An Athens Christmas

Eating Well Is The Best Revenge

by Diana Farr Louis

ATHENS, Greece—(Weekly Hubris)—12/20/10—Summer lasted in fair Hellas this year until the 11^th of December. The rest of Europe was paralyzed by snow and sub-zero temperatures, but the weather god took pity on our crisis-ridden state and blessed us with what looked like being eternal spring. I even swam on December 3^rd. Plunged into tingly but not frigid water on Andros, which under normal circumstances remains fresh all summer. But what’s normal anymore?

In the old days, i.e. up until this year, winter in Attica never really began until after Christmas. We might have a cold snap, I even remember a snowy Thanksgiving, but you could rely on an Indian summer persisting well beyond the expiry date.

This being the case, a White Christmas is nothing more than a fantasy impossible to imagine in the Athens area. And for the first two decades that I lived here, the holiday bore little resemblance to the over-the-top commercial version it has now become. Since Greeks traditionally exchange presents on the New Year, brought by Ai Vassili (St. Basil, not St. Nick), Christmas was more a celebration of fancy food after a short fast, and open house parties hosted by people named Christos (no, not Christ, but better translated as Christian) and Christina.

All the fixtures we Westerners associate with Christmas—trees, lights, Santa Claus and reindeer, the Messiah, Bing Crosby, malls ringing with “silver bells”. . . and “jingle bells,” frenzied last-minute shopping—are imports from my native land. But they have been embraced here with exuberant enthusiasm.

This year, the ornament stores had the Christmas lights blinking by November 1^st, a giant inflatable Santa has been blocking the sidewalk outside my neighborhood electrical shop since late November, fairy lights twinkle on palm trees, Frank Sinatra croons above my bank, and fir trees have been piled up alongside the main avenue since the beginning of the month.

You could call it the triumph of hope over reality, because all over Athens, hundreds of shops are either closed or going out of business. And our strike schedule is so relentless for the run-up to the 25^th, that no one will be able to approach the center of town by bus, trolley, tram, or metro. Gridlock reigns, quashing hopes of getting to the opera or ballet, or even seeing friends who live in another section of this untidy metropolis.

But some things resist change. Among them: Greek Christmas sweets. Whether store-bought or homemade, two special favorites will be set out this season in every household, no matter how crisis-stricken. Sugar-dusted kourabiedes are my downfall, while my surgeon-spouse cannot resist walnut-sprinkled melomakarona.

Before the sun comes out again, I’m going to go bake my own, but first I’ll give you the recipes. I found them while researching Feasting and Fasting in Crete in Heraklio. Platters of these goodies are guaranteed to raise your Christmas spirit by several notches.

Christmas Shortbread Cookies (Kourabiedes)

Kostanza Gavrilaki, who made these for me, was an elegant dowager. She did not look like a hands-on pastry cook and yet she was famous for her kourabiedes and New Year’s cakes, both in Heraklio and Detroit, where one daughter lived. She used voutiro galaktos, which is a form of clarified butter sold in Greece in jars. See if you can find Mayflower or another concentrated (industrially clarified) butter, which is specially recommended for pastries and cakes.

1/2 kg (1 lb) concentrated butter, softened

1/2 kg (1 lb) almonds, blanched and browned a bit in oven, chopped but not too finely

2 egg yolks

2 tablespoons confectioners’ sugar

1 teaspoon powdered cinnamon

2 tablespoons brandy

600 grams (6 to 6 1/2 Cups) sifted flour

1 kg (2 lbs) confectioners’ sugar for covering

One of the secrets to making successful kourabiedes is prolonged beating of the butter and sugar until the mixture gets white and fluffy. (Kostanza did this by hand but I use an electric beater.) After it has reached this stage, mix in the rest of the ingredients, except the almonds, and add the flour slowly until you have a tough dough. Fold in the almonds. The dough should be fairly crumbly but malleable enough to be molded into shapes, either crescents or slightly flattened balls about 1 inch thick and 2 in diameter.

To make the shapes of your choice, break off small bits of dough and roll them between your palms until they are fairly smooth and line them up on greased cookie sheets. Don’t worry if there are a few cracks; the confectioners’ sugar you will dust them with after baking will cover up any minor defects.

Preheat the oven to 200°C (400°F). Bake for 30 min on the middle rack. Keep a close watch over them, since they must not brown. Let cool to barely warm and then, using a sieve, shake confectioners’ sugar over the cookies. Later, when they are completely cool, pour the remaining sugar on a platter or large piece of waxed paper and gently roll each piece in it, patting the sugar with your fingers to make it stick. Kourabiedes should be completely white, with no pastry showing. Makes about 80 small cookies.

This recipe may be easily halved if this seems too many, but if you keep them small, you and your guests will be able to eat more without feeling guilty.

Akrivi’s Christmas Cookies (Melomakarona)

Akrivi Mouzouraki is the proprietress of a popular taverna on the coast near Heraklio, on Crete. And she definitely looked at home in the kitchen, according to the maxim, “Never trust a skinny cook.” All the recipes she gave me were a bit different from the norm. For example, she stuffs her melomakarona with chopped walnuts, instead of just sprinkling them on top.

Greeks generally pour syrup over these, which makes them too sweet for me. If your sweet tooth is similarly less developed, you may omit it and still have delicious biscuits.

For the dough

about 450 grams (3-4 cups) all purpose flour

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

240 ml (1 Cup) olive oil

50 grams (1/4 Cup) sugar

1/2 teaspoon baking soda diluted in

120 ml (1/2 Cup) fresh orange juice

60 ml (1/4 Cup) brandy

grated peel of one lemon

Sift the flour with the baking powder into a bowl.

In a larger bowl beat together the olive oil and sugar with the electric mixer for 3 or 4 minutes and then beat in the other liquids, adding the grated lemon peel at the end. Slowly stir in the flour until a soft dough forms. Remove the dough from the bowl and knead it on a lightly floured surface until it is smooth and malleable. Add more flour if the dough seems sticky. Cover with plastic wrap and set aside to rest for about 30 minutes.

Walnut filling

1/2 kg (1 lb) walnuts, coarsely chopped

3 heaping tablespoons honey

1 tablespoon cinnamon

1/4 teaspoon ground cloves

1/4 teaspoon grated nutmeg

Mix all these ingredients together with your hands or a wooden spoon to distribute the spices evenly.

Preheat the oven to 180°C (350°F).

Pinch off a walnut-sized piece of dough and roll it into a ball. Make a hole in it with your thumb and fill it with some of the walnut mixture. Close the hole and place the ball, which should look like a small egg, onto an ungreased cookie sheet. When all the dough has been shaped into biscuits, bake for about 30 minutes or until golden.

Syrup (optional)

150 grams (3/4 Cup) sugar

120 ml (1/2 Cup) honey

120 ml (1/2 Cup) water

60 ml (1/4 Cup) brandy

Boil these ingredients together for 3 minutes, skimming off the foam. Dip the biscuits in the syrup when it has thoroughly cooled or the next day. Sprinkle finely ground walnuts and roasted sesame seeds on top. Makes about 2-3 dozen, depending on how large you want them.

PS It was cold for two whole days. Even on the bright but chilly Sunday after our “blizzard,” I spied a bare-chested man sunbathing on his balcony. And during a walk in our snowy park, a graffito had another recipe for ending our crisis: “Lysi sti krisi, nomimo to hashishi.” Even without Greek, you can get the gist: “Solution to the crisis, legalize pot.” Stick with the cookies, they’re safer.