Kρητικός ντάκος, or how to eat Cretan barley rusks

Now that summer is officially here, there's the chance you'll find some tomatoes that actually taste the way tomatoes should. I'd be lying if I told you I've ever tasted a tomato here in Australia that comes close to the ones we eat in Greece; there's something about the Mediterranean sun that works magic on the fruit, because they're always sweeter and more fragrant than tomatoes here - and very often they're meatier with less water. But if you're growing your own or happen upon some at the farmer's market that have that intoxicating smell (you do sniff tomatoes before you buy them, right?), this is a beautiful way of eating them.

Dakos is a particular type of paximádi (dried bread or rusk) and is a speciality of the island of Crete. While paximádi are eaten all over Greece, dakos are particular in that they're made with stone-ground barley, imparting a rich nutty flavour and giving the rusks an addictive robust texture. The rusks are twice-baked until very, very dry and need to be rehydrated with sprinkles of water and then brought to life by the sweet spicyness of tomato juices and fresh olive oil soaking through. You might be surprised by how good this simple combination is, unadorned - but if you want to take these to the next level (of course you do), crumble on a creamy feta or chevre and a sprinkle of Greek oregano. So simple, but really a magical combination that becomes more than the sum of its parts. If you're in the mood for garlic and don't have a date that night, add a little - very finely minced - to make it a little more punchy.

You can buy Cretan rusks at most good Greek delis; they usually come packaged in plastic or cellophane bags. My favourite are Manna brand ("Το Μάννα") and have a green and white printed label, but ask the staff as there's often quite a number to choose from and more seem to be imported all the time. Wetting the rusks might seem a strange thing to do, but what you end up with is never soggy - only pleasantly toothsome and porous enough to soak up all the flavours you pile on top. Don't try to eat them dry, as you'll seriously risk losing teeth. Kinda like the time Richie and Eddie ate the Special K past its sell-by. Watch and learn, kiddies.

Dakos - and rusks generally - are very good for tossing into salads and are perfect for brown bag lunches. I often cut a salad in the morning then rehydrate the rusks 15 minutes before lunch. When they're soft enough, I break them up and stir them through the rest of the salad before adding my dressing. If summer lunches have to be eaten at work, this is a fine way to improve the day. At home though, I prepare them as below.

Kρητικός ντάκος/Cretan barley rusks with tomato
Makes 1

1 paximádi/rusk
1 ripe tomato, skinned, very finely chopped or grated
your best extra virgin olive oil
salt
a couple of slivers of garlic, finely minced (optional)
a sprig of fresh Greek oregano or a couple of fresh basil leaves (finely sliced)
dried Greek oregano
crumbled creamy feta or goat cheese, to taste


1. To rehydrate the rusk, run it under a running faucet, rubbing it all over so that it seems quite wet. You can also submerge rusks in a bowl of water for half a minute or so. Set aside to drain and soak through.

2. In a smal bowl, combine tomato, fresh oregano or basil leaves, garlic (if using), salt to taste and a generous glug of olive oil. Stir and set aside for 10 minutes so that the flavours combine.

3. Some people like their rusks more wet, other more crunchy - you decide. I feel mine's ready when it has a little give but doesn't leak water when I press into it. Top the rusk with the tomato mixture, add the cheese and rub the dried oregano between your fingers as you sprinkle it on top, to release its flavour.

olives with orange, rosemary, oregano and garlic

Making dinner for a friend last night, I wondered if I should blog any of the dishes I was preparing. In the moment I had that thought, I was peeling a long strip of orange peel to toss into my bowl of olives. Because preparing these is part of my weekly routine and is sort of this automatic thing I do after coming home from the market, I didn't realise that what I should write about are these olives, precisely. This is my favorite way to prepare olives.

I don't mean to cure olives from scratch; that's one thing that I just haven't had time to try, though I think about it often. This is just a simple preparation that will lift a tub of good, plain olives to a new level. I've never been one to buy pre-marinated olives; so often they seem overloaded with poor-quality dried herbs and flakes of stuff that cling annoyingly to the olives in a thick slick of poor-quality oil. I preferred a good olive plain, meaty and fruity - those ones that strike you during a meal like some ingenious use of punctuation when you're reading. Until I made these, that is.

What I love about these is that the clean, robust mouthfeel of the plump olive is preserved, but when you bite in, there's this wonderful aromatic explosion that happens. And it is led predominantly, surprisingly, by the flavour of the orange. Rosemary is a natural pairing for the citrus fruit, but oregano is very good too and here I've used both. Sometimes I add garlic, sometimes I don't. In short, you can add what you like here, as long as you try throwing in that long strip of orange peel - and then tell me what you think.

Lastly, some things I think are important in olives. People often comment how nice the olives I buy are - it's not a fluke! I'm fussy. It's worth sourcing good-quality olives - it doesn't necessarily mean they'll be more expensive or hard to find. Just ask to try one before you buy. I buy large Kalamata olives, out of habit and because I love them. My family is from Kalamata; this may have something to do with it. But as a rule of thumb, they shouldn't be mushy or really, really salty; instead you want meaty and robustly flavoured fruit. If you can't find large olives firm enough for your taste, try going the next size down: with less meat they often hold up better to storage and transportation. And finally, pitted or unpitted? Whole olives with their stone will win my heart every time, even if a pitted olive can sing like Jarvis Cocker. When the stone is taken out, brine washes right through the flesh of the olive, often leaving them really salty and destroying the fruit's texture. Besides, there's nothing more sexy than eating olives with your hands on a dinner date; as Jarvis says, "if you didn't come here to party, then why did you come here?"

Olives with orange, rosemary, oregano and garlic

1 small tub of large Kalamata olives (or whatever you prefer)
2 strips of orange peel
2 small sprigs rosemary
2 small sprigs oregano (or other fresh herb)
2 cloves of garlic, unpeeled, but poked in a few places with the tip of your knife
3 tbsp good-quality olive oil

1. Mix all ingredients together gently and pop into the fridge. Leave overnight, tossing them about a little whenever you think of it (2 or 3 times). Voila.

kρητική σαλάτα με γλιστρίδα / cretan salad with purslane

Around this time of the year in Melbourne (and elsewhere, I'm sure), if you have any garden space at all (propagated, slighted forgotten, pit of dirt etc), chances are that this is popping up through the soil to say hello:


The vine-leafy thing belongs to one of my watermelon vines, but that other succulent-looking and rather cute little weed is actually purslane - and it is very good to eat. There are a good number of common "weeds" that Greeks collect and cook and eat, but purslane is one of the most commonly found - yet it's one of the most nutritious vegetables you could put on your plate, or into your salad, as the case may be.


This little plant, that so many people pull out of their gardens and throw into the green waste bin, actually has higher levels of omega-3 fatty acids than any other vegetable plant! And them's those good fatty acids, like in fish - so it's a great source for vegetarians. It also has really high levels of antioxidants and other vitamins and minerals. It's like a wonder food - and it could be growing in your yard right now! Go out and have a look. And if you're into a bit of biological research (I really am), click here to have a look a report from a detailed study of the nutritional properties of purslane and other wild weeds that Greeks eat.


I've got a couple of purslane recipes up my sleeve, but I thought I'd introduce the little wonder herb with a gorgeous Cretan salad, because the weather is warm and the tomatoes are ripe. Cretan salad is like a regular Greek salad with a twist or two: in this case I've added fresh sprigs of purslane and cretan dakos, or rusks. These are wonderful little country-style dried bread slices (I've used miniature here, but you could get the larger ones and break them up) that you moisten with a little water and throw into the salad to soak up all the lovely dressing and juices from the tomatoes. They're often made with barley, making them very good for you, but you can get a few different sorts. Rusks are eaten all over Greece, but a good rule of thumb when buying them here is to look for word 'Cretan' or 'Κρητικά'; they're definitely the best ones imported. Try Greek delis and supermarkets in suburbs like Brunswick, Preston, Northcote or Oakleigh if you're having trouble finding them. They're well worth a bit of a trek.

I've hardly ever seen a Greek salad being dressed with pre-mixed dressing. The salt, vinegar and oil are added separately at the end, to suit individual tastes. This might take a bit of practice, but you'll soon be dressing salads perfectly with a few flicks of the wrist. Remember, you can always add more oil, salt etc after a taste! The ideal Greek salad encompasses a range of textures and flavours; it should be sweet and sharp, creamy and crunchy, salty and juicy. And all the deliciousness should concentrate in a pool at the bottom of your bowl, ready to be soaked up with fresh bread, or pieces of rusk. Accompany with an ouzo on ice on a hot day. After eating, recline and think about how healthy your lunch was - and consider pouring another glass.

kρητική σαλάτα με γλιστρίδα / cretan salad with purslane

Serves 1 as a yummy big lunch, or two as a side

4 small cretan rusks, or 1 or 2 larger rusks
1 large red ripe tomato, cored and sliced into wedges
1/2 medium or 1 small lebanese cucumber, peeled in parts, seeded and sliced
1/2 a small onion, very thinly sliced
a smallish piece of feta (as much as you like to eat in a salad)
5 or 6 stalks of purslane, rinsed and picked over (you don't want the thickest part of the stem)
a couple of sprigs of Greek basil (or regular basil), leaves picked
a big spoonful (or to taste) of Kalamata olives
a couple of cherry tomatoes, halved
some nice salt (Maldon, sea salt etc)
white wine vinegar (nothing too strong - sherry vinegar is nice!)
good olive oil
rigani, or dried Greek oregano

1. Run your cold tap and pass the rusks under until wet all over. Leave for a few minutes to drain and moisten through.

2. Combine tomato, cucumber, onion, feta, purslane, greek or regular basil leaves and the moistened rusks and toss to combine.

3. Add your olives and halved cherry tomatoes to make it look a little more pretty. Sprinkle with a good pinch of salt, or to taste. Add a few drops of vinegar (holding your thumb over the end of the bottle if it doesn't have a pouring thingy) over the salad. Top this with a few glugs of olive oil. The salt should have travelled through the salad on the little streams of oil and vinegar and the dressing. Genius, huh? Sprinkle with dried oregano and tuck in.

Kolokithopita (Greek Cheese & Pumpkin Pie) & How to make (the best) Greek cheese pies

When we arrive in Greece, we always take a bus from the airport to the bus station that services the Peloponnese. The bus joins the chaos steaming along newly built highways and speeds past half-completed concrete buildings, through the industrial outskirts of Athens. From the other side of the bus window the chaotic momentum of this magnificent, sprawling, modern city begins already to weave its magic spell on your jet-lagged eyes, making them big and wet again. And then you pull into the big old bus station made of painted tin and it's a different world altogether. Gypsies and business men wait by suitcases and bundles of fabric, while priests read newspapers and old men sell lottery tickets. Old, old Greek music spills through crackling speakers at a volume they can't handle. And people sit down for something to eat before long journeys. I love this wait for all these reasons - and because I always buy a tiropita from the cafeteria.


It's one of the things I do to make sure I'm really there - because in Greece tiropita, or cheese pies, are everywhere. They're sold at stations, through shop windows on the street and in bakeries all over the country, and there are so many varieties that I've accepted I'll never be able to try them all. Outside of Greece, the most well-known seems to be spanakopita, the cheese and spinach pie - but I sometimes worry that it's become one of those dishes people make only when they have a vegetarian coming over. A good Greek cheese pie - let's start calling them pita - should be something everybody loves, something perfect to take to parties, barbecues and to have for dinner with a salad.

This is also a recipe request from my darling friend Yardena who wants the recipe for spanakopita. Instead, I made a kolokithopita (cheese and pumpkin), but have included instructions for turning this into a number of Greek cheese pie delights. And I've also included photos and instructions on how to make Greek cheese pies village-styles, because whenever I make them like this, people swoon. For some reason, many people are scared of using filo pastry. Which is a damn shame because it always seems to me to be the easiest to handle of any kind. In fact, the whole dish is superbly simple and can be thrown together in very little time.


In Greece when you buy tiropita or spanakopita they're often hand-sized and made with flaky pastry, which contrasts wonderfully with the salty, creamy filling. At home, they're usually made with filo like mine below - for this style filo is best. I've used a non-commercial filo that I buy from a Turkish grocery store - you'll see that it's a little thicker and easier to deal with. It also goes wonderfully crispy when brushed with butter and baked. Try Middle Eastern food stores and continental delicatessens, but if you can't find it, just use the commercial variety and adhere two sheets together by brushing with butter to make a thicker piece.

The pumpkin pita has everything that is excellent about the cheese pita, with the sweetness of the pumpkin to contrast with the salty creamy filling. You simply grate the pumpkin into the cheese mixture raw and it cooks inside the pie, lending moisture and lightness without ever becoming soggy. The ricotta, with the help of an egg, sets the filling just firm, and the best thing about making it into a round whirligig is that this spiral of sweet and salty cheese and pumpkin is encased in layer upon layer of thin, crispy casing. To take it to the next level, add a grating of nutmeg and a swirl of good honey to the filling. Trust me, everyone will ask you for the recipe.

Kolokithopita (Greek cheese and Pumpkin Pie)
Note: the amount of pastry (and filling) will depend on the size of your tin or tray. To make spanakopita (spinach and cheese pie), substitute the pumpkin for a bunch of spinach, wilted, strained and finely chopped. Instead of honey nutmeg, use some dill or fennel fronds. For tiropita (plain cheese pie), increase the ricotta and feta by 100g of each. I leave the nutmeg and honey in, but do as you please!

100g butter melted
3 large round sheets of handmade filo pastry, halved or around 12 sheets of commercial filo pastry

For filling:
500g fresh ricotta
400g feta (goat or sheep milk is best)
1 egg
350g pumpkin, grated
a grating of nutmeg
1 tbsp honey
salt & pepper

Preheat oven to 180ºC/350ºF.

Crumble ricotta and feta into a mixing bowl. Add egg, nutmeg and honey, then mash and mix up with a fork until combined. Add grated pumpkin and season with salt and pepper, remembering that the feta is salty. Mix with fork.

Brush tin or tray with melted butter to grease.

Spread pastry out and brush all over with melted butter. If using commercial filo, join two sheets with butter and use as one. Spoon filling along one long edge of pastry almost to the edges. Fold in edges, then roll the pastry away from you to form a tube. Fit into tin, bending gently to curve. Repeat until the spiral is complete. You should have some butter remaining - use this to brush over the top of the pie generously.

Pop into oven for 40 - 50 minutes or until golden brown. In a rental property oven (like mine), you may need to turn the pie halfway through cooking and/or leave it in a little longer. Cut into wedges and serve straight from the pan.

Yemista (Greek Stuffed Vegetables)

Warm, soft and rich, yemista is comfort food at its finest - the kind where the first forkful always summons memories of eating it in the past. Memories of my grandmother's version, eaten in the hot summer evening, with salty hair and sandy feet, at the plastic table on her rooftop balcony. Or my mother's version, cooked on Sunday, eaten on Monday after long days at work, or at school. It's beautiful how the most humble dishes can invoke such vivid recollections of moments past.

Like many of the finest Greek dishes, yemista is rich but wholesome. The vegetables become fleshy and sweet after their long roasting, and the filling of rice, vegetables and herbs transforms into a kind of soft, dense risotto. The recipe given below is vegetarian, but you can make the more traditional version with meat by substituting some of the rice for mince and frying it off before you add the other ingredients. Both versions are delicious.

Hollowing out the vegetables can be a bit of a job - depending on what you use - but it's not a bit difficult, and the result is always worth it. You can add pine nuts to the filling (or whatever else you think would be good) or throw quartered potatoes into the roasting dish around the vegetables to make a more substantial meal. This dish makes an excellent hot dinner on chilly nights, but is perhaps even better eaten (all year round) slightly warm or at room temperature for maximum flavour. Prepare it a day in advance and, magically, the flavour only improves. 

Greek Stuffed Vegetables (Yemista)

A note on choosing your vegetables: go for those that are rounded with plenty of room for stuffing. A bottle-neck shaped eggplant will cause much grief when you attempt to hollow it out - look for those that are wider at the top.

4 red capsicum

2 large eggplants

5 large tomatoes

1 large brown onion, finely chopped

2 cloves garlic, minced or finely chopped

5 tbps (or so) of good olive oil

A good knob of butter

1 1/2 cups of aborio rice

1 medium zucchini, chopped into a small dice

1 tsp cumin

3 or 4 tinned tomatoes chopped, with their juice

a big handful of chopped fresh parsley 

1/3 cup of dried currants

around 800ml vegetable or chicken stock

salt and fresh ground pepper

3 tbsp olive oil, extra

Juice of 1 lemon

1/2 cup grated mizithra (salted dried ricotta) or parmesan

Using a sharp little knife (carefully!), cut the tops of the capsicums to make what looks like little lids or hats and scoop out any seeds. Cut the seeded heart from the lid so that that each capsicum is entirely empty. Keep the right lids with the right bottoms! Cut lids from the tomatoes and gently scoop out the flesh and seeds, chop up any larger bits and reserve in a bowl. Cut tops from eggplant and scoop out flesh and reserve in a colander. Sprinkle with salt to draw out any bitterness. 

For filling, pop oil and butter into a large frying pan. Cook onion, stirring, over low heat until translucent then add garlic. Stir for a minute or so, then add rice and stir to coat well. Stir in the cumin and the currants, add some freshly ground pepper. Rinse eggplant flesh of excess salt, chop finely and add to rice along with zucchini. Fry this mixture, stirring every now and then, until vegetables soften and begin to look sticky. Pour in the reserved tomato flesh and juice, add the tinned tomatoes and throw in the parsley. Stir in around 500ml of the stock and cook for 10 - 15 minutes. Stir from time to time and add a ladle of stock if it looks like it's drying out. The rice should be about half-cooked. Taste for salt (this will depend on your stock). Take off the heat and let cool slightly. Preheat oven to 180˚C. 

Fill each hollowed-out vegetable nearly to the top with rice mixture, add its little hat and arrange in a large roasting dish. Add lemon juice to remaining stock and pour around vegetables to keep moist during cooking. Pour extra olive oil over vegetables. Sprinkle with cheese. Cover with foil and pop in hot oven for 1¼ - 1½ hours, removing foil after first 45 minutes to get a nice colour on the vegetables. If they seem dry, add a little water. They're done when they're soft all over and golden on top.