At the Table: Food and Family around the World - Ken Albala (2016)

Greece

Nafsika Papacharalampous

A GREEK SUNDAY LUNCH

As Nafsika enters the airy Athenian kitchen, Katerina is taking a glass jar from the cupboard. “You’re just in time,” she says, opening the oven to remove the tray with the meatloaf, slightly brown on its edges, aromas filling the bright kitchen. “I’m about to put the orzo in the tomato sauce, which means we will be having lunch in 20 minutes,” she says, opening the jar. Every Sunday Katerina cooks for the family. She also cooks every day, but Sundays are more special. She usually prepares one of her old recipes that take longer to make, more often than not some kind of meat baked in the oven. It is the one day of the week when the whole family not only eats together but comes together and spends time before and after the meal.

For the Greek family, gathering around the table on Sunday is an unvarying ritual that brings everyone together, often extending beyond the family itself and including other relatives or friends. For these Sunday lunches Katerina spends around two hours in the kitchen, preparing the food and cleaning up the utensils and bowls she uses. After the end of the meal it is Xenofon, her husband, who puts the dishes in the dishwasher, a division of labor that this family upholds, although still in Greece the kitchen is more of a female space.

Katerina explains how she prepares the rolo, the Greek version of the meatloaf, as she and Nafsika both sit on wooden stools in the kitchen. Nafsika is offered coffee. In the living room Xenofon is drinking some ouzo accompanied by a few olives and bread, a regular prelunch Sunday ritual for him.

The dishes cooked on Sundays are labor-intensive, and most important, despite the proliferation of convenience foods, these meals are all prepared from scratch, illuminating the sense of duty, pride, and care in the role of Greek women within the household. But while allergies and other health issues are always respected and food preferences are often taken into account by the cook, that is not always the case, especially when it comes to children: they are encouraged and often obliged to learn to eat everything. This can be challenging if you are a teenager who hates grilled fish but had to eat it on a regular basis for Sunday lunch because nothing else was prepared. Yet as children are compelled to taste everything, they often grow up with a natural curiosity for foods that seem appalling at first, which makes the method somewhat successful.

Albala

Caterina serves Rolo me Kritharaki to her husband, Xenofon, and daughter, Eirini, as the Papacharalampous family gathers around the table for their weekly Sunday lunch. The meal includes home-cooked food made with the care and love that has been bringing this Greek family together for over 30 years. (Courtesy of Nafsika Papacharalampous)

Katerina explains that the graviera cheese used in her recipe is from a friend who lives in Crete: “This cheese, you know where it is coming from, it is purer.” “And it tastes better,” Eirini, her daughter, adds as she enters the kitchen and nibbles on some bread. In Greece, friends and family living in rural areas had always been sending foodstuffs into the city, and the link between the countryside and the city still remains strong. These foods, like the graviera cheese, are greatly valued maybe now more than ever, as there is a turn toward rural simplicity and attention paid to local provenance.

The group moves into the family room, a wide bright space where the living room and dining room coexist. The room is wide, now filled with the aromas of meat and tomatoes. There are floor-to-ceiling windows on each side and a door leading to the separate kitchen area. In the living room area there are three couches, the TV, and the fireplace, while the dining room has a wooden round table and four wooden chairs around it, one for each of us. On days when guests are invited, more chairs are brought in. Today everyone is dressed in their casual outfits, jeans and sweatpants; when a family member is joining, the dress code remains the same. However, if there are more people invited, family or friends, then everyone dresses up.

Eirini helps Xenofon set the table with a white crisp tablecloth with small flowers, brown linen napkins, and the everyday cutlery. Four white ceramic plates from IKEA are placed on the table, with knife on the right side and fork on the left. The cutlery—plain, steel, and without any frills—has been in the household for decades, a wedding present given to the couple. On special occasions silver cutlery with a more elaborate design is used, a full set of knives, forks, and spoons of various sizes and for various uses (a fish knife, a dessert knife, and so forth). Xenofon inherited these from his grandparents, and they have been in his family for generations. Similarly, the water glasses placed at the top right corner of each plate are also mass-produced, while on special occasions the family heirlooms, fine glasses with handcrafted elements, are used. It seems that the festive meals remain closer to the past, as items of sentimental and monetary value are used, while for everyday meals mass-produced industrialized items are preferred, creating an important distinction between celebration and everyday life, between the past and the present.

The Sunday lunch, considered somewhere between celebration and everyday life, still remains a ritual for the Greek family, and setting the table plays an important role in this. One may eat on the couch in front of the TV or laptop when alone or use paper napkins, but for the family lunch taking the time to set the table is a way of respecting the food and the family. Brown linen napkins are placed on each plate, a way of commemorating the past, as back in the day only linen napkins were used: “Each person had their own linen napkin, and there was always a tablecloth; this is the way we learned, and this is what we want to teach our children,” Katerina and Xenofon agree. Wineglasses are also brought to the table, as is a glass carafe with red wine. If there are children or teenagers present, they do not get a wineglass, a subtle separation of the young from the old. No sodas or other beverages accompany the meal, a jug with crisp tap water placed in the middle of the table being the only drink preferred, as if not to intervene with the bold flavors of the food.

Eirini brings a steel bread basket covered in a red cloth with slices of bread. There used to be bakers, but now the loaf of bread is purchased at the supermarket presliced or is sliced at home. Xenofon and Eirini prefer brown bread, while Katerina prefers white, so there might be either depending on what has been purchased. Today it is brown, which makes Eirini very happy as she loves dipping it into the sauce. On the table there is also olive oil, brought in a large tin container from a village in the southern part of Greece; vinegar bought at the supermarket; and freshly squeezed lemon juice made with lemons from the garden, all poured into small glass bottles with corks that used to contain ouzo. There is also fine sea salt and a pepper mill. All these are there for each person to dress their salad. The salads are brought into the table by Xenofon, boiled vegetables for Katerina and a finely chopped lettuce and grated carrot salad for everyone else.

While the table is being prepared, Katerina moves between the living room and the kitchen to check on the food. “Speaking of ingredients,” she says, “we only buy tomatoes in the summer. Xenofon goes to the central market, where he buys many kilos of tomatoes, and we sit together, blend them into a puree, place them in jars, and freeze them. So whenever I want to cook something with tomato, I defrost one of these jars.” “I don’t like the taste of canned tomatoes,” Xenofon says. “It doesn’t really taste like tomato.” They both agree. Fresh ingredients and seasonality still play an important role in the Greek table. Even though many are now using supermarkets to source their foodstuffs, local networks of bakers, butchers, and cheesemongers are still alive, complementing and coexisting with the convenience of the one-stop shop. No matter where people shop, however, seasonality and locality are still valued, as Greek-origin foodstuffs, which can often be more expensive than foreign ones, are preferred. “We always buy Greek meat,” Katerina says. “You know how the animals are raised here. And we have to support our producers.” An elusive sense of nationalism is being reproduced in the choice of ingredients for the family lunch especially today, a time of crisis.

As the family sits around the table, Katerina brings the glass baking tray with the brown meatloaf, surrounded by the red tomato sauce, golden orzo, and pieces of melted cheese. Everyone waits for all to be served. Then the group wishes “Kali Orexi” (Bon Appétit) so as to start eating. Katerina serves Xenofon first, then Eirini, and in the end herself. If there are guests they are always served first, older people and men having priority over the young and the women. This order of serving still remains very much alive, embracing and maintaining the family and social hierarchies. Xenofon usually gets a large portion of food, while Eirini and Katerina get smaller portions. After Katerina serves, there is always food left, maybe a couple of servings, which remain at the table for whoever would like to eat more. After the end of the meal, the leftovers are kept in glass containers in the fridge; if there are more than two portions left, they are usually stored in the freezer and used on a weeknight so Katerina doesn’t have to think of what to cook every day.

There is no TV in the background or music on; Greeks are very, very loud on their own. The only thing that can be heard is the noise from the knives and forks touching the plates, satisfied “mmm” noises, and always the (often heated) discussions on nothing and everything: from what happened during the week at school or work to the way the food tastes (“What is that herb in the meatloaf again? It is delicious.”) and from current affairs and the new government to same-sex marriage. Different generations come together, and the young often clash with the old, debating different life views but also seeking advice. Tradition and modernity are defined and negotiated around the Greek table.

Eirini sprinkles some more grated cheese on her orzo as everyone takes a piece of bread from the basket. Xenofon serves himself some water and passes the jug around. He also serves himself some wine; the rest prefer to just have water. Xenofon puts some salad on his salad plate and dresses it with olive oil and vinegar; Eirini doesn’t take any, while Katerina prefers lemon and olive oil for her boiled vegetables.

It is a sunny day in Athens as most days are, and the bright light entering the large windows contradicts the wintery food prepared. But foods change according to the seasons, and despite the sunshine it is still winter. In the summer, the family Sunday lunch will probably be served on the balcony and consist of fresh grilled fish, a horiatiki (tomato and cucumber salad with feta cheese and olives), crisp cool white wine or beer, and of course bread.

The meatloaf is tender, and the piece with the yolk from the hard-boiled eggs is the one everyone prefers. Xenofon later asks for a second serving, joking that his first piece wasn’t “the good one” because it didn’t have much of the egg.

Everyone upholds table manners. Eirini’s phone beeps, but she doesn’t reply to the text. Although there is not a strict no-phones rule, usually phones are left aside for lunch. The only thing eaten with hands is bread. Xenofon explains that when he was young everyone learned how to “properly eat”: elbows close to sides, knife on the right hand, and fork on the left, and this is still how all Greeks eat now, young and old. Xenofon tells a story of when he was a young boy and his father used to put books under his arms when eating so that he kept his elbows close to his body, and at boarding school he had to sit at the table for hours to learn how to peel an orange with a knife and fork, making absolutely no sound at all: “You place the orange peel on your plate so that the knife touches the peel and not the plate, and no sound is made.” Learning table manners as such forms part of the greater social changes that happened in Greece after the 1950s. The urbanization created the need for many to integrate into city life and create a new social identity closer to the modernized West, escaping from their rural roots. This was manifested in learning the “appropriate” table manners, often described in cookery books of the time. Today, even though table manners are always taught to and followed by the young, these stories seem so strange and make Eirini laugh as she takes pieces of bread and dips them in the tomato sauce, creating mouthfuls of orzo, cheese, tomato, and bread.

The orzo cooked in the tomato sauce has a risotto-like texture, gooey and smooth, but far beyond al dente: pasta, rice, and vegetables are often very well cooked in Greece, the older generation thinking that al dente is a state of cooking synonymous to undercooked. The saltiness of the cheese balances the sweetness of the summer tomatoes, while the cinnamon, although not apparent, offers an Anatolian twist to the otherwise Western flavors, symbolizing Greece’s presence betwixt and between these two worlds: Anatolia (in present-day Turkey) and the West. The salad is crispy, offering the much-needed freshness to a warm and comforting meal, while the bread, a staple at the Greek table, is always eaten dipped in the sauce and in the olive oil and vinegar or lemon that remains in the salad bowl.

Seconds?

In some countries it is considered requisite that the host offer more food, and refusing it is considered impolite. In Greece, for example, it is a compliment to the host, and one easily becomes stuffed. In other countries, the offer of food must be politely refused at first. In some contexts an offer of food should not be accepted. In Chile, it is considered impolite to help yourself to seconds. In Scotland if someone says “you’ll already have had your tea,” that is not a question but a statement, affirming that you won’t be served food, so please don’t ask. In some places it is expected that you will take a small portion to make sure everyone is fed and only later take more. Equally fascinating is when food placed at the end of a meal should not be touched, as with rice at the end of a Chinese banquet. Eating it would signal that there wasn’t enough food, and you’re still hungry.

Xenofon sips his wine while a heated discussion on the significance of fasting has begun. Although certain days of fasting are usually respected in Greek households, this is now changing, as fewer young people conform to the traditional cycles of fasting and feasting. The discussion moves on to a different topic, as Eirini says that she wants to get a dog and everyone offers their opinion. While discussing potential names for the future dog, everyone is almost done eating. Katerina soon starts clearing the plates. She brings two ashtrays and cigarettes for her and Xenofon. The change in the weather is now the topic at hand and how cold it is expected to be in the next few days. Xenofon and Katerina smoke. No dessert is served today, although usually there will be seasonal fruit. Katerina offers to make coffee, indicating the end of the meal. Only now can everyone get up and move to the living room area where they will have coffee.

Nafsika finishes her coffee and says goodbye to the Athenian family; it has been almost two and a half hours since her arrival at this warm home. As the afternoon sun begins to set, Nafsika realizes that until today she had never noticed how important this Sunday lunch is, even though she grew up with it. Nor did she realize how this ritual and this food prepared with love and care holds families together and how it brings comfort to the soul.

Greek Meatloaf

1 medium onion

Handful of finely chopped parsley leaves

Quarter of a loaf of stale bread, crusts removed, cut into pieces

Milk (enough to cover the bread)

1 pound of ground beef

1 pound of ground pork

Salt and pepper

2 eggs

½ cup grated graviera cheese (or another salty, mature, hard cheese)

2 tablespoons ketchup

3 hard-boiled eggs

Margarine to grease a pan

Tomatoes

1¼ cup orzo

2-3 pinches of cinnamon

1.Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.

2.Gently fry the onion until it becomes translucent and slightly brown.

3.Then add the parsley leaves to the onion and turn off the heat. Let cool.

4.Place the pieces of bread into a bowl.

5.Pour enough milk over it so that it covers the bread. Let it soak.

6.In a large bowl, place the ground beef and ground pork, seasoning with salt and pepper.

7.Add the (now) cooled onions with the parsley to the soaked bread, squeezing out with your hands all the excess liquid; add the 2 eggs, the cheese, and the ketchup. Knead using your hands until all ingredients are well mixed together.

8.Peel the 3 hard-boiled eggs.

9.Arrange the meat mixture on a clean surface, forming a wide rectangular shape.

10.Place the 3 hard-boiled eggs on top of the meat mixture, one next to the other, parallel to its longest side.

11.With your hands, lift the meat mixture from the sides and cover the eggs, creating a meatloaf with “hidden” eggs inside.

12.Butter a rectangular deep glass baking tray with margarine. Place the meatloaf in the center.

13.Pour enough tomatoes (pulsed in a food processor) and a little bit of water all around until they reach the middle of the meatloaf.

14.Bake for 45 minutes or until the loaf browns and the tomato is cooked.

15.Remove from oven and add orzo in the tomato sauce; season with salt, pepper, and cinnamon.

16.Add water so that the orzo cooks in the tomato sauce and water.

17.Stir with a spoon so that the orzo, salt, pepper, cinnamon, tomato, and water are well mixed together around the meatloaf.

18.Turn down the oven to 350 degrees, and when the orzo is cooked about 20 minutes later (you may add some more water if needed), sprinkle grated graviera cheese on the orzo, return to the oven, and bake for another 5 minutes or until the cheese melts.