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May-June 2008
"To feta aficionados there is no comparison between artisanal, barrel-aged feta and the tinned feta produced in huge automated factories all over the Balkans. Wood breathes, and the barrel can't be hermetically sealed, so the skill of the cheese master determines the quality of the final product." — Diane Kochilas, "The Glorious Foods of Greece"
For those of you who've been shopping, eating or working around here for a long time now, I should just tell you up front — I'm on one of my campaigns again. I seem to get on one every couple years. Usually my push is prompted by a passion for a food that I think, at its best, is really great, but is so misrepresented or so misunderstood by the marketplace that most folks out there are unknowingly missing out on something really special. Usually, it's a food that I think is also really accessible, something everyone who likes to eat good food can and will enjoy, but one that's been dissed and dismissed so much so that few people ever get to try it in its prime state. Right now, it's good feta that's found its way to the front of my mind. And my cooking. And the campaign is under way.
Thinking back, I've had these campaigns come up around darker crusts on bread — they taste way, way better even though the average American consumer is likely to think they've ("they," the customer, and the bread itself) been burned. It's happened too with getting the word about really wild wild rice (since 90% of what's sold in the market isn't really wild any more and doesn't taste very good either) and for country ham (it's on par with all the great cured hams of Europe and is great eaten "raw" like prosciutto but hardly anyone here knows it!) Oh yeah, I've campaigned heavily for grits and I think, in Ann Arbor at least, we're winning the world over to the power of great grits.
So this spring, I'm starting my official Campaign for Betta Feta. I'm going after it from three angles: (click each to read more...)
1) Good feta is one of the best cheeses — bar none — in the world!
2) There are radical differences between one brand of feta and the next!
3) Great feta ought to be an everyday eating experience that goes way beyond salad!
Back to Feta Basics
I suppose that there's some personal attachment that comes into play here — an early positive bonding experience with feta in my formative food years. My first really strong memory of eating it was on my initial visit to Greece nearly thirty years ago. I was probably twenty-one at the time. I had no clue back then that I'd end up working with food, and I certainly didn't have any particular passion for it. I was a student traveling on my spring break. Started in Istanbul, rode the Magic Bus (yeah, the one from The Who song) into Greece to Salonika and then down to Athens. From there I took a boat to the island of Santorini and then on to Crete. I remember it being a really hot, really bright, really dry and kind of dusty day. Can't recall for sure which town I was in but I'm pretty sure it was Mirtos, about ten miles or so west of the much bigger city of Ierapetra.
Whatever the town, I totally remember wandering into a small shop, buying a few hundred grams each of feta and Kalamata olives along with a loaf of crusty bread, then heading over to a small café where I got something to drink. I remember being surprised that they let me eat food I'd bought elsewhere while sitting at their table but... they did. I sat out in the sun, taking pieces of cheese and olives out of the plastic bags they'd put them in at the shop, pushing the feta into chunks of the bread I'd torn off and enjoying the whole thing. The truth is that's still a great recipe for a fine meal today — good feta, good olives, good bread, good sun. I'll take that one for lunch most any day.
Calling up the Campaign
If we were looking for a prestigious person to put out front of this thing, I guess the campaign could rightfully be led by any number of different candidates with ties to Greece. Could be Zeus, the King of the Gods. Or possibly it should be Poseidon-feta's cured in salty brine that basically replicates seawater. Might be nice to defer to Demeter, goddess of agriculture for obvious reasons — this is artisanal food that comes from the countryside. Another option might be Aristaios, Apollo's son. Greek mythology has it that was sent to Earth to teach men the art of cheesemaking so, in truth, he'd probably be the ideal option if we wanted to work with a deity. Thinking about more modern times, the campaign could be headed up by General Demetrius Ypsilanti — he was a leading figure in the Greek revolution two centuries ago, and, given that we named a town here after him, he's sort of local, and it would be way more organic to let him lead the way from the east by marching up the middle of Washtenaw into town. (If you want to get an idea of what he looked like, there are busts of him over by the water tower in Ypsi, or also in Athens, where he's a well-known war hero.) Of course, it could be a modern day intellectual — Diane Kochilas who's one of the best writers on Greek food I know (her books are highly recommended!) would certainly state the case clearly and coherently with well researched work and a lot of good recipes to back it up. A good grassroots option might be Daphne Zepos, a long-standing friend, a Greek, one of the country's best advocates for all artisan cheese, and a person of great passion and eloquence in all she undertakes. Or maybe I should go to the source and ask a cheesemaker, which in this case would mean nominating Vassilis Roussas who makes the artisan feta I'm so high on. I guess since I'm making up the committee and they don't really have to do any actual work, I'll just put all these good folks on the Campaign's Board of Directors. Diversity is a good thing, right?
Regardless of who's out front on this thing, my feta song remains the same. The point is really that feta is woven through the fabric of everything Greek and has been for centuries — and I'd like to make it that way here too. There's really no part of Greek life it's not included in. Everyone — rich or poor, urban or rural, gourmand or just getting going, young or old, they all eat it. Think rice in Asia, green chile in New Mexico or bread in France. While people can certainly live without it if they had to, the truth is they don't. It's on the table, in one form or another all the time. And, even if they don't choose to pursue the best feta as actively as I do, they all know that there's better feta out there to be had. Feta is a great cheese, and the more help I can get spreading the word the better!
Join the Campaign
So... there you have it. The Campaign for Betta Feta — don't delay. We've got plenty of Vassilis' barrel-aged feta on hand at the Deli and at the Creamery shop waiting for you to use in any of these ways and then some. When the sun's out you can recreate my meal in Mirtos — the scenery won't be the same, but a bit of good feta, some handpicked Kalamata olives, a loaf of good crusty white bread from the Bakehouse and a seat in the sun and you'll be eating one of the best, simplest, enjoyable lunches around.
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More Great Greek Foods!
Moleon Olive Oil from Greece
A wonderful Greek oil that's only recently arrived in the US, Moleon comes to us courtesy of George Courmouzis and Ann Turner. George is Greek, Ann is American; they've been married for many years and actually lived here in Ann Arbor together when they attended graduate school at U of M, then moved to Greece where they've lived ever since. While neither has made their formal career in food (until now!), both are passionate about it. They decided that they were going to find an outstanding olive oil that they could get to the US so that food lovers here could have the same great olive oil eating experiences they've had. The oil they tracked down is from a small co-op in the tiny town of Molai, about forty miles south of Sparta, in the region of Lakonia. The oil is really impressively flavorful. It's made from Koroneiki olives grown without use of pesticides or chemical fertilizers and hand picked to protect quality. It's pressed within a day of the olives leaving the trees.
We actually have two versions. The early harvest Moleon oil was pressed in early December. Unfiltered, it's got a big green flavor that hints of wild herbs and freshly cut green grass. It's ideal for people (like me) who like their oils greener, pungent, more peppery. It's great on slices of just-toasted Farm bread from Zingerman's Bakehosue. It's ideal for marinating good feta. Use it on salads for full flavored bitter greens. And it's outstanding for brushing onto roasted lamb, potatoes or pork.
The "regular" Moleon oil was harvested in the weeks after the new year. Because the village is about 1400 feet up, the cool climate means that olives ripen late. This later harvest oil is equally delicious, still very flavorful but mellower, both buttery and green and grassy at the same time (a combination rarely found in one oil) with a great, big finish. Retasting it today reminded me a bit of green grapes, something that I started to self-edit out because it's not a flavor one usually associates with olive oil but... what the heck, that's what it reminded me of. In any case, it's really good for brushing onto broiled or grilled fish, greens (cooked or fresh), vegetables of all sort, grilled squid or octopus.
Ask for a taste next time you're in. It's a darned good oil coming back to us through an Ann Arbor connection!
Morea Sweet Red Wine Vinegar from Greece
This has become one of my favorite sweet vinegars in recent years. It's often billed as a "Greek Balsamic" which it isn't. What it is, on the other hand, is very good stuff in its own right. It's made in the Peloponnese region of Greece from sweet Korinthiaki and Moschofilero grapes. The fresh must is aged in oak barrels for a solid six months. I like it a lot on Greek salads, but that's really just the beginning. It's totally fantastic sprinkled atop lightly floured and fried calves' liver. It's a great addition to tomato soups. Try it too for making roasted fruit — most any fresh fruit will be good. Toss the fruit with the vinegar, then oven roast at about 450°F until the fruit is soft and slightly caramelized on the outside.
Greek Olives
Olives are an essential element of Greek life, past and present; they play a prominent role in everything from ancient Greek myths to modern economics. Zeus promised to name the city of Athens for the god or goddess who gave the most useful gift to humankind. The city's name is pretty much a dead giveaway. Athena won the competition by contributing the olive tree. Her competitor, Poseidon, gave a great gift of his own, the horse, and Aristaios, son of Apollo, taught the art of pressing olives.
Walk the market in any Greek town today: there are mounds of olives of all sorts, piled high in barrels, baskets, and buckets. A "small selection" is usually half a dozen varieties. In the bustling market of central Athens, most olive stalls offer upwards of twenty types. Check out Diane Kochilas' The Glorious Foods of Greece which has all sort of nice recipes. One that caught my eye was a simple salad of steamed cauliflower, tinned tuna (I'd recommend the very good yellowfin we get in glass jars from the Ortiz family in the Spanish Basque country), along with olives, dressed with the above-mentioned Moleon olive oil and the great red wine vinegar from Morea.
Kalamatas from a single estates
The best known Greek olives, Kalamatas come from the valley of Messina on the western end of the Peloponnesian peninsula, near the town of Kalamata. They have a distinctive, pointed almond shape and a beautiful black-purple color. The flavor of Kalamatas is made more distinctive than most because of their curing — cracked and then cured in a red wine vinegar brine that gives them an almost wine-like flavor. The best Kalamatas are hand-picked. There's a night and day difference between the silky smooth, rich texture of the best hand-picked product and the barrels full of inexpensive, slightly bitter, oft-bruised Kalamatas that are commonly available in every "deli."
Thasos
I think these have become my favorite Greek olive in the last few years. Also known as Throumbes, these shriveled olives come from the island of Thasos. These are "cured" on the tree by simply leaving them to shrivel on the branch. They're picked late in the fall when the sap starts to flow. Their intense flavors aren't for everyone but I like ‘em a lot. They have a nice meaty texture and an intensely olivey flavor. Very, very good with rabbit dishes. Try them dressed with a little olive oil and oregano. Better still, take Diane Kochilas' recommendation and do them on wooden skewers on the grill them for a few minutes on each side.
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