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Even More Mezéthes (Greek Appetizers)

 
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"The whole Mediterranean, the sculpture, the palms, the gold beads,
the bearded heroes, the wine, the ideas, the ships, the moonlight, the
winged gorgons, the bronze men, the philosophers - all of it seems to rise
in the sour, pungent taste of these black olives between the teeth. A taste
older than meat, older than wine. A taste as old as cold water."
~ Lawrence Durrell

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View of Water,
Santorini, Greece
Photographic Print
Ricca, Connie
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Ouzo and Plate of
Black Olives, Greece
Photographic Print
Outram, Steve
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The Foods of the
Greek Islands:
Cooking and Culture
at the Crossroads of
the Mediterranean

Mykonos, Greece
Photographic Print
Adams, Peter
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Athens Steps
Art Print
Harrill, James
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Sunlit Steps
Art Print
Meis, Georges
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Mezéthes... (Greek Appetizers) Part 3
Recipes from a Greek Island
©1991 Susie Jacobs, Simon & Schuster

“Imagine you are meandering through the lanes and alleys of an island fishing village. The moon reflects on the whitewashed walls and the town glows in the
dark. Windows and doors are open to let in the night air. As you pass along you
hear heated discussions and snoring, laughter, televisions, of course, and music
in the near distance. ‘Páme miá vólta sto fengári…’ ‘Let’s go for a walk to the
moon…’ is an old tune sung on countless balmy nights like this, around
countless tables in countless tavernas, gardens, and cafés.
Across a clearing, under a couple of eucalyptus trees, is a table of singers and
one rapt guitar player. They motion you to join them and pull up another chair.
On the table there are jugs of Retsina and plates placed haphazardly to be shared
among everyone. There are shiny, wrinkled olives, pungent pickled eggplant, and
salads of sun-ripened tomatoes, crisp cucumbers, and onions. There are fried cheeses, smelts or pilchards, meatballs, and grilled sausages – all with plenty
of lemon wedges to squeeze over them. There is a plate of sliced lambs’ tongues
and a plate of sliced pink and white octopus, both in vinegar, oil, and herbs. It
is a simple feast of simple food to be enjoyed along with the night, the music,
and the company – an informal communion under the stars,
These ‘mezéthes’, or ‘little bits’, are a national Greek institution. They can be anything from a handful of olives offered in the middle of a field to a grand table spread lavishly as the prelude to a feast. Greek hospitality does not allow for
anyone to enter a home without having just a ‘little bit’, whatever the time.
Whether you call in the afternoon, or later in the evening when you may
already have eaten dinner, you will be offered a little something. Nor would
a Greek drink any sort of alcohol without some accompaniment, and oúzo
invariably means ‘mezéthes’ to nibble alongside it, whether in the home, an
ouzerié, or taverna.
The word ‘meze’ is Turkish, but the idea dates back at least as far as the 3rd
century BC, when Lynceus characterized it,
‘…for the cook sets before you a large plate on which are five small plates. One holds garlic, another a pair of sea urchins, another a sweet wine sop, another
ten cockles, the last a small piece of sturgeon. While I am eating this, another
is eating that; and while he is eating that, I have made away with this. What I
want. Good sir, is both the one and the other, but my wish is impossible. For I
have neither five mouths nor five right hands…’
Poor Lynceus seems to have had the wrong idea, as it has never been in the
Greek spirit to glut oneself.”

Cumin Biscuits
(Biscóta-Kímino)

“When she heard I was writing this book, my friend Martha, from
Texas, asked me to include this little recipe within a recipe:

'A little oúzo in the moussaka
A little oúzo in the cook
Serve on terrace with 360 degrees
Of panoramic view'

…which is exactly what I do with these biscuits. They are divine
at sunset dunked into a glass of oúzo.”

Makes about 36

3 1/3 cups all-purpose flour, plus extra for shaping
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
Finely grated zest of 2 medium lemons
2 large eggs, beaten
1/4 – 1/2 cup oúzo or other anise-flavored liqueur
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
3 tablespoons cumin seeds, lightly toasted
then roughly crushed with pestle and mortar

Combine the flour, sugar, salt, and grated lemon zest in a mixing bowl.
Whisk the eggs with the smaller quantity of oúzo (you can use more later
if the dough seems dry). Beat this into the dry ingredients until well
absorbed. Add the baking powder to the crushed cumin seeds and then
mix this thoroughly into the dough.
On a well-floured surface make half the dough into a sausage shape, about
18 inches long. If it holds its shape too well, it probably has too much flour and you should work in a little more oúzo. Transfer the shaped “sausage”
to an oiled, or non-stick, baking sheet, and repeat with the other half of the dough. Place the two ”sausages” far enough apart to allow fort spreading – which they should have already started doing.
Bake the “sausages” in an oven preheated to 350 degrees F for 45-50 minutes. Remove them, cool for 10 minutes, and then cut into 1-inch-
thick slices. Arrange these in one layer on the baking sheet and return
them to the oven to dry out – about 10 minutes, turning them over
halfway through. If you let them dry out too much, they will become
jaw breakers, while if you don’t let them dry thoroughly, they won’t
keep well. Like everything in life, they should be just right. Cool and
store in an airtight container.

Apricots Filled with Smoked Trout
(Veríkoka Yemistá)

“The Egyptians credited the Greeks with inventing smoking as a means of preserving food and the Greeks do it extremely well to this day. When
choosing smoked trout, it should be firm – not mushy – and should not
smell too strongly of smoke. Island-ripened, sun-ripened apricots are a
poem. If you can find a poetic apricot, or one that isn’t too hard to ripen
or too mushy and tasteless, then these canapés taste like spring itself.
They can also be made with smoked eel, or peach or nectarine halves.”

12 luscious apricots
1 smoked trout (about 1/2 pound), skinned, filleted, and flaked
1/2 hothouse [European] cucumber (about 1/2 pound),
peeled, seeds removed, and flesh diced
1 fat scallion, finely chopped (about 2 teaspoons)
1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh dill
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
1 tablespoon fruity olive oil
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Wash the apricots [or peaches or nectarines] and halve them through the seam. Remove the pits. In a mixing bowl carefully toss together the flaked trout, cucumber dice, chopped onion, dill, lemon juice, and olive oil, and season. Pile a spoonful of the salad on each apricot [or peach or nectarine] half and arrange prettily on a platter.

Lamb or Kid Terrine
(Katsikáki Paté)

“You can buy a whole of half baby kid from an island butcher here. There are a
few precise cuts with names, which happily forces one to develop ways of using
the trimmings. Talk to your butcher about using inexpensive cuts of lamb, or
his trimmings, for this terrine which should be made ahead and eaten after a
few days. It is ideal for a sunny spring lunch, particularly a picnic, with
tomato soup, olives, capers, pickles, and lots of country bread.
You can make a nice lunch for two from the lamb shanks which are left.
These can be served cold or hot, with boiled vegetables and a little broth
or jellied consommé.”

Serves 8

1 pound young lamb or kid meat, fat, gristle and
tendons removed, cut into cubes
1/2 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves, or
1/4 teaspoon dried mountain thyme
1/4 cup Cognac
2 large eggs
1 1/2 cups thick [well-drained] plain yogurt,
sour cream or crème fraîche
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground white pepper
1/2 cup pine nuts
4 bay leaves

Jelly
2 lamb (or kid) shanks
1 veal shank, cracked
1 medium onion, stuck with 1 clove
1 carrot
1 handful parsley stems (why waste them?)
1 handful celery tops and leaves
2 bay leaves
10 black peppercorns
Salt

Make the pâté, or jelly, for this dish a day ahead, as chilling and skimming
is the best way. Put the lamb (or kid) shanks and the veal shank in a pot
and add about 1 quart of cold water to cover. Bring to a boil, uncovered
(to keep the broth from becoming cloudy). Skim, then add the remaining ingredients. Simmer for 2-3 hours until reduced by almost half. This
should make a nice jelly. Strain through a dampened cheesecloth and chill.
Meanwhile, marinate the cubed meat with the thyme and Cognac for 4
hours at room temperature (or overnight in the refrigerator).
Work the meat in a food processor until it is as smooth as you can get it,
or grind finely. (The old tried-and-true method is to pound the meat in a mortar with a pestle and then force through a sieve.) Beat in the eggs,
one at a time, then the yogurt, sour cream, or crème fraîche and finally
the olive oil, salt and ground white pepper.
Scrape the mixture into a bowl and stir in the pine nuts, trying to
incorporate them evenly.
Oil the sides and bottom of a 3 1/2-cup-capacity ovenproof earthenware
or glass baking dish. Press the meat mixture into this and arrange the bay
leaves on top in a pattern. Cover with foil.
Stand the dish in a baking pan and pour in boiling water to come halfway
up the side.
Cook the terrine in an oven preheated to 350 degrees F for 1 1/4 – 1 1/2 hours. When the juices that rise to the surface are clear, the terrine is
done. Remove from the oven and weight with something that fits inside
the rim of the dish. When it is cold, refrigerate it.
The next day scrape the fat from the top and pour in the melted jelly to
cover it well. Chill again. The terrine is at its best after 3 or 4 days.
 

Featured Archive Recipes:
Mezéthes Part 1
Mezéthes Part 2
Laurie Colwin's Parmesan Sesame Biscuits
Layered White Bean, Tuna and Vegetable Dip
Smoked Trout and Tarragon Dip
Roasted Eggplant-Chèvre Mousse
Vegetable and Veal Pâté


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