Greek Eats

So, it's been a little quiet over here for the last couple of weeks. I'm sorry. Except for how I'm not sorry. 

See, for the last two weeks, I've been traveling throughout Greece. This was amazing for many reasons, the least of which is that I can now begin stories with wonderfully pretentious lines like: "Well, as I was walking through Athens..." 

I won't do that to you, at least not on purpose anyway. But I will try to fill you in on what we saw, and of course, what we ate, as we travelled from the mainland, to Crete, and finally, to the little island of Paros. I will also start at the beginning, which in this case just happens to be the part of the story that goes: 

"Well, as I was admiring the Parthenon, I...." 

Falafels with Yogurt Sauce

Eggplant Rolls stuffed with Feta and Mint

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After Athens, and a wonderful but slightly kitschy bus tour that took us through the Peloponnese and parts of Northern Greece, the second portion of our trip took place in Crete. Here the mountains seem to butt right up against the sea, the massive rocks and the crystal clear water separated only by small villages placed precariously between the two. It's hard to imagine swimming somewhere as beautiful as the Aegean sea, the water here is bluer than the sky, warmer than Hawaii, and saltier than the rim of Jimmy Buffett's margarita glass. 

Parts, particularly by the sea can be quite touristy, but inland, at the mouth of Samaria Gorge which runs from central Crete to it's southern coast, there is fresh produce, rural farms, wild mountain goats, expansive and seemingly empty landscapes. It feels as though you are entering into a world far more simple, authentic, unpolished, and unhurried. 

Cretan mountain goat, never was there a finer looking creature

 

Local farmer's chickens relaxing under the shade of a fig tree

Zucchini blossoms

In Greece, honey made from herbs instead of flowers was fairly common. It's definitely unique, though not at all bad. 

Everywhere we went we saw plains of olive trees, essential to the greek economy and of course, to almost all greek meals. Every aspect of these trees is used. Seriously. I would not have been surprised to have sat down at a restaurant and have been served fresh olives in an olive wood bowl with a drizzle of herbed olive oil on top. You think I'm kidding; I am most definitely not kidding. 

Fresh tomatoes and mozzarella topped with olive oil and basil 

Grecian meatballs

Zucchini balls

Tzatziki, a yogurt-based appetizer often served with freshly baked bread or pita

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This is Paradise. Well, it's technical name is Paros, but I'm pretty sure that was just a typo in the guide book, and the travel brochures, and, you know, all the maps of Greece. 

Paros is fresh food, hot sun, cool air, white washed buildings on winding streets, and cafes that overlook the harbor where you can hear the shouts of the local fisherman as they unload their boats, wipe sweat from their faces, braid thick rope into nets.

This is the kind of place that makes you want to accidentally lose your passport, rent a hole in the wall apartment, and live off of fresh fruit and salty sea air. It makes you want to never be anywhere else besides the cool circle of shadow cast by a beach umbrella. It makes you want to learn to paint. It makes you want to drink iced cappuccinos every morning as you listen to the sound of the ocean and feel the crisp wind whip your hair in sporadic fits around your face. 

Lots of people these days have different definitions of "organic" of "local" of "fresh." In America, we often find ourselves staring at the "organic, locally grown" oranges we just purchased, and asking: "this came from, I don't know, maybe 150 miles away, but I just got it from that nice man at my local Farmer's market, so... that still counts right?"

Don't ask me, I like to stay out of these sorts of things. 

But what I will say is that I'm pretty sure you can safely claim your food is local if the grapes you're eating grew on your neighbors trellis. And that you would probably not be corrected, if you said the fish you're about to eat is fresh as you pass by it hanging--dead and drying--in front of your restaurant. 

 

Greek Salad

Chicken Gyros

Greek Frozen Yogurt

Latte Freddo and freshly made Greek Donuts

This is the view we had on our last night in Paros. I think it is always a good sign when you travel, to have that moment, right at the end, where leaving seems just a little bit painful. 

Don't get me wrong, I get homesick with the best of them. 

You get tired of your dirty clothes being stupidly shoved in the same suitcase as your clean ones and exhausted by the lack of sleep. You miss your family and your bed. And, despite the delicious food, you do get a bit tired of eating the same few ingredients again and again. I'm pretty sure if someone offered me another greek salad I would be physically ill. I confess: one night we even went out for chinese food just to break the mold. Not gonna pretend that didn't happen. 

But despite all those things, during those last few days it was still impossible not to hope that, somehow, it might never end. 

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One last thing: 
Out of all the many greek dishes we enjoyed, sadly, this delightful looking number was not among them. Thought I'd give it a mention though, for anyone heading to Greece, please do report back on one of McDonald's finer attempts at adapting their menu to suit foreign palates.