Jeff—Saturday
No, this isn’t a political post, though I’m the first to
admit that no matter whether it’s the nation or bird, mention Turkey/turkey and
Greece/grease immediately come to mind.
Today, though, it’s all about recipes. Great recipes
straight “from the old country.” That’s not to say I have anything against the
magnificent variations on heritage Greek cooking that today has Greek cuisine featured
at some of America’s finest restaurants, and I defy you to find a diner
anywhere in the U.S. not connected somehow to a Greek.
Still, in keeping with the traditional nature of
Thanksgiving, I thought I’d take the opportunity to reprise some old time
recipes you might just want to try now that turkey is a thing of the past—at
least until Christmas. As a bonus,
though, I am including a very tasty Greek-style turkey, complete with stuffing,
graciously contributed by public relations guru extraordinaire, Renee Pappas.
But first, a few of those traditional Greek dishes.
Who ever thinks of Greek food without “octopus” latching on
to your thoughts? To my way of thinking
the best anywhere is found at New York City’s Periyali, and if you somehow get
a hold of The
Periyali Cookbook you’ll find some of the best Greek recipes
anywhere. Its signature octopus dish
takes up five pages in the cookbook and three days to make! But it’s worth it.
And while on the subject of worth it, the cookbook’s “Victor
Gouras’s Sautéed Breast of Chicken with Lemon Sauce,” is my favorite chicken
dish on earth. I often watched Victor
prepare it in his culinary-paradigm changing Patmian House restaurant on the
Dodecanese Island of Patmos but his final cooking stage called for grilling the
chicken in a panini-type waffle iron, not in the skillet called for by the
recipe. But let’s just keep that little
secret between us chickoholics.
But I digress (to digest?).
Back to the octopus. For those of
you looking for a simpler way to prepare it than recommended by Periyali, let’s
start with the basic premise of all dealings with octopus: First and foremost
tenderize. Unless of course you’re
searching for a mandibular workout.
Some say that if you start with frozen octopus the freezing
process has already tenderized it. I
don’t buy that, even though I do buy frozen octopus. I tenderize both fresh and frozen octopi,
though not in the same way.
The classic method for dealing with fresh is pounding the
octopus one hundred times against a stone—definitely not recommended for the still
frozen sort—and it’s the only method I use for those I catch in the sea.
If you don’t happen to have a slab of granite in your
kitchen or nearby, but still want to experience the slam-bam method, perhaps
you might try using a sidewalk or an edge of a street in your neighborhood.
Just be careful not to get yourself tenderized in the process by a passing
motorist or charging PETA demonstrators.
By the way, this method has a critical final step. After the pounding is
done, you must vigorously rub the octopus against the stone in seawater for
five minutes or so, forming a froth as you merrily rub-a-dub-dub.
Okay, there’s a more practical approach to the tenderizing
process, it’s one passed on to me many years ago by my buddy Panos Kelaidis’ mom.
Put the octopus and one full wine glass (“Greek size” she
said) of red wine or vinegar into a pot, cover with a tight lid, and simmer for
a minimum of two hours until a fork goes through it easily (octopus releases
it’s own fluid as it cooks—or at least it’s supposed to). Remove the tentacles
close to the head and grill them over a medium-hot charcoal grill or under a
broiler for about four minutes. Or sauté
them in olive oil and whatever herbs you choose. Once cooked, add olive oil and lemon to
taste, plus pepper and a “bit” of the red wine (or vinegar) used to tenderize.
And yes, I know there are a lot of other ways to do this, but you Yiannis-come-lately
lost your chance to suggest your mommy’s favorite.
By the way, just in case you haven’t noticed by now,
traditional Greek cooking follows the “by feel” rather than precise measurement
approach—like the country’s accounting methods. (I know, I promised none of
that. Sorry.).
Not to be outdone by his mom, Panos contributed his own
simple recipe for a staple of Greek traditional fare, oven roasted lemon potatoes:
Small round ones work best.
Soak potatoes in a mixture of salt, two cups of water, and two cups of lemon
juice for two hours. Drain the potatoes, and toss them in a mixture of one-half
cup olive oil, fresh cut-up garlic, and oregano. Line the bottom of a roasting pan with one
row of potatoes, bake for one-hour and forty minutes at 375 degrees, and finish
off with twenty minutes under a broiler to crisp them up nicely.
A nice accompaniment to the octopus and potatoes is this
easy to make recipe for tzatziki I
plucked from Roz Apostolou at the Hotel Mykonos Adonis, my home on Mykonos:
Peel, grate, and strain one large or two small cucumbers,
and allow them to sit in a strainer for at least one-half hour. Place the thoroughly strained cucumber on a
tea towel and wring out most of the moisture.
To two cups of yogurt (you can use light but it really isn’t
as good), add
The wrung-out cucumber,
One-quarter cup finely chopped dill,
Two to three cloves of crushed or grated garlic (adjust to
taste and/or anticipated up-close and personal encounters),
Three tablespoons of olive oil, and
Salt (again to taste).
Mix it all together and voila! Or rather opa!
Okay it’s time for the turkey. But I need a drink first, and
here’s a “brandy margarita” sort of drink from bar maestros, Nikos
Christodoulakis and Jody Duncan, proprietors of Mykonos’ legendary Montparnasse
Piano Bar (now sadly closed).
It’s their “Side by Side by Sidecar”:
Two ounces Wild Turkey 101 Proof Bourbon (if you’ve hit the
lottery you can use Mount Vernon Estate rye at $85/pint or Buffalo Trace)
Three-quarter ounces Cointreau
One ounce slightly sweetened lemon juice
Put ice in a cocktail shaker and add all of the above
ingredients. Shake the hell out of it, and strain into a chilled Mae West type
champagne glass rimmed with superfine bar sugar. Garnish with a lemon twist.
Ahh, on to the Turkey…the floor’s all yours, Renee.
First, Renee Pappas’ twist on the traditional Greek stuffing/dressing recipe.
Soak overnight about 3 cups of currants (not raisins) in
enough Madeira or Mavrodaphne wine to cover them. Sauté one finely chopped medium onion, add in
two pounds of ground meat and once it’s browned add in the currants and
wine. Continue sautéing until the wine is absorbed, adding one teaspoon salt,
one-half teaspoon allspice, and one-quarter teaspoon pepper. To the sauté, stir
in two cups of prepared chestnuts cut up by hand, together with two cups of
chopped walnuts and one cup of pine-nuts, and continuing sautéing all the
ingredients together for about ten minutes.
In these days of food safety concerns the dressing doesn’t cook
inside the turkey, but rather is served separately. So, stuff the turkey’s cavity
with oranges and lemons cut into quarters.
Prepare a basting broth for the turkey by combining its neck,
heart and liver with a few sprigs of parsley, sage, an onion stuck with
cloves, two Knorr chicken bullion cubes and a carrot in eight cups of
water. Allow it all to simmer for about
an hour. Strain the liquid, throw away
the innards and vegetables, and add to the basting broth one-half of the bottle
of wine used in preparing the dressing (assuming you haven’t been drinking it
just to keep up with all this).
Now on to the bird…
To ready the turkey for the oven, massage it all over with melted
butter and put it breast down (very important) in a deep pan lined in aluminum
foil. Wrap the wings and ends of the legs in foil and place it in a pre-heated
350-degree oven. Baste the bird every
fifteen minutes. Once the bird's back turns golden, turn it over and roast
until the breast is golden brown, remembering to keep basting (every fifteen
minutes) with the broth and melted butter.
It should take about twenty minutes per pound to cook.
Once cooked, remove the turkey from the oven and place it on
a large cutting board. Strain the basting liquid into a saucepan. Throw away
the oranges, lemons and "gunk" and put the turkey back into the pan, tightly
covered with aluminum foil, and allow it to “rest” at least a half hour before
carving.
Add the rest of the wine to the basting broth and cook it
down, adding a paste made of cornstarch and wine, to thicken it into gravy.
Enjoy.
—Jeff
.
