Postcards from Greece #2

Making Skordalia

I was once told that skordalia, a garlic potato paste, was conceived in Greece as a way to disguise the smell of cheap fish.  That may have been true, but today Greeks -- and some foreigners -- have developed a love of the stuff -- with or without fish.  It is now served with fried eggplant, cooked beets, and fried zucchini as well as fish dishes.  In my third cooking lesson with my neighbor Eleni, I discovered that skordalia is pretty easy to make.

You start with a potato puree (I think in the U.S. this would be instant mashed potatoes).  You moisten the mix with hot water until you have a paste.  You add salt, a drop of vinegar, and some olive oil, and then as much minced fresh garlic as you like.  We put a lot of garlic in my first preparation of skordalia because I adore garlic.  I went around all day with the inside of my mouth tasting like a garlic bulb.  Not too pleasant.  I'd recommend only a small amount of garlic for beginners.

Fish and Visitors

Speaking of fish, I remember an old expression that visitors, like fish, should stay in the house for only three days.  I have recently had two sets of wonderful visitors, and I learned that for me the three-day limit is just about right.  I loved showing my guests around my island, swimming at different beaches, and eating out at my favorite restaurants.  I loved having company for breakfast coffee, evening cocktails, and drives up and down my hill to the sea.

What I learned, however, is that I am an obsessively work-oriented person.  Right now I'm working on a new novel.  After three days of relaxation, I begin to get edgy.  I feel the need to be productive.  I want something to show for myself at the end of the day.  Thus, saying good-bye to my visitors meant taking up again with my computer.  Now my Dell may not be quite as interesting as my American friends from Turkey or my Greek teacher from Athens, but Dell does hang on my every word -- and that means a lot.

My God-Daughter Comes Home

Many of you know that I have a Greek god-daughter, Katerina, who comes from this island of Lesbos and whose birth I witnessed in Mytilini many years ago.  Some of you may have read my memoir about our relationship over the past 26 years (NONA: A DIFFERENT KIND OF MOTHERHOOD, 2007, available from online bookstores).  So, when Katerina, who has been living in Amsterdam for the past two years, came back to the village a couple of days ago for her summer vacation, it was, in some ways, like revisiting the past.

Of course, we had a lot of present-day news to exchange -- studies, jobs, boyfriend, family gossip, life in Amsterdam and California.  Underlying all the excitement of reconnecting are memories of times from village life going back 25, 20, 15 and 5 years.  I've been asking myself how that makes me feel, and I've discovered that while I feel nostalgia for the past, I have absolutely no desire to return to it.  Katerina today is a fascinating, endearing and ever-changing adult.  She is like a strand of pearls that becomes more and more beautiful over time, as age makes the pearls' color and lustre deepen into something of greater value.