfish. (A few years later while travelling through Rajasthan in India, I came across a walnut and mint chutney that vaguely reminded me of skordalia).
SKORDALIA
50 g fresh white bread
4 cloves of garlic
50 g of crushed walnuts (or almonds)
3 tablespoons olive oil
Salt, pepper and lemon juice to taste
Remove the crust from the bread and moisten with a little water. Squeeze dry and combine with garlic and nuts to make a smooth paste. Add the oil gently and finish with salt and lemon juice to taste. Grind all ingredients in a blender. A little water may be added if the paste is too thick.
Another version is to substitute the bread with a medium-sized hot boiled potato, which is crushed and combined with the garlic and nuts.
WALNUT MINT CHUTNEY
12 walnuts
2 green chilli peppers, seeded and ribs removed
1 cup mint leaves, washed and drained
1/3 cup of water
3 tablespoons of sour cream
salt to taste
Shell walnuts and soak overnight in water. Grind all ingredients in a blender.
Along the way we stopped for a night in the provincial town of Larisa. The American press (I was wearing my Copley News Service hat) were lodged at the best hotel in town along with the Germans (Die Welt and Frankfurter Algemeiner Zeitung), a Dutchman (Het Parool) and Italians (a couple of freelance photographers and somebody from the Vatican). The domestic press were given rooms at the second best hotel in town, while the two Russians (Pravda and Izvestia) a Bulgarian and a Yugoslav (Politika) were given dormitory beds at a rather down-trodden hostel.
We did all eat together, however -- at a bazouki restaurant, one of those Greek establishments (and often a tourist trap) where you are encouraged to break plates to show appreciation for the music. Of course, you pay for the plates you break. On arriving at the restaurant our hosts gave us each an official looking communique that contained the ‘house rules’ for the evening. We all thought it was a joke, but no. The American, German, Dutch and Italian contingent were allowed to break 20 plates each at government expense, the domestic press were rationed to 10, while our East European colleagues were told that they would be held financially responsible for any of their breakages.
The Western media shared their bazouki plates with the less fortunate East Europeans that night in Larisa, much to the ire of the accompanying junta officer who made copious notes in a small book about our ‘subversive activities.’
It was on this particular trip that I discovered a classic Greek walnut sauce called skordalia, which actually derives from the Greek word for garlic and is an excellent accompaniment to a baked fish, or large seafood, such as jumbo prawns or crayfish. (A few years later while travelling through Rajasthan in India, I came across a walnut and mint chutney that vaguely reminded me of skordalia).
SKORDALIA
50 g fresh white bread
4 cloves of garlic
50 g of crushed walnuts (or almonds)
3 tablespoons olive oil
Salt, pepper and lemon juice to taste
Remove the crust from the bread and moisten with a little water. Squeeze dry and combine with garlic and nuts to make a smooth paste. Add the oil gently and finish with salt and lemon juice to taste. Grind all ingredients in a blender. A little water may be added if the paste is too thick.
Another version is to substitute the bread with a medium-sized hot boiled potato, which is crushed and combined with the garlic and nuts.
WALNUT MINT CHUTNEY
12 walnuts
2 green chilli peppers, seeded and ribs removed
1 cup mint leaves, washed and drained
1/3 cup of water
3 tablespoons of sour cream
salt to taste
Shell walnuts and soak overnight in water. Grind all ingredients in a blender.
posted by antwerpalan | 13:56
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