Yes. Tostones are good. But this is better. Simple, filling, delicious, and pretty cheap assuming you have a few pantry staples. Best yet, you won’t find this in any cookbook (I’d hope, anyway). It’s not even a recipe, just a rustic happenstance that occurs across much of the Mediterranean.
I learned it from my Yiayia while relaxing on her terrace in Greece, here:
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The miserable might of the early afternoon sun sends most people home for lunch and a nap—the beach would be refreshing were it not for that excessively radiating ball of gas, which burns even those whose skin is darker than cinnamon. 110ºF plus is not uncommon. So, to recreate a Summer afternoon in a Greek paradise, stay home and gather the following:
- Bread, unsliced, homemade or from your baker—it can even be a day old. Baguettes and peasant loaves work wonderfully. And while I’m at it, fuck sliced bread and abominations that come in plastic bags. Seriously, fuck that inferior fodder. Bread should have 5 ingredients: flour, water, yeast, salt, air. Additional herbs, cheese and so on are fine, but when your bread even has an ingredients list, you’re fucked, hard. No apologies. It’s inexcusable that most Americans don’t even know the simple pleasure of real bread. Off my high horse. I’ll post a recipe eventually. Back to the ingredients.
- Extra virgin olive oil. Don’t skimp. Or I’ll drop another rant on your ass.
- Balsamic vinegar. Always get the best you can afford—but any will do, really.
- Ripe tomatoes. I usually use Romas, but any will do.
- Dried oregano. It’s not a Greek kitchen without olive oil and oregano
- Kosher or larger crystal sea salt
- Freshly cracked black pepper
- 1/2 a red onion or a large shallot
Optional are:
- Feta. Not absolutely necessary, but awesome. Get a whole block in brine. If you ever admit to me in person that you buy crumbled feta, I’ll smack you. Seriousl
- Water. If your bread’s a little hard, sop the bread with some H20. Not too much, it should still be able to absorb the oil, vinegar, and tomato.
- Capers in brine. Yum.
You’ll also need:
- a large, flat-ish bowl or dish
- hands; the more the merrier
- a trusty knife and board (if necessary)
Okay. Simple simple. Rip your bread into chunks big enough to hold and gnash on. Two or three bites—big and place in the bowl. This is where you sop the bread if need be. We usually do it even with fresh bread because it helps everything meld together. Cut the tomatoes into wedges and distribute over the bread. Do the same with the onion or shallot. Season with salt, pepper, and oregano. Drizzle with olive oil and balsamic vinegar, roughly 3:1 respectively. If you want feta, cut off a piece and crumble it up by hand, as fine as you like. Let it sit for a bit to absorb the flavors. We sometimes even use our [clean] hands to mash it roughly together so each piece of bread becomes imparted with all the flavors.
Grab a piece, make sure it’s got a bit of everything on it, and sink your teeth in. Amazing
N.B. I’m a huge fennel and tarragon fan—and I think those flavors would work here, as they do for a lot of light, refreshing Mediterranean fare. Give it a try!
wow, i’m salavating like an idiot right now. 😀
Hi Sarandi mou,
When I was a kid, your yia yia made this in the summertime, with plenty of tomatoes, onions, and oregano. In Koroni they call it “riganada”. It is peasant food, tho rich and poor enjoy it. In Crete, they eat it with Dokos paximadi. Same holds true in Mani. The paximadi was the staple of shepherds, who took to the mountains for days at a time to pasture their flocks in the warmer months of the year. It was bread that did not get moldy. But something tells me you already knew this.
If and when you visit Anavriti, it will make sense.
Kisses to you from your mama.