Crete's Culinary Sanctuaries Articles by Nikki Rose

Crete's Culinary Sanctuaries

Culture Shock
Printed by Slow Food, 2003

by Nikki Rose

I returned to my homeland of Washington, DC recently, after living in the mountains for
three years -- not the Blue Ridge but the Lassithi in Crete.

Many new trends had developed: the art of drinking coffee while walking was one. Lunch
hours had been cut to minutes and people circled office blocks while consuming hot dogs,
pizza or fancy wrap sandwiches. Stress levels seemed so magnified; people were rushing
through life whether they needed to or not.

Dining in decent restaurants resembled a fast-food experience -- hardly enjoyable as
people seemed obligated to scrape their plates in 12 minutes or less. I felt uncomfortable
for adjusting to the Greek way of nibbling and chatting for two or three hours. Granted, I
still had a stressful job, but somehow the rest of it was different. I had never been accused
of being normal when I lived in DC, but now I was hopelessly out of the loop. Had sitting or
socializing while eating been banned? I was relieved to find that my family and friends
were dining illegally-slowly whenever they had the chance.

A new gourmet mega-market had finally opened in my old neighborhood, a welcome
improvement as we had suffered for decades in a culinary dead zone just north of the
financial district. Feeling the need for specialized psychoanalysis after shopping at the old
ball-and-chain, where seemingly nice people became monsters upon crossing its
threshold, and the sight of the wilting produce could bring one to tears, THE market was
the salvation we'd been waiting for.

On my first visit, I entered with great anticipation, along with my chef-buddy visiting from
New York. The produce section was a glorious sight with a sparkling rainbow of crisp
vegetables piled to the ceiling. Signs designating ‘conventionally cultivated’ and ‘organic’
hung above the unconfirmed good stuff and bad stuff. Organic dandelion greens...
incredible! We reserve a whole day to collect and prepare wild greens back at my new
digs. I embarked on a manic shopping spree: leeks, dandelion, arugula, Swiss chard,
radishes, petite this, petite that. Then it hit me, the price of organic carrots. My friend from
New York doesn't embarrass easily, but when I gasped at the carrots and dramatically
barreled out that $600 per pound was a bit steep, his face developed the red glow of
hydroponic tomatoes.

Once I had a small audience, I rattled off my views on the state of the unsustainably
cultivated union ... Now I know why people don't have time to cook, they have to work
overtime to pay for organically cultivated weeds. Granted, it's a struggle to grow organic in
a world smothered in toxins, but some prices seemed extreme and certainly beyond the
average person's budget, namely mine. I opened the debate on how big the gap is
between what struggling organic farmers make and what THE market is raking in. My
friend nervously glanced over his shoulder, either anticipating a confrontation with a
security guard or scanning the escape routes.

Back in the hills of my new home base, my partner and I buy the most heavenly olive oil
I've ever tasted from the guy who makes it -- straight from the village factory spigot. We
have to make an appointment, which means we let him know we're coming and hope he'll
be there, stay for dinner, kiss the children and load up the trunk with luscious liquid gold
that costs $3 a liter. I was thrilled to see the fine selection of olive oils at THE market. I
also hoped that people were buying it because I know olive growers deserve all the
meager local currency they earn. Besides, it's good for you, most everyone aside from the
dairy or peanut board says so.

My friend and I lingered beside the fountain of youth stocks for a moment to see what hot
brands were being swooped up. People came by and carefully inspected bottles and
prices. Some were suckered into a half-liter of French marketing mastery in a pretty bottle
on sale for $18. Most people just gazed at the selection, looked confused and walked
away. The house brand, described as simply Italian extra-virgin cold-pressed, was
reasonably priced. Sold! Three cheers to THE Market for making E.V.C.P.O.O. accessible
to the people. A lot of robust Greek olive oil is shipped off in bulk to Italy to be combined
with their lighter varieties then bottled and branded as an Italian product. Good, then
perhaps we're doing our bit for the farmers of two nations at once, if they're getting a fare
share of the deal.

I thought we'd try a nice roast salmon or halibut for dinner. My friend, a confessed
carnivore, said that fish would be lovely as a first course. We glanced at the impressive
offerings of Poseidon's treasures. OK, at these prices, people like us don't do first
courses. Next to the gleaming seafood counter were stacks of little containers of octopus
salads and such. Who's buying these exotic delicacies? Are they transformed into
fabulous specials at the eleventh hour by THE catering department? Since we both
cooked for a living, we're prone to speculate on such things.

We stepped lightly towards the bustling meat counter. The lamb shanks just leaped out at
us, haven't made them in ages. Time-consuming to prepare, but we'd make the time. Just
a decade ago, lamb shanks were about as popular as pig's feet here, a flavorful dish
appreciated only by those in the know, something most people imagined was consumed
without silverware by Henry VIII or Fred Flintstone. Today, the price for six meaty bones
was the equivalent of my daily salary. No truffles included. As we were planning a special
event, THE market butcher enjoyed an easy sale. I made the mistake of letting my friend
go to the wine section alone while I went in search of cannellini beans to accompany our
hopefully exquisite braised lamb shanks. We studied wines in school, so I thought he'd be
savvy. The Châteauneuf-du-Pape was a bargain for employed CEOs, but do people like
us deserve an ounce or two? Indeed we do. We also stopped off at the fabulous cheese
section and picked up a few small samples to tide us over while the shanks were braising.

Mission accomplished, we browsed a bit to see what else was on offer in this vast temple
of health and well being. One isle was lined with little vials of potions assuring the secrets
to immortality; Asian remedies for every modern ailment, oils for massage, aromatherapy
and what not. Can't one just toss a few sprigs of spearmint in the bath, as the great
Roman emperors had done, and call it a day?

Two women were having a serious chat about this expansive ancient-turned-new-age
medicine cabinet. A glance at their shopping basket didn't coincide with their mission.
Processed food. Not even so much as a bunch of fresh parsley sprouting from the pile of
cardboard and shimmering wrapping paper. Organic labeling, mind you, but lab food
nonetheless. Boxes from the sub-zero department containing all-healthy meals made with
love in a big (pristine?) warehouse. Nutrient-packed sweet-potato and eggplant chips fried
in clinically approved oil were tucked into eco-friendly bags with photos of a pure and
beautiful landscape. Trenton didn't look like that the last time I passed through.

Full stop. We have become so processed we don't even notice it any more. It has crept up
on us gradually and now we can't live without it. First we were told we wanted bright white
flour and stripped rice, but cheese must be orange. Then we had to have bland but
blemish-free apples and pears. I hoped these lost souls searching for holistic health in
three easy steps were not punishing themselves with powdered energy drinks instead of a
decent fresh fruit salad and a handful of almonds. A couple of years ago, muscle builders
in a can were reserved for the niche market gym-lords. The irony of competitive sport,
when the intention to become the picture of health is sometimes negated by the desire to
be Hercules. Conjuring up the allure of synthetically-produced biceps beyond the
rationale of Hippocrates or Popeye, marketing is intended to triumph over common sense
and doctor's orders.

Back in the sticks, Greece is not a nation of healthaholics, per se, even though the
miracle Mediterranean Diet studies stemmed from here and their health stats and magical
culinary combos are still on the ‘best of this planet’ list. Many Greeks still maintain a close
connection to agriculture, are aware of their food sources and quality, can easily identify a
real tomato and may even climb mountains to enjoy decent food. As for mega-
agribusiness food safety scares, no one's exempt. All the more reason to maintain good
relations with the shepherd!

Generation X is much the same everywhere these days with international chain-expansion
and cool ad campaigns, so Greek teens are happily surfing the processed food wave
when their grandmothers aren't looking. Gotta unload those GM corn tortillas somewhere
in this world— they last forever don't they? One can only hope that a remedy will be
discovered before the powerful lab food marketing bug spreads across the globe.

As we approached THE market check-out counter, my heart started to beat out my chest,
thinking of the price we'd have to pay for all this good living. The cashier gave me a funny
glance...lots of stuff to weigh...she mumbled, looking at the piles of fresh produce tumbling
onto the conveyer belt. I felt as though we were supposed to apologize for not buying
neatly packaged, invisible-chef gourmet items with a handy label to scan. Should I explain
that I already enjoy enough bad habits, still legal in this country unless I'm operating
heavy machinery or ignore designated-area signs, and my love of good food does not
permit laboratory cuisine to be on my vice list?

A large single-malt scotch came to mind while trapped between the rumbling front line of
conveyor belts, rolling out more organic chips, pre-made hummus, tabbouleh and
containers of limp lettuce from THE salad bar, surely fresh at some point, now
decomposing from exposure, handled and mangled by the masses. Clanging bottles of
ginseng and green tea cocktails with very cool rain forest labeling, 500 times more
expensive than a little tin of the straight stuff, indicated there's no time for tea. Watson,
that's why the produce is so expensive, it's simply for show.

My musings were interrupted. For once, I unintentionally made a scene with the cannellini
beans I had gathered from the bulk organic legumes section. I just put some in a bag and
threw them in my basket—wrong! The cashier scolded me, I was supposed to have
followed THE instructions and attached a code-label for this item from that section. The
hydroponic tomato glow started to form on my cheeks. I apologized profusely, confessed
that I was from out of town and uninformed of THE market etiquette, but politely estimated
the price to be $600 per pound. I sure hope the organic farmers are getting a cut of this
action.

Prepared for the worst, my buddy handed over a plastic card representing payment of our
extravagant adventure and we headed toward the elevator, arguing about his demented
offer to bear the brunt alone. A young British couple joined us in the handy lift to the
parking lot, whispering while surveying their mountain of purchases. I was tempted to ask
what they thought of the prices here, but had stirred up enough crop dust for one day.

If THE market really is sharing the wealth with struggling farmers, I will gladly pay the
price. Sustainable organic farmers have been trying to tell us for years that the price of
their food is the real price of food. I’ll add “clean and safe” here. Subsidies for industrial
farming make this surreal. Even in the case of subsidies, farmers rarely receive THE
market share of our agribusiness. People supplying lab seeds, pesticides, machinery, or
processing have never united in the tens of thousands to fight for their livelihood on this
great city’s Mall. Only farmers have. If THE market is not supporting a sustainable
partnership with our farmers, should we, the consumers, sit back and accept this? At the
least, we can actively push for more farmers’ markets in Washington so that we know we
are directly supporting the people dedicated to supplying us with clean and safe food.