In search of the good stuff, we are to hunt and gather through the capital's buzzing market streets. Guiding us is Carolina Doriti, Athens bureau chief for Culinary Backstreets and author of ”Salt of the Earth," a cookbook set for release in spring 2023. She writes beautifully in the English language, apparently possessing a kind of mental flypaper for grammar and vocabulary. Imagine growing up in one language and becoming not only proficient in another, but able to develop a refined voice on the page. I guess Nabokov would be the ideal example. A cheery, curious couple from Los Angeles makes four. I could not have picked a better group.
Many history lessons and small plates await. The five-and-a-half hour walk features a slight emphasis on so-called "superfoods," but not distractingly so. As we begin our stroll into the Psiri neighborhood, a train trundles past the Museum of the Ancient Agora.
Steps away we encounter the Stoa Poikile, where an American team continues to excavate at the birthplace of the philosophical school of Stoicism. The restaurant at left has been purchased or otherwise appropriated, according to the Greek press (but the shallow part facing the street is still open!). Nothing, it seems, can stop the meticulous cataloging of the city's ancient past, which is revealed to 21st-century sunlight at a reliable depth of 15 to 20 feet almost everywhere you go in Athens.
Christmas decorations are already going up in Psiri, alternatively presented as Psyri, Psyrri, Psirri, depending on the whims of the transliterator.
Our first stop is at Koulouri of Psirri (Karaiskaki 23), a specialty shop that makes one thing very well, a theme common to this part of the world where West meets East. A shop that sells only doorknobs, a storefront that carries only kitchen scales, etc. I noticed this in Istanbul. The koulouri is a simple circle of bread, "a Greek bagel," as Carolina puts it. I wouldn't hold it up against the chewy rings at Montreal's St-Viateur, but after a night of starving myself in anticipation of this day, they hit just right.
Next stop is Bouggatsadiko Psirri (Platia Iroon 1), which concentrates on little "pies" called bougatsa, made with paper-thin phyllo dough. Some are are filled with meat, others with semolina custard, and the custom here is to cut them into bite-sized pieces before serving. My stomach again shakes my hand.
To take a brief break, Carolina leads us into the Holy Church of St. Demetrius at Psyrri, an oasis from the Athenian bustle at Ag. Dimitrou 13. Its caretaker patted me on the arm as he walked past.
Carolina points out a rare representation of a black Madonna (and black Jesus, naturally). She described it as showing Mary emerging unscathed from a fire, Daenerys Targaryen-style. My sense is that this is still an unsettled issue ― for some reason there are a bunch of these in southern France ― but it's the first one I've seen in the wild and am grateful for her pointing it out.
The tour at this point veers even more into speculation as we taste a variety of honeys at Kolios, a shop at 51 Athinas St. Here we open our beaks like baby birds as Stella, a proprietress, feeds us tastes of almost-black honey produced by bees who feed on the sap of trees, lighter honey gleaned by bees from wild bushes on the island of Ikaria, and grains of raw pollen. We hear of "Blue Zones" and antioxidant properties.
There is a long-established correlation between Mediterranean diets and longevity. I suppose honey could be part of that, but I'd need to see the evidence. I am more interested with how things taste, and on that front, Kolios seems ready to deliver. Everything here looks amazing. Are those carob cookies at bottom right?
Look at these bricks of nutty, sweet halva, for instance. I don't think anyone would recommend them if you aspire to live to 100, but I guess the lesson of Kolios is that you can have it all. Friendly people, great spot.
I ask Carolina if it ever snows in Athens.
"Every year," she says without hesitation, which surprises me in this seaside city near the southern tip of Europe's southernmost nation, where literally "the wind blows in from Africa," as Joni Mitchell sings in "Carey." The city is full of surprises.
Everywhere we trek today, huge trays of nuts and sweets beckon.
We are steered into Mokka (Athinas 44) and fuck yes, I could use a coffee. At right is a long-handled briki.
Before it reaches your table it is filled more than halfway with warm water and covered with a fine, lightly roasted grind. I vaguely remember a reference in "Jeanne Dielman" to the gentle wetting of coffee grounds in warm water, and our guide offers confirmation. Don't shock your grounds with cold water. The conversion to coffee takes place when the briki is nestled into hot sand (below). Carolina aptly describes the result as something "between coffee and tea." It is not a defibrillator-level espresso, but it does the job.
I really need to visit one of these juice shops.
As we pass the ruins of the Archanian Gate of the city's ancient wall, a vast square named for former Mayor Konstantino Kotzia opens up before us, home to city hall at far left.
Gravesites from antiquity lie open beneath Kotzia Square.
Perhaps Carolina's greatest gift to us today was to lead us into Stani (Marikas Kotopouli 10), one of Athens' last traditional dairy bars and a purveyor of just-churned butter, cheese pies, custard-filled pastries and velvety rich yogurts certain to have you rummaging for your stretchy pants. At left is moustalevria, whose base ingredient is juice from freshly pressed grapes. Traditionally, this raw, unfermented wine is filtered with wood ash, then cooked and thickened with flour, producing a semi-sweet pudding. It is sprinkled with ground walnuts and cinnamon. Having something this unfamiliar and delicious hit my palate robbed me of vocabulary. At right is a serving of traditional Greek yogurt (skin on) topped with walnuts and a healthy drizzling of honey. It is both tart and creamy, with the consistency of a clotted cream. It does a little Greek dance in your mouth. I bow my head in reverence. Renowned as Athens' best Greek yogurt, it's plausible to consider it the world's best Greek yogurt, right? Seems logical.
Another major mind-check is yet to come. Little round doughnuts sprinkled with cinnamon and garnished with sesame seeds. In some mad act of alchemy, these loukoumades have a crispy exterior, while inside they are soaked with a warm magma of honey syrup. Just insane. [Photo courtesy of Julia and Grant.]
Hole-less doughnuts fry away. Stani loyalists like them served with ice cream.
At the time of this writing, I have been in Athens only three days, but it's becoming increasingly clear that Carolina's tour is curated to the nth degree. These establishments ― all of them ― are seemingly without peer. A search of a better koulouri, a superior yogurt, a tastier pita souvlaki will probably come to nought. Few lost causes will be more fun, however.
Athens' slightly chaotic Central Food Market is our next stop. I have to believe this is one of Europe's biggest fish bazaars.
In a hallway of the fish arcade we belly up to the counter at Ouzeri Karayiannis, where Carolina presents us plates of vinegar- and garlic-marinated anchovies, mussels swimming in oil, olives, pepperoncini and little bits of tomato, along with a dried fish-egg condiment known as bottargo. Glasses of see-through ouzo turn cloudy when we drip water into them. All these strong flavors lean into one another.
Out come gilthead seabream filets, smoked trout and fat little pork dogs. Our guide suggests popping the trout and pork in our mouths at the same time, an option on nobody's bingo card, like consuming little complementary swirls of campfire smoke, albeit with different textures. It suddenly all makes sense.
The next thing I know, Carolina is serving us steamed calamari and cutting slices of some kind of dessert flavored with mastiha, from tree resin found only on a single island in the Aegean. I am eating and taking notes at the same time, so some of these particulars may be off. There don't seem to be any simple "h" sounds in Greek. They all come from the back of the throat ― so when you say "mastiha," the last syllable begins with a sound somewhere between an "h" and a "k."
I suggest making a visit to this place. I'd be a little intimidated about placing an order here, but the Greek people have been unfailingly patient and kind to me, so it's worth a shot.
Before heading back toward the street, we stroll through the market's arresting "Meat Hall."
Bringing us to Volvi Souvlaki (Euripidou 24), my first exposure to genuine pork souvlaki.
Below, Carolina explains how she became something of a souvlaki purist, going into more detail here. No garlicky yogurt sauce (tzaziki), no french fries. Just pork, red onion and tomato in a warm pita.
Her instincts are unerring. I despair of finding anything this good elsewhere in Athens.
The pork for this sandwich is sourced daily right down the hall. That may have something to do with it. I picked up the souvlaki below at O Giatros Tis Peinas (Ilia Iliou 59) yesterday, ordering it "with everything," and while better than anything I could get at home, it wasn't in the same galaxy as Volvi's.
Wobbling like a fat man on a tightrope now, I reach the sidewalk on fragrant Euripidou Street (derived from Euripides), where herb sellers are at work. Having been here, I cannot imagine visiting Athens now without making the Central Market one of your first stops. It's been kind of life-changing, to be honest.
On a street lined with little warehouses with roller shutters, we taste olives in various states of maturation. I'm real dumb when it comes to olives. I like the black ones we get in America that are meaty and kind of tasteless. Otherwise, all I get is an astringent sameness. The Californians' eyes light up, however, and they purchase a shit tonne (technical term) to take home. I have nothing but respect for their game.
You can pick up 2 pounds of olives here for as little as $3 to $4. They're practically free.
The Apari charcuterie shop at 41 Euripidou is an Athens favorite, and I believe is a supplier or is somehow closely associated with the nearby Karamanlidika by Fanis delicatessen down the street at No. 52.
We sample, among other things, smoked pork neck, salami from Lefkada island, peppercorn- and coriander-encrusted pastrami (called pastourma here), a Kasseri sheep milk cheese, a goat milk cheese from Ios that I believe is aged in wine casks. I am trying to be mindful, but the bites and info are coming fast and furious. Lest I forget: a truffle-flavored cheese, possibly from Naxos, and a sheep and goat cheese from Ithaca called tseberi.
Happily running on fumes now, we pass several inviting restaurants with outdoor seating before spilling back onto Monastriaki Square, where our quest began.
I look at my watch. It's a little after 3. We started at 9:30.
"Time for your nap," Carolina says with a smile. The lady's been right all day.
Culinary Backstreet Athens
Omonia Square
800-000-0053
$135
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