They contain considerable amounts of anti-oxidants and bioflavonoids, and have preventive properties against arteriosclerosis (the thickening and hardening of arteries). But the health benefits are just a welcome bonus as the main reason we love capers and add them to all sorts of dishes is the bud's delicious aromatic and pungent flavor! 

On Greek islands and all along the Mediterranean caper bushes grow wild and hang majestically on rocky cliffs over the sea. Their popularity, that peaked in recent years, dates back to ancient times. Dioscorides describes the medicinal properties of capers which are explored on a very interesting paper compiled by a group of Iranian scientists, published at the International Journal of Agriculture and Crop Sciences. "Capers are said to reduce flatulence and to be anti-rheumatic in effect. In ayurvedic medicine capers are recorded as hepatic stimulants and protectors, improving liver function," they write. In the paper entitled "Caper the Mystique of the recent century" we read about the bud's preventive properties against arteriosclerosis, as diuretic, and kidney disinfectant, and more interestingly the Iranian scientists claim that capers contain considerable amounts of anti-oxidants and bioflavonoids.

The week before Easter it is customary throughout Greece to bake biscuits; but these bright yellow, spicy ones were very different from the sweet, laden with eggs cookies I was familiar with…

Ever since I tasted these yellow biscuits in a bakery in Astypalaia--the butterfly-shaped, first island of the Dodecanese--about twenty years ago, I’ve been addicted to their slightly peppery taste and crunchy texture. When I first sampled the original, made with yeasted dough, I was startled by their lightness. The ring-shaped cookies were fragrant with allspice, nutmeg and another aroma that I couldn’t make out. The baker told me it was saffron that the women of the island collected from the hills each November, especially for these Easter cookies.

The week before Easter it is customary throughout Greece to bake Easter biscuits, but the ones I was familiar with were sweet and laden with eggs. As I learned later saffron biscuits are found only on this tiny island. In the ancient texts of Athenaeus bread with saffron is described as one of the foods served at symposia, but in modern Greece—although we produce and export excellent saffron from Kozani-- we use hardly any of the precious spice in our traditional dishes.

Invited by José Andrés and his Think Food Group I took part in Zaytinya's Greek Easter events and worked for six days in the restaurant's dream kitchen!

Before opening Zaytinya--more than ten years ago--José Andrés came to see me in Kea, introduced by our mutual friend Mark Furstenberg. He wanted to get my opinion and discuss ideas about the Greek meze he was planning to include in the menu. From the moment he stepped out of the ferry, an early summer day, we started to talk as if we were old friends, almost finishing each other's sentences, as we shared our common passion for authentic food.

He had one of the first iPhones I had seen, and while he talked enthusiastically about his vision for the Eastern Mediterranean meze restaurant, he showed me snapshots of the dishes he served at Jaleo and Oyamel. I don't remember exactly what we cooked, or what we tasted at the various taverns in Kea, but he was constantly taking notes and pictures of everything, and he certainly accepted as true my conviction that he needed to roll phylo in his kitchen and not rely on the packaged stuff.

Unusually warm, with a few days of fierce southern winds, our spring in Kea is progressing rapidly. I heard that this year the Golf Stream moved our way pushing warm air to the southeastern Mediterranean, while Europe's north is still under quite a bit of snow. Cold temperatures are predicted to persist all through the Easter weekend.

After an appreciated wet winter the abundant wild flowers in our property have already started to fade. My favorite sign of spring is the fig tree's first leaves, somewhat translucent with the most attractive velvety green color that won't last; very soon the leaves will grow large and thick, ready to impart a sweet-smoky flavor to the fish Costas wraps in them, protecting the delicate flesh as he grills them over charcoal fire.

The only crop we can always depend on, is fava. Fava has never failed us, even when we first planted a few beans in Kea, in our rocky, poor soil, before adding compost and lots of manure. Everything else failed those first years, but favas thrived! No wonder that since antiquity the prolific fava has been such an important staple for the people around the Mediterranean.

Part of the Old World legumes--together with chickpeas and lentils—fava was a most nutritious bean that fed ancient Egyptians, Greeks and Romans. Called 'broad bean' by the British, it has been found in Neolithic sites in Israel dated back to 6800-6500 BC. Ancients believed that the plant's roots lead straight to Hades, to the underworld, reaching and communicating with the souls of the dead. Pythagoras and his followers, who abstained from eating meat and fish, included fava beans in their forbidden foods because they believed that the souls of men are transformed into beans after death.

This time of the year our vegetable garden displays various shades of green and only the glorious dark red beets, once unearthed, break this winter monotony. We are very fond of our beet salad in Greece, and try to have a year-round supply, planting seeds twice a year.

In the summer, beets can be overshadowed by the tomatoes, but many people here cannot imagine fried or grilled fish without a side dish of sweet beets. Their taste, we think, complements beautifully the saltiness of seafood, so beet salad is always served at Greek fish taverns. Unlike northern Europeans, though, we don't use beets in soups, or cook them together with other vegetables, grains or pasta. We just boil them in plenty of water, and when they become tender we slip off their skins, chop them and dress them in vinegar and fruity olive oil with chopped garlic, or better accompany them with a creamy skordalia, the ubiquitous garlic sauce, in one of its countless Mediterranean variations.

They are not impressive or particularly beautiful the almond trees that fill the slopes of Kèa, as well as most islands of the Cyclades. But when in bloom, this time of the year, they are such a joy to look at! Their sweet aroma fills our bedroom as one of the old trees—we have more than 30 in the property—is right outside our window. They come in various shades of pink, and some are pure white. I guess the people who planted the trees, many years ago, chose different kinds; some produce small round fruit, others larger, elongated and very hard, difficult to crack. In the old days almonds from the islands were considered particularly delicious and fetched high prices. Now, with plenty of cheaper imports, people don't even bother to harvest and crack them…

In a few weeks, when the green almonds reach the size of a small bean, or the nail of my small finger, as my neighbor says, I will collect a few to pickle. It is important to select green almonds that are crunchy but tender --before their shell hardens, and while the nut inside looks like a translucent jelly. To select green almonds for pickling I have to observe carefully their growth, and pick them when they are half an inch long. In just a couple of days they may grow too large and tough, unsuitable for pickling.

Researching regional cuisines, we the food writers, are usually met with incredibly welcoming cooks who not only share their recipes and tips, but may go as far as to organize a whole cooking event for us, inviting their friends and relations, in their eagerness to teach us the cooking of their village or region. But occasionally we encounter a professional, or semi-professional cook who stubbornly refuses to even vaguely describe their signature dish. One such experience I shared with my mentor, renowned author Paula Wolfert in the '90ies, as we travelled through the Northern of Greece, collecting recipes for our books.

Paula's marvelous account of such an incident she shared, some years ago, on the food forum egullet, and now she posted it on the Facebook pageGreek, Balkan and Mediterranean Food :

" For the past 30 or so years, I've traveled around Greece with my good friend, the terrific food writer Aglaia Kremezi. On one trip through the Northern Zagora region (a beautiful area of gorges, forests, rivers, and mountains of layered rocks with a stunning monastery perched on a peak 3,200 feet above sea level) we stopped at a little restaurant in the tiny hamlet of Monodendri famous for its pittas or open faced fried pies -- thin, crisp, fragrant and warm slices of phyllo covered with a layer of shredded kasseri cheese and crumbled feta. The top had an unusual glossy sheen that seemed impossible if the pie was only fried.

“I wonder if you Greeks eat also the stuff that comes out of your ears...” exclaimed chef Rick Moonen as he spit out a piece of pickled volvos --wild grape hyacinth bulb (lampascioni in Italian). A dozen years ago I was asked to initiate Rick Moonen --then chef of Oceana-- and Jim Botsacos into authentic Greek taste and home cooking when the Livanos family was preparing to launch Molyvos, in Manhattan. Rick is one of the most talented chefs I know, a really adventurous eater, but bitter seemed to be a taste he didn’t tolerate. He is not alone. 

Many Americans and Europeans have an almost violent reaction towards bitter foods. On the other hand we Greeks, together with the inhabitants of Italy, and especially Puglia--at the heel of the Italian ‘boot’—are somehow genetically conditioned to crave bitter: besides wild hyacinth bulbs, we also love red-stemmed chicory, probably the most bitter of the bitter greens, and fresh cracked green olives that have just become edible, after a very brief curing. 

Costas dug out the potatoes this morning. We had only planted a few, and we are quite pleased that we ended up with a full basket! Plus a few dark purple Peruvian potatoes from just one that I brought from California. We must have managed to get about 10 pounds, but I didn't weigh them and now is too late as we have already eaten a few; we couldn't wait!

Greek islands, especially Naxos, are renowned for the quality of their potatoes. Almost every garden in Kea plants potatoes twice a year, for the family's table. Some have a surplus to sell. My friend Despoina Drakaki, who recently returned with her husband to her native island of Paros, told me that their potato crop, from a small garden, was amazing this year; more than enough for three families: hers, her son's and her daughter's!

For centuries, poor Greeks used foraged leafy greens to complement their frugal menu of bread, cheese, olives, and olive oil. Today chefs in upscale restaurants --much like the famous René Redzepi, of Noma-- serve them in all kinds of imaginative dishes!

Aginaroula (wild artichoke), alivarvara, karyda, skaloukares are a few of the names used in various parts of Greece for this much sought-after succulent green. Centaurea raphanica is the botanical name, and the plant is part of the extended centaurea family. This time of the year one finds bunches of this curled up horta in farmer's markets. As the lacy leaves grow on the ground it needs soaking and thorough washing to make sure all dirt and sand is removed.

In Crete the tender leaves are often eaten raw, together with other wild and cultivated greens and herbs in a salad dressed with fruity olive oil and home-made vinegar, that is not too aggressive. In Syros island the whole plant is pickled in a vinegary brine, and served as meze with ouzo.

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