Green beans, Greek style

Today is the Greek independence day, commemorating the start of the War of Greek Independence back in 1821. I'm celebrating with sharing one of my favourite Greek dishes with you.

The recipe has been with me since early 1990s, and I remember clearly that I discovered it from a Finnish women's magazine. Cannot remember the exact date or the name of the magazine, but it was called "kreikkalainen papupata" or Greek bean stew. Since then - and that means for the last 20+ years - I've been making it every now and then. It's versatile - it's lovely when steaming hot, but also nice at room temperature and perfectly edible straight from the fridge. It goes equally well with some bread, or with a grilled steak, it can handle beer, water or wine. My kind of dish, you know :)

Green beans with tomatoes and feta
(Rohelised oad Kreeka moodi)
Serves 3 to 4 as a side dish, or 2 as a main dish



400 - 450 g frozen green beans, trimmed
2 large (red) onions, chopped
2-3 Tbsp olive oil
400 g canned chopped tomatoes
water
1-2 tsp dried Greek oregano
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
fresh flat-leaf/Italian parsley, chopped

To serve:
about 100 g of Greek feta

(If using fresh beans, then trim them first, then boil in plenty of salted water for about 5 minutes. Discard the liquid).

Heat olive oil in a sauté pan. Add the onion and fry gently for about 5 minutes, until the onions start to soften. Don't burn them!

Add the tomatoes, the green beans and some water (I usually just fill the empty tomato tin with water). Season with salt, pepper and oregano. Bring to the boil, then reduce heat and simmer gently for about 20-25 minutes, until the beans are cooked and the tomato sauce thickened. Stir in the parsley.

Transfer the beans and tomato into a serving dish. Crumble some feta cheese on top.

Gigantes plaki aka Greek giant baked beans

Gigantes plaki (yigandes plaki, γίγαντες πλακί) is a popular Greek taverna dish, consisting of oven-baked fasolia gigante ("giant") beans with tomato sauce. Gigantes are occasionally also called elephant beans (elephantes) - which is the name reserved for extra large giant beans :) The gigantes are native to Greece, and the ones from Kastoria are especially prized, as well as the ones from Florina and Drama regions - all three have the PGI-designation or are recognised by the EU as products of Protected Geographical Indication.

If you're in Estonia, look out for Garrido gigantes (either canned or dried, offered by Kaupmees) or Palirria (large cans, offered by HellenicTrade - these are the ones I've been using). Elsewhere, look for the jumbo beans/elephant beans/gigantes at Greek and Middle Eastern markets.  Amazon.com sells Kastoria giant beans online, and there's also a canned variety available. You can use dried or canned cannellini or lima beans instead, but you'll need to adjust cooking times accordingly.

Serve as part of a mezedes spread, or spoon onto a slice of leavened white bread. I sometimes crumble some decent feta cheese on top at the end of the baking time :P

Giant baked beans, Greek style
A recipe from BBC Good Food (September 2009), slightly modified
Serves 8
 

400 g dried giant or butter beans or 3x400 g canned beans
3 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil (Greek, of course)
1 large onion, finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 Tbsp concentrated tomato paste/pureé
2x400 g cans crushed tomatoes
1 Tbsp honey
1 Tbsp dried oregano
couple of pinches of ground cinnamon
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

To garnish:
2 Tbsp finely chopped flat-leaf/Italian parsley

If using dried beans: soak the beans overnight in plenty of water. Drain, rinse, drain again. Place in a large pan covered with fresh water. Bring to the boil, reduce the heat, then simmer gently for 50-60 minutes, until the beans are tender but not too soft. Drain.

If using canned beans: tip the beans onto a large colander, rinse with cold water. Drain and put aside.

Heat the oven to 180C/350F.

Make the sauce: heat the olive oil in a large frying pan over moderately low heat. Add the onion and fry for about 7-8 minutes. Add the garlic and fry for another 2-3 minutes, until the onion is translucent.

Add the tomato puree, sauté for a minute. Add the rest of the ingredients (except the beans) and cook for 2-3 minutes. Season generously with honey, oregano, salt and pepper, then tip in the drained cooked beans.

Transfer the mixture into a large ovenproof dish - I love using my lasagne pan - and bake for approximately one hour. Don't cover and don't stir! The dish is ready when the tomato sauce has thickened and the beans are soft and flavoursome.

Remove from the oven, cool a little. Scatter the parsley on top and drizzle with some extra olive oil.



Similar recipes:
Gigantes sto Fourno @ Kalofagas
Greek style baked beans @ Souvlaki for the Soul
Gigantes in savory tomato sauce @ Mediterranean Cooking in Alaska
Twice-cooked gigante beans with garlic and feta @ Kalyn's Kitchen
Gigantes plaki (Greek baked beans) @ Closet Cooking
Gigantes plaki: Greek baked beans @ Choosy Beggars
Gigandes plaki by Simon Rimmer
Fasolia Gigantes Plaki: Big Greek Beans baked in a Bodacious Red Sauce @ Sortachef: One Hot Cat in a Woodfired Kitchen
Gigantes plaki @ Jono & Jules do Food & Wine
Gigantes plaki @ Life is Like a Dumpling
Greek baked beans (Gigantes plaki) @ the taste space – steam, bake, boil, shake!
Greek baked beans @ Eats Well with Others

Oven-baked zucchini and tomatoes with herbed feta cream

We've had a really good crop of courgettes/zucchini and tomatoes this year (our first year of backyard gardening, remember), and I'm trying and adapting different recipes. Here's a really simple dish showcasing both the zucchini and tomatoes, complemented by a herbed feta cream, giving it a Greek touch. Lovely as a vegetarian main dish, or as a side dish for some simple grilled meat (lamb, perhaps).

Oven-baked zucchini and tomatoes with herbed feta cream
(Suvikõrvitsa-tomativorm fetakreemiga)
Serves 4

2 green or yellow courgettes/zucchini
8 small ripe tomatoes
4-6 large garlic cloves
250 g feta cheese (softer feta-style cheese is fine here)
4 Tbsp extra-virgin olive oil + more for drizzling
2 Tbsp chopped fresh basil
1 tsp dried oregano
freshly ground black pepper
sea salt

Cut the zucchini into 1 cm (just under 1/2 inch) slices. Cut tomatoes into quarters. Peel the garlic cloves.
Take a large baking dish, oil it slightly. Layer zucchini slices and tomato quarters into the baking try, push garlic cloves between the vegetables.
Place feta cheese, olive oil, chopped basil and dried oregano into a medium-sized bowl and mash using a fork. Season with black pepper. Scatter the mixture over the vegetables.
Season with some more black pepper, drizzle with olive oil.
Bake in a preheated 200 C oven for about 45-60 minutes, until vegetables are cooked and cheese golden brown.

Wild garlic tzatziki aka Ramson tzatziki

I decided to give the ever-popular Greek condiment/salad, tzatziki, a seasonal makeover, using the wild garlic that grows just about 7 minutes from our house. I love the basic tzatziki - yogurt, fresh cucumber and finely chopped garlic. However, when trying to think of new ways of using my wild garlic bounty, it suddenly occured to me that it would make an excellent tzatziki. By simply substituting finely chopped wild garlic for garlic, you'll still get the garlic flavour, but with a twist and lots of extra colour.

Use as you would the regular tzatziki - for dipping, as a condiment or simply as one of the dishes on a spring-time Greek mezze platter. Healthy and really delicious!!!

Note that wild garlic = ramson = bear's garlic (Allium ursinum). If you live in Tallinn, you'll find bunches of wild garlic in all of the three markets (Keskturg, Balti jaama turg, Nõmme turg).

Wild garlic tzatziki
(Karulaugu tzatziki)
Serves 4



2 long or 6-8 short cucumbers
1 tsp salt
a large bunch of wild garlic
250 g plain (Greek) yogurt

Wash the cucumber and grate coarsely. Put on a colander, sprinkle with salt and let stand for 30 minutes.
Finely chop the wild garlic.
Mix wild garlic, drained cucumber and yogurt in a bowl, season with salt, if necessary.

You can vary the thickness of your tzatziki by using either a strained Greek yogurt (first photo) or ordinary plain yogurt (second photo).

Kourkouto aka Greek Zucchini Pie

There's a dish that made rounds in foodblogs last summer. The author of the original recipe was a Greek chef Dina Nikolaou. Her recipe was picked up and adapted by Peter of the Kalofagas, and the rest was history. I then spotted it on my dear friend's Alanna's blog, and earlier this year on Farida's blog. I bet there are many more :)

We had this for dinner tonight. I made some changes, leaving out the Kasseri cheese and upping the amount of feta cheese. I also added some dried oregano to the dish, a herb I always associate with my visits to Greece. Overall, this is an excellent supper dish - either with a light salad, as Peter recommends, or with flash-fried chicken strips, as we did. It's delicious both hot and cold, making it ideal for summer brunches and buffets.

Greek Courgette Pie Kourkouto
(Kreeka suvikõrvitsavorm)
Serves 6 to 8



100 ml olive oil
1 kg courgettes/zucchini (4-5 younger ones)
2 large onions
0.5 tsp salt
1 tsp dried oregano
6 large eggs
250 g plain yogurt
150 g plain/all-purpose flour
1 Tbsp baking powder
200 g feta cheese
a large handful of fresh parsley
salt and freshly ground black pepper

To garnish:
1 slender green courgette
mild paprika powder

Preheat the oven to 180 C / 350 F.
Peel and chop the onions. Cut the courgettes/zucchini into small cubes.
Heat oil in a heavy-bottomed saucepan, add zucchini and onion cubes. Season with salt and oregano and heat over a moderate heat for 15 minutes, until the vegetables are soft, but not mushy.
Meanwhile, whisk eggs with yogurt until combined. Stir in baking powder and flour, then add feta cubes.
Using a slotted spoon, transfer the cooked vegetables into the batter. Add parsley, and stir until combined.
Pour into a well-buttered or lined oven dish, sized 25x35 cm.
Slice the extra zucchini into 5-6 mm rounds, then place nicely on top of the dish. Sprinkle with paprika powder.
Bake in the middle of the preheated oven for about 30 minutes, until cooked through and nicely golden on top.

It's a wild thing: hortapita or a Greek pie with wild greens

On a gorgeous Sunday in early May K. and I walked along the paths of my - sorry, our - childhood summers. Literally. And during that walk, we packed a small linen bag with young ground elder leaves. You see, ever since buying the book on the culinary use of wild herbs & weeds few months ago, I've been discovering new edible wild plants galore. Eating dandelion greens is almost conservative now. I've turned dandelion blossoms into dark and sticky syrup, thrown milk thistle leaves into my salads, and yes, eaten enough wild garlic leaves to provide me with vitamins for months, and yes, even made a pie out of ground-elder. I can see that not everybody gets excited about stuff like that - even my 87-year old grandmother was a bit suspicious of me collecting these weeds for human consumption. But luckily K. is very supportive, and doesn't mind being fed one 'interesting' dish after another.

Ground-elder (Aegopodium podagraria, also known as bishop's weed and goutweed in English, naat in Estonian) has a long history of being used for medicinal purposes, but it was also cultivated as a food crop in the Middle Ages, especially in Russia (and in Siberia in particular - the Russian Saint Seraphim of Sarov is said to have survived three years on eating mainly ground-elder while on self-exposed exile in a deep forest), Scandinavia, in Central Europe. Old Finno-Ugric peoples were keen consumers of ground elder, too. According to some sources, old traders wrapped their vegetables into ground elder leaves to keep them fresh looking and smelling - the leaves are high in essential oils and helped to keep the other produce fresh and aromatic, too. Young and tender ground-elder leaves can be added to soups, omelettes and stews. Blanched leaves can be mixed with cottage cheese and curd cheese. The leaves are high on Vitamin E, as well as vitamin C, they're rich in antioxidants, minerals, flavonoids and fibre. Dishes containing ground elder are easily digestible, and have cleansing properties - so they're good for that spring-time detoxing :)


A hortapita in Portaria, June 2006

I decided to make hortapita with my ground elder leaves. The wise Greek village women, you see, have been using wild greens - horta - for culinary purposes forever. I enjoyed hortapita in a shady cafe in Portaria (see the photo above) during my 2006 trip to Greece. Its slightly more elegant and modern version - spanakopita - is one of my favourite pies. Using my ground elder bounty for a Greek hortapita seemed like the most logical thing to do. The Greek villagers would use lots of other wild and bitter leaves for making hortopita (and other dishes too, obviously, like salads etc). Amaranth (vlita in Greek, one of the most popular horta's - rebashein), sow thistle (tsochos / piimaohakas), stinging nettles (tsouknithes / kõrvenõges), mallow (molocha / kassinaeris), dandelion, purslane ( glistrida or andrakles / portulak), wild carrots, as well as more familiar chicory, sorrel, mustard greens, rocket, endives and others. Ground elder makes as good a pie filling as any of the others mentioned - just a little bit bitter, gutsy and earthy.

The pastry recipe is from my friend Virve, who uses it to make a fabulously easy apple pie. It's the easiest pastry to work with and it tastes wonderful - it's easy, soft and pliable dough that procudes a flaky and wonderful pastry. The filling is inspired by my spanakopita recipe.

Hortapita or a Greek-style pie with wild greens
(Naadipirukas)
Serves 8




Pastry:
200 grams butter
200 grams sour cream
350 grams plain flour
a pinch of salt

Filling:
3 Tbsp oil
200 grams young ground-elder leaves
100 grams onion, finely chopped
200 grams cottage cheese or feta cheese
1 egg
1 Tbsp dried oregano
salt and coarsely ground black pepper

First, prepare the pastry. Melt the butter on a medium heat, take off the heat and cool a little. Mix in sour cream, flour and salt. Knead until the pastry comes together - it'll be very soft and pliable, like plastiline. Wrap into cling film and put into the fridge for up to 30 minutes (leave it for much longer, and you'll have hard time rolling it!)
Meanwhile, prepare the filling. Wash the wild greens, dry thoroughly. Heat a non-stick frying pan and 'cook' the leaves until they 'wilt'. Then quickly rinse them under cold running water to stop them from cooking further. Press until dry, and chop the cooked leaves coarsely.
Heat the non-stick frying pan again, this time with oil on it. Add the onion and cook on a low heat for about 10 minutes, until onion starts to soften. Take off the heat.
Now add the other ingredients, mix thoroughly.
Roll the relaxed dough to a large rectangle about 4-5 mm thick, cut into 2 more or less equally sized rectangles. Place the smaller one on a medium-sized oven tray, spread the filling on top, and cover with the larger dough sheet. Pinch the edges firmly together, pierce with a fork couple of times and brush with whisked egg.
Bake at 200C for 25-30 minutes, until golden brown. Cool a little and cut into squares.

The Greek Easter Bread Tsoureki, 2007

Pretty, isn't it? It's the traditional Greek Easter bread tsoureki, using the little known spices mastic and mechlebe/mahlepi (you can see them both here) and usually garnished with red eggs*. I've made tsoureki before (twice, actually), to a great acclaim from a number of Greeks, and it has become a regular feature at my Easter table.

The recipe I've used on the previous occasions was an adapted from Paul Hollywood's book 100 Great Breads, and it (the adapted version, that is) worked just well. But as a kind friend had sent me a copy of Theodore Kyriakou's widely acclaimed book, The Real Greek at Home: Dishes from the Heart of the Greek Kitchen, then I decided to test another recipe for tsoureki instead this year. After all, Kyriakou is the Chef of the The Real Greek restaurant in London and hailed as the Greek chef and expert on the Hellenic cuisine in the UK. So his recipe should definitely please, no?

Well, it failed to do that. I should have got suspicious about the amount of spices. Whereas Hollywood used two pieces of mastic and a pinch of mahlepi per half a kilogram of flour, then Kyriakou used 3 pieces of mastic (that's fine), but a whopping 1.5 tsp of mahlepi - that's quite a difference from a pinch! This meant that these spices (plus the addition of star anise infusion) didn't just give a hint of musky spiciness to the bread, but utterly and totally hijacked the flavour, especially mahlepi. And whereas I love the subtle hint of mastic and mahlepi, then too much is simply too much. Also, Kyriakou's version asked for the inclusion of six whole eggs in the pastry, which may have explained the toughness of the resulting bread. Ok, I may have slightly over-kneaded the pastry, which explains why the bread looks a bit stretched on the photo above, but believe me, this was the least of the problems. It was just, blah, as some foodbloggers would say..

The moral of the story? Well, when something doesn't need fixing, then leave it alone. As simple as that.. Next year I'll try my old and trusted (that is, tested) recipe again :-)

The read egg on the photo was provided by the 5-year old Gretel. See here for more details.

Greek delights: eating peinirli in Volos

Imagine something that is very much like my mushroom pie, just a lot bigger and stuffed with cheese instead of mushrooms. Now heat it up, cut it half-open, so you've got a pocket. Fill it with French fries and your favourite ketchup or yogurt sauce. Got that?

Well done! You've just imagined a Greek fast-food called peinirli. It looks like this:


A peinirli from "Rainbow", Volos

Peinirli is what my friend Anna and I had for a snack in the port town Volos one afternoon just over half a year ago. Although the main reason for my Greek trip last June was a wedding on Santorini, I had arrived a few days in advance in order to visit my Edinburgh friend Anna and her young family. When I asked Anna to introduce me to something that is typical to this specific Greek town, she took me to a popular peinirli joint, Rainbow.

Peinirly derives from a Turkish word 'peynirli', meaning 'cheesy', and came to Greece in early last century with the refugees from Asia Minor. Peinirli always has a cheese filling (usually a mixture of kefalograviera and kasseri cheese), but only the sky is a limit. You can add bacon, eggs, ham, minced meat or anything else you fancy into a peinirli. Whereas usually peinirli is an open boat-shaped yeast pastry with a filling (see here), then the Volos version is closed a la calzone, baked and then filled with stuff to order (above). Quite interesting - not something you'd eat every day, but a perfect snack after promenading on the seaside.

If you're wondering how come I write about something so summery in the midst of January, then let me tell you. It's snowing so heavily outside at the moment, that I could hardly see where I was going when I returned from lunch an hour ago. I thought it's a perfect opportunity to blog about something so distant and different and out of my ordinary to bring some warmth and sunny memories to my day :)

Rainbow
Iasonos 135
Tel. 35557
Volos, Pelios

Vacation memories: Dining on Santorini

I've already praised the breakfasts with wonderful views that I had a pleasure of enjoying on Santorini. But it wasn't just the breakfast that was noteworthy, the food in general was great. There was the wedding feast, of course, but I also had tasty Greek food in small restaurants on the island. I wish I had been able to eat at Selene (above), as its menu, focusing on local ingredients and modern takes on traditional dishes ('Favaballs stuffed with caper and tomato' and 'Baked mackerel with caperleaves and tomato wrapped in crepe of fava' especially tempted by tastebuds), but I guess I must wait for my professorship first :)

Still, there was great food to be had on the island. Here are some of the pictures I took.


Santorini at night, June 2006

You've probably all heard of Horiatiki, or the so-called Greek salad that appears under various disguises across the world (do you use lettuce as in an American Greek salad or not? Green or black olives? Red or yellow onions? etc.) Santorini salad is quite similar to its 'Greek' mother, but it uses local tomatinas, Chloro cheese, local capers and lettuce leaves.

We ate this fava in a small restaurant at the centre of Fira. Not bad, not bad at all, but my yellow split pea 'fava' tasted nicer (yellow split peas, as opposed to fava beans, are the closest substitute for famous fava lentils of Santorini). I bough a packet of real fava lentils, so I'll give this 'fava' dish another go soon and decide which version I like most:)

This roasted aubergine/eggplant dip, melitzanosalata, was wonderfully thick and creamy, with a strong smoky flavour. A clear winner in my eyes.

The famous tomatokeftedes or meatless tomato balls of Santorini. I remembered these from my previous trip, and was pleased to find them at the wedding table. I had also ordered tomatokeftedes at the restaurant on the previous night, but I really loved these plump and juicy specimens at the wedding.

Freshly squeezed watermelon juice, anyone? A truly refreshing treat after a substantial meal. If you fancy making your own, then check out Stevi's instructions. And just like you can enjoy fabulous views on Santorni in the morning, you can do that in the evening - the night-time photo was taken while sipping this watermelon drink.

Eestikeelsed retseptid:
Santorini läätsepüree
Santorini tomatikotletid
Kreeka pommusalat

Cafés with a view: three breakfasts on Santorini

I will write soon about my three days in Volos, Greece, but here are some pictures from Santorini. I spent 3 days and 2 nights on the island, where my friends Annemieke (Scottish) & Georgios (Greek) got married in a beautiful ceremony on Saturday night. Three days on the island also meant three breakfasts with gorgeous views in the capital, Fira. Now - this being Santorini - the views are always gorgeous, especially if you're eating on the Caldera side of the island. However, you do pay a premium for those vistas. While I'm sure we could have had a breakfast for a fraction of the price on the other side of the town, we were actually happy to splash out a bit for a the visual privilege. It's not every morning that I can sip my frappé while watching cruise ships, ferries and yachts passing by below.

In the interest of research, I had a coffee (cappuccino freddo on day 1 as featured on my new profile photo, frappe on days 2&3) and yogurt with fruit & honey for every breakfast.

Day 1, Friday: Café del Mar e Sol



Best - though priciest - breakfast of the three. The yogurt was thick and creamy, accompanied by lots of fresh fruit and a generous drizzling of honey. Exactly what a girl needs after floating on the sea for 12 hours.
Frappe €4.50, Cappucino freddo €6.00, Ice tea €4.50 Yogurt with fruit & honey €9.00

Day 2, Saturday: Café Ocean


Most disappointing - if cheapest - of the bunch. The fruit salad had obviously been made in advance (or maybe it was me having a particularly late breakfast?), and the bananas had become all mushy. Nice sprinkling of nuts though.
Frappe €3, Yogurt with fruit & honey €6

Day 3, Sunday (morning after the Greek wedding party): Hotel Enigma Outdoor Café



Though the yogurt only came with apples and bananas, these were freshly chopped and the breakfast was a very good value for money, especially considering that the café is part of the pretty expensive Enigma Club entreprise.
Frappe €3.50, Yogurt with fruit & honey €6.50

Now. I'm still not sure which view did I like best. Which one would you choose?

Santorini fava or dreaming about summer, sun and sand

After 2 days in burningly hot Athens back in July 2002, I finally caught an overnight ferry from Piraeus to Santorini to spend almost a week on the island. Having been born and bred up in the North, I found the scorching 'n' bright Greek sun very difficult to deal with. But what can you do, life as an academic can be tough, and conferences need to be attended, papers need to be given :-)

To compensate, I relaxed on the beach in the evenings and familiarised myself with various delicacies on offer. And Santorini has many. The fertile volcanic soil grows wonderful aromatic tomatina or tiny cherry tomatoes which are renown for their distinct flavour. They often find their way into tomatokeftedes or meatless ‘meat balls’, made with tomatoes, herbs and butter and no meat. One can also find small white eggplants on the island, known as the apple of love. Santorini has also got some distinct desserts, among them koufeto – a spoonsweet prepared with honey-soaked almonds and is served at weddings, and melitinia cheese pies popular during Easter.

I must admit though, that I found it very difficult to eat anything in the scorching 40˚Celsius, and survived mainly on water and frappes during the day, and modest amounts of food in the evenings. Luckily, I will have another chance this summer to enjoy these culinary gems, as some Edinburgh friends are getting married on the island at the end of June. I will make an effort to chase down some Chloro fresh cheese and to sample some Santorinian wines. Meanwhile, I satisfy my craving for sun and sea with some fava spread. Fava is a puree made with special fava lentils native to the island. If you cannot get hold of them, then dried yellow split peas come closest, and I’ve used them for the recipe below. Note that Greek fava is distinct from a Turkish dish with a similar name. Whereas the Greek fava is often served lukewarm as a main dish or light meal, then the Turks prefer it cold as part of a meze table, and it is made of fava broad beans - and not lentils - there (I owe it to Tülin of the Domestic Cat for pointing this important difference out to me, she also provides recipe for the Turkish fava).

Santorini fava puré
(Santorini hernepüree)
Makes two bowlfuls



500 grams dried Santorini fava lentils or small yellow split peas
water
2 medium onions -quarter one, chop the other finely
125 ml extra virgin olive oil, preferably Greek
salt
crushed black pepper
a generous handful of finely chopped flat leaf parsley
one lemon

Rinse the split peas under running cold water, put into a large saucepan and cover with double the amount of fresh cold water. Bring slowly to the boil, removing any impurities and foam that occur.
Add the onion quarters, a pinch of salt and half of the olive oil. Simmer on a low heat for 40-60 minutes, until the peas have softened and become mushy.
Push the peas through a fine sieve or purée with a blender.
Add the rest of the olive oil, lemon juice, minced onion, chopped parsley and season to taste with salt and pepper. Stir and serve.
Fava is great as a small meal with some crusty bread, or as a dip for vegetables.

Nigella, again: fried halloumi with chilli drizzle

Halloumi cheese is something I had never tried until a year ago or so. This white cheese originates in Cyprus, is made from a mixture of goat's and cow's milk, and is seasoned with chopped mint during preparation (you can see a picture here). It has a very unique, slightly squidgy texture, and is one of few cheeses that keeps its shape during heating process, making it ideal for grilling and frying.

Firstly - and mistakenly - I tried it as a sliced cheese on my bread, but found it too squeeky and rubbery, with no proper taste. I then tried it as saganaki, and liked it a bit more. My current favourite way with halloumi is to simply dry-fry it on a frying pan. Heating halloumi slices turns them deliciously soft inside with just a bit of squidge going on. They are wonderful on slices of baguette, for instance. If I want something spicier, I make this simple cheese dish - again by Nigella, this time from the December 2003 issue of Waitrose Food Illustrated. Very slightly modified, as I didn't have any fresh chilli in the house.

Pan-fried Halloumi with Chilli
(Praetud halloumi-viilud)
Serves 4 as a nibble, or 2 as a light meal



250 grams halloumi cheese, sliced not too thinly
2 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil
1 tsp dried chilli flakes
half a lemon

Mix chilli flakes with oil.
Heat a non-stick frying pan on a medium heat (no oil!). Fry halloumi slices for 2 minutes on each side, until the cheese has golden brown speckles all over them.
To serve, put cheese onto small plates, drizzle with chilli oil and a squeeze of lemon juice.
Serve with some salad and bread.

Mail order tsoureki: kaló páscha

I celebrated Easter last weekend with paskha, the typical festive dessert back home in Estonia. This weekend I helped a Greek friend in need to celebrate Orthodox Easter. On this occasion the Greeks eat a special sweet bread - tsoureki. I baked a rather nice one in Edinburgh last year, devoured in minutes by a bunch of Greek students, and consequently got a mail order request to make one again for this Easter. The large and beautifully aromatic tsoureki was flown to an undisclosed destination in mainland Europe. Thank you, C.D,. for acting as a courier on such a short notice!

The recipe is based on two Paul Hollywood's recipes - one from his book 100 Great Breads and another from UKTV Food. I keep having problems with Hollywood's recipes and I'm not sure they have been double-checked properly by the pastry chef himself. His recipe for mint & halloumi bread seemed also a bit awkward, though the bread I ended up baking was delicious. His two tsoureki recipes are even more confusing. The only constant seems to be the amount of flour (500 grams) - the amount and list of other ingredients vary rather wildly. Hollywood cannot really decide whether he wants 2 eggs in his tsoureki or none, whether to use 30 grams of dried yeast (!!!) or 15 grams of fresh (it should be other way around, surely!?). And adding 15 grams of salt to 500 grams of flour seems also a wee bit too generous. I want my guests to come back for more, so I've tweaked the recipes accordingly.

For example, I've omitted the raisins altogether, as according to my Greek sources there should be none in a tsoureki (raisins may be a Cypriot twist). I've reduced the amount of salt and butter. I didn't use the red eggs that are traditionally used to decorate tsoureki - although this is strictly necessary only if you eat the tsoureki on the Easter Sunday. This time I also managed to get hold of mastic and mechlebe - two new spices in my kitchen. Although I don't know how to describe them, they did give a very pleasant and unusual flavour to the end product. You should be able to find them from health food shops or shops specialising in Greek and Middle Eastern produce.

But definitely one beautiful sweet bread.

Greek Easter bread TSOUREKI
(Kreeka lihavõttesai "tsoureki")
Makes one large plaited loaf



500 grams strong white flour
75 grams golden caster sugar
50 grams softened butter
1 large orange, zested
0.5 tsp salt
a pinch of mechlebe (sour cherry pits - about 10), pounded finely
a pinch of gum mastic (ca 2 pieces), pounded finely
a generous pinch of ground cinnamon
1 egg
25 grams fresh yeast
150 ml lukewarm water
150 ml lukewarm milk

For brushing:
1 egg, beaten

Mix the flour, sugar, salt, orange zest, cinnamon, gum mastic and mechlepi and soft butter in a large bowl. Crumble the butter into the dry ingredients.
Mix the fresh yeast with a small amount of lukewarm water until combined, add to the dough.
Add the egg, lukewarm milk and water and mix everything together with your hands.
Dip the dough onto a floured surface and knead for 5 minutes, until the dough doesn't stick to your hands anymore (you may have to add some more flour).
Put the kneaded dough back into the bowl, sprinkle with some flour and cover with a clean kitchen towel.
Leave to rise for one hour in a warm place, until the dough has doubled in size.
[Or, if you insist, leave to rise at room temperature, go for a cocktail with friends at Dragonfly @ Grassmarket and then for a meal at Hanam's, a new Kurdish & Middle Eastern restaurant @ Tollcross. Return 4 hours later and continue].
Knock the dough down and dip onto a slightly floured surface again and divide into three. Roll each dough piece into a long strip and plait the strips together. Lift onto a large baking sheet and leave to rise for an hour, until doubled in size again.
Brush with beaten egg and bake in the middle of 200˚C oven for 25-30 minutes, until tsoureki is nice and golden brown.

A feast for friends

My dear Greek friend Anna was in Edinburgh last weekend for her PhD viva, which she passed with ease. On Friday night we went out for drinks. But to properly celebrate this long-awaited occasion (Anna had taken some time off to give birth to a gorgeous baby son), I cooked a meal for six* last Saturday. The feast was Greek(ish). Not that Anna doesn't get to eat delicious Greek food back in Athens, but it was a good opportunity for me to try out some old and new recipes of one of my current favourite cuisines.

On the table were:
Potatoes with lemon and garlic (Kreeka sidrunikartulid) - simply boiled potatoes, tossed with olive oil, chopped garlic, salt and lemon juice at the end.

Feta and spinach mini omelettes (Feta-spinati miniomletid) that I have made couple of times before and went down a storm.

Roasted mushrooms (Täidetud seenekübarad), this time stuffed with some Welsh goat cheese, grated parmesan and chopped parsley.

Black Greek kalamata olives with garlic and herbs







In addition to the above, I cooked two new dishes, both from Tessa Kiros' beautiful book Falling Cloudberries: A World of Family Recipes. The first recipe was a Greek fish dish, the other Cypriot cracked wheat dish.

Oven-baked fish with tomato and parsley
(Kreeka kalavormi retsept)
Serves 4-6

1 kg white fish fillets (I used haddock), cut into 5-6 cm pieces
400 grams chopped tomatoes with juice
a generous handful of chopped flat-leaf parsley
4 large garlic cloves, finely chopped
juice of 2 lemons
2 celery stalks, chopped with some leaves
1 tsp sugar
3 Tbsp olive oil
salt and crushed black pepper

Put fish fillets into a large oven dish in a single layer. Sprinkle with Maldon salt flakes and crushed black pepper.

Mix tomatoes, parsley, garlic, lemon juice, celery, sugar and olive oil. Season to taste and spoon over the fish fillets to cover completely.


Cover with foil and cook for 30 minutes at 180˚C.
Remove the foil, increase the heat to 200˚C and cook for another 40-50 minutes, or until the liquid has thickened and the top of the fish is golden in a couple of places. (To be honest, I cooked it for 30 minutes under the foil and then just another 15 minutes more. I would have preferred the liquid slightly more thick, but the fish was beautifully cooked and according to my friend Anna, Greek sauces would always be a bit soupy rather than sticky). The taste was perfect, it felt (and probably was) very light and flavoursome.

Serve with a crusty bread to mop up the juices. According to the author, "this dish is great served either hot or cold, even straight from the fridge".

Purkouri - Cracked Wheat
(Küprose bulgurisalat)

This is from the "Cyprus" chapter of the book, and probably Turkish in origin, as it reminds me a lot of a dish, kisir, that my former Turkish flatmate Fatosh prepared regularly. Tessa Kiros writes that "This is good as part of a vegetarian meal, or instead of rice or potatoes with something like a simple grilled chicken breast."

Serves 4-6 as a side dish.



4 Tbsp olive oil
1 red onion, finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
200 grams chopped tomatoes (I used 400 grams)
265 grams bulgur/cracked wheat (I used medium)
1 tsp paprika powder
750 ml boiling water
salt & pepper

Heat the oil in a heavy saucepan, sauté onion until soft. Add the garlic, sauté for a minute or two before adding the tomatoes. Heat until tomatoes are bubblying.
Add the cracked wheat, season with salt and pepper and mix through.
Add the paprika and boiling water. Bring to the boil, reduce the heat, half-cover the saucepan with a lid and simmer for 10 minutes. Gently stir every now and then.
Take the saucepan off the heat, cover with a clean teatowel and the lid. Let it steam off for 10 minutes or so.
Fluff up. Serve warm or room temperature with a dollop of yogurt, if wished. (I omitted the yogurt and added a generous sprinkling of parsley).

* It was a mixed bunch: nationalities present were Greek (1), Turkish (1), Korean (2), South African (1), Estonian (1) - just as colourful as the food:)

Spanakopita, my way

Photo updated in June 2010.

Somewhere in Toronto lives a lovely Canadian Estonian woman, Liisa. Every now and then Liisa and her husband John (an American Estonian) take their 4 children and move to Estonia for a while, where I've had couple of chances to meet up with her - we belong to the same student organisation, which is how we met. Many years ago Liisa served us a very yummy feta spinach pie at one gathering, where it was a huge success. Many asked for the recipe, but I was the only one to get one. I don't know whether it was because Liisa's middle name is Pille, or whether she could see that I really really wanted the recipe much more than others:).

Just like I've remained loyal to my first apple cake recipe, I'm loyal to my first feta spinach pie recipe. I've changed it a bit over the years (omitting the milk from the filling, using fresh spinach instead of frozen and using less puff pastry), so it's not strictly Liisa's feta spinach pie any more. But I still owe her a huge thank you for sharing her recipe all those years ago.

As most of you know, a proper Greek spanakopita is made with filo pastry. I admit, all in shame, that I have never cooked with filo pastry in my life. I did once buy a packet, but I have no idea what happened to it (the joys of living in shared university residences?) Also, more often than not, I use one of those tetra pack feta-type or fetaki cheese and not 'proper feta cheese'. So it's a cheat's spanakopita throughout. But many Greek friends have announced that this spanakopita - spanakopita a la Pille - tastes just as good, if not better, than their mothers. Or even grandmothers. And that's a creme de la creme compliment from any Greek person..

Spanakopita á la Pille
(Liisa spinati-fetapirukas)
Serves 10-12

500 grams of puff pastry

200-225 grams fresh (young) spinach leaves
olive oil
1 large onion, chopped
500 grams feta or fetaki cheese
a generous Tbsp of dried Greek oregano
1 egg

Wash the spinach leaves, removing any large stalks. Drain slightly, put into a large frying pan and heat until the spinach has wilted. Quickly refresh under a cold running water (see the banner). Press dry, chop roughly.

Heat the olive oil on the pan, add the onion and fry gently for 5-10 minutes. Add chopped spinach and feta cheese. Stir, until the mixture is even. Season with oregano. Let cool a little, then add the egg.

Roll out the puff pastry, cover with the feta spinach filling and roll up into a large fat sausage. Criss-cross slightly with a knife to make a nice pattern, brush with egg and sprinkle with Maldon sea salt flakes and/or dried oregano.

Bake in the middle of a 200˚C oven for about 30-45 minutes, until the pastry is nicely golden brown (dark rather than light, to be sure that it's properly baked throughout).



I find this makes a perfect dish for a buffet table (when cold, it can be cut into small slices quite easily). It's great as a snack. Very very good as a late night nibble. Goes down well for breakfast. Universally delicious..

And I am yet to meet a Greek person who:
A) doesn't help himself/herself for a 2nd or 3rd or even further slice;
B) points out that this is not like the spanakopita their grandmother or mother makes (alias questions the authenticity of my version despite of this obviously being a rather non-authentic version; I consider this quite a compliment!);
C) doesn't ask me if this is on the table when they're invited around (read: are suggesting that they wouldn't really mind having some of my spanakopita).

If you fancy some feta and spinach, but don't feel like baking a whole pie just now, then you can always try these lovely mini spinach & feta frittatas/omelettes.