Δε το παίζω δύσκολη με το φαγητό, αλλά το συγκεκριμένο πιάτο δύσκολα θα με γραπώσει απ'τη μέση. Θες ότι το γιαούρτι μπορεί να μην είναι στραγγιστό, ή το σκόρδο λίγο; Να έχουν παραβράσει (όπως συχνά συμβαίνει) και η μπουκιά να χυλώνει στο στόμα;  Όπως και να'χει, το μαν-τί (ξεχωριστά προφέρουμε το ν και το τ) είναι το λατρεμένο ζυμαρικό της Πόλης και βασικά της Τουρκίας ολάκερης. Και γίνεται και δικό μου αγαπημένο, όταν η τύχη σηκώνει τη φούστα της και μου αποκαλύπτει έναν καλό ουστά που ξέρει να το μαγειρεύει τέλεια!
Το γενεαλογικό δέντρο του τούρκικου ραβιολιού φτάνει μέχρι την Κίνα και η λέξη mantı έχει τις ρίζες της στον κορεατικοκινεζικό όρο mantou. Σύμφωνα λοιπόν με τους Τούρκους τσελεμεντέδες, το μαν-τί ήταν ήδη γνωστό απ'τον 13ο αι. στη Μέση Ανατολή, ενώ διακόσια χρόνια αργότερα απέκτησε περίοπτη θέση στους σουλτανικούς σοφράδες και στο μενού των χαοτικών κουζινομαγεριών στο παλάτι του Τοπ Καπί. Και για του λόγου το αληθές, ο μικροκαμωμένος σουλτάνος Φατίχ Μεχμέτ, ήθελε λέει, να βλέπει πιάτα να ξεχειλίζουν με μαντί -κρατηθείτε- στο πρωινό του, πέντε φορές την εβδομάδα! Τις υπόλοιπες δύο, έκανε διατροφή.

ο σοφράς του πολυχρονεμένου

Βιβλία και οδηγοί μαγειρικής μας λένε ότι τουλάχιστον 36 είδη του ζυμαρικού αυτού κυκλοφορούν στις σύγχρονες κουζίνες σπιτιών και εστιατορίων, αλλά το θεοποιημένο είναι ένα: της Καισάρειας, αυτό με τη γέμιση πρόβειου κιμά...(σλουρπ). Αν αναρωτιέστε όμως πώς έφτασε από την Κίνα μέχρι τη γείτονα χώρα το ζυμαρένιο αυτό πουγκάκι, βάλτε το σκηνοθέτη μέσα σας να οργιάσει: Νευρώδη και δυνατά άλογα με Μογγόλους καβαλάρηδες κατευθύνονται δυτικά, με σκοπό να επεκτείνουν την γιγάντισσα αυτοκρατορία των Μογγόλων. Μπροστά πάει ο Τσένγκιζ Χαν, ιδρυτής και αυτοκράτορας. Μακρύς ο δρόμος, απελπιστική η κούραση. Κάποτε πρέπει και να φάνε. Οι ίδιες σκηνές επαναλαμβάνοται σχεδόν εκατό χρόνια αργότερα, με ηγέτη τον Μογγόλο Τιμούρ. Σκοπός αυτή τη φορά, να λογαριαστούν με τους ανερχόμενους Οσμανλήδες. Ναι, αλλά τι τρώνε, δε σας είπα. Μαν-τί  άλλο; Ανάβουν οι φωτιές, τοπουθετούνται τα καζάνια, βράζει το νερό και μέσα σ'αυτό τα γεμιστά ραβιόλια της Μέσης Ανατολής. "Απορώ με το Θεό, που άφησε τον κόσμο σε έναν κουτσό σαν και μένα, με έναν τυφλό σαν και του λόγου σου", είπε ο Τιμούρ σαρκαστικά, μασαμπουκιάζοντας μαν-τί, στον αιχμάλωτό Οσμανλή Γιλντιρίμ Μπέγιαζιτ, προπάππου του Φατίχ Μεχμέτ. Όσο για αυτά που έκανε ο ψυχασθενής Τιμούρ στη γυναίκα του Μπέγιαζιτ, μπροστά στα άτυχα μάτια του τελευταίου, είναι τελείως άσχετα με το πιάτο, ελπίζω μόνο να μην το έφαγε λίγο πριν, ή αμέσως μετά...

ο αιχμάλωτος Μπέγιαζιτ και ο αμείλικτος Τιμούρ των Μογγόλων Stanislaw Chlebowski

Κι ας έρθουμε στους Οσμανλήδες του 15 αι. πια, που μπορεί να ξεφορτωθήκαν μια για πάντα τους Μογγόλους, δεν έκαναν το ίδιο όμως με το ραβιόλι τους...Στον ατμό το μαγείρευαν αρχικά κι εκτός από κιμά, τους άρεσε να προσθέτουν ρεβύθια, φασόλια και τέλοσπάντων όσπρια. Και πάντα μα πάντα, το νόστιμο ραβιόλι είχε αυτοκρατορική θέση στο ανοιξιάτικο μενού των σαραγιών της Πόλης.
Ακόμα και τώρα μαγειρεύεται στον ατμό, αλλά όχι μόνο: και το φουρνίζουν, και το τηγανίζουν! Το πιο κοπιαστικό κομμάτι της διαδικασίας όμως, είναι η ίδια η παρασκευή του...Αν θέλετε να με ακούσετε, μια μέρα που τα νεύρα σας θα είναι τσατάλια, πάρτε την εξελιγμένη σουλτανική συνταγή και ξεκινήστε:

ζύμη
- 3 ποτήρια νερού αλεύρι
- 2 όμορφα αυγά
- 1 ποτήρι νερό
- λίγο αλάτι

γέμιση
- 500 γρ. προβειο κιμά
- λίγο μαύρο πιπέρι, λίγες νιφάδες κόκκινο πιπέρι (και το μπούκοβο μας κάνει)

σος
- βούτυρο
- μπούκοβο
- προαιρετικά μισό κουταλάκι γλυκού πάστα ντομάτας

- στραγγιστό γιαούρτι που θα αραιωθεί με 3-4 κουταλιές ζωμού
- 3 σκελίδες σκόρδου λιωμένες (για όσους έχουν ψύχωση με το σκόρδο όπως εγώ, βάλτε παραπάνω)

Πάρτε το σκεύος που χρησιμοποιείτε για να φτιάξετε ζύμες και αδειάστε μέσα το αλεύρι. Με τα δάχτυλά σας κάντε μια γούρνα στο κέντρο και αφήστε τα αυγά να γλυστρίσουν μέσα εκεί. Προσθέστε και το μισό νερό και αρχίστε να ζυμώνετε. Σιγά σιγά ρίχνετε και το υπόλοιπο νερό και παιδεύετε το μείγμα μέχρι να σας μείνει στα χέρια μια ελαστική, σαν λωβός αυτιού απαλή ζύμη που δεν κολλάει στα δάχτυλα. Σκεπάστε με νωπή πετσέτα και δώστε της λίγο χρόνο να συνειδητοποιήσει τι έχει συμβεί για τουλάχιστον μισή ώρα.

Με πλάστη ανοίγετε τη ζύμη σε αλευρωμένη επιφάνεια και αφού την λεπτύνετε αρκετά, κόβετε κάθετα και οριζόντια με μαχαίρι έτσι ώστε να δημιουργηθούν ζυμαρένια τετραγωνάκια. Το μέγεθος τους το αφήνω σε σας και στην υπομονή σας, πάντως σίγουρα δεν πρέπει να είναι τεράστια. Στο μεταξύ έχετε ήδη ενώσει τα υλικά της γέμισης, και τσιμπώντας όσο θα τσιμπούσε κι ένα μέτριο πουλάκι με το ράμφος του, τόση γέμιση τοποθετείτε στο κέντρο κάθε τετραγώνου. Τέλος, ενώνετε τις άκρες τους και πιέζοντας τες ελαφρά, τις κολλάτε. Βουαλά, τα τούρκικα ραβιολόπουγκά σας.

Σε αλατισμένο ζωμό κοτόπουλου ή νερού που βράζει, εγκαταλείπετε τα μαν-τί και μόλις σταθούν για τα καλά στην επιφάνεια του νερού, σουρώνετε κρατώντας λίγο από το νερό που έβρασαν. Σε ένα ζεσταμένο τηγάνι κάψτε λίγο βούτυρο -όσο πιο φρέσκο και μυρωδάτο, τόσο το καλύτερο- και τσιγαρίστε μπούκοβο, κι αν θέλετε, και μισό κουταλάκι πάστα ντομάτας. Ανακατέψτε καλά στο τσιγάρισμα, έτσι ώστε η ένωση των υλικών να είναι απόλυτη και το μπούκοβο να βάψει με το χρώμα του το βούτυρο. Προσοχή γλυκούλια, το βούτυρο δεν πρέπει να καεί, αλλά να κάψει.

Σε ένα βαθύ πιάτο σερβίρετε τα μαντί και περιχύνετε πρώτα με 2-3 κουταλιές από το ζωμό και στη συνέχεια με το γιαούρτι, που έχει ενωθεί με το σκόρδο. Πάνω στο γιαούρτι ζωγραφίζετε με το μπουκοβένιο βούτυρο, όσο εσείς θέλετε, χωρίς ωστόσο υπερβολές. Κι αν τυχαίνει να έχετε και φρέσκο δυόσμο, ή έστω και ξερό, αυτή θα είναι η τελευταία σας πινελιά.




Καθίστε πάνω σε μαξιλάρες και φάτε σε χαμηλό τραπέζι. Για το πιάτο αυτό, ένα χορταστικό κουτάλι είναι ο άνθρωπό σας. Κρατήστε και κάποιον όμηρο για παρέα, αν και με τέτοιο μαν-τί, θα σας παραδοθούν με τεμενάδες. Αφιγιέτ ολσούν!

* οι πληροφορίες για την ιστορία του mantı ξεζουμίστηκαν από την εφημερίδα Habertürk, 29-07-12 και από το σούπερ μπλογκ φαγητού http://benimyemekkitabim.blogspot.com/


*  η φωτογραφία "ο σοφράς του πολυχρονεμένου" είναι δανεική από: http://www.yazmavakti.com/2010/08/26/sultanin-mutevazi-sofrasi/

Have you ever thought about it? Freedom can also be found in food. More particularly, freedom of a different kind of expression that affects the mood, surprises daily routine and adds passion to the restless palate. What we experience most through it, however, is us... A recall of ourselves that sometimes might challenge even the ego.

The friedge was empty. We've just moved to a new house; chores, routine responsibilities, plus the hot summer...Dreaming of a Greek island was the only escape I could use while I had to hang the curtain of our vintage and madly orange tiled bath; but first I had to buy one, then find someone to open holes on the wall in order to place the curtain bar... Actually, because of our tensed, antsy and shattered attitude, the task appeared rather unbearable. The daily problems of western civilizations sound like fun to others...Well, the friedge was empty.




Hold on! Something green seemed to move in the last shelf of the friedge; green, fresh beans!
Pfffff, without tomatoes, what, how...? So much pain! I closed the friedge door in sorrow. I opened it again proving that I lie every time when I say I don't believe in miracles. There was a second element I didn't notice at the first place: 3 eggs! Hmmm, and there is also onion and garlic. Garlic is everywhere actually, even under my pillow. Asparagus, I now know how to survive without you...




I chopped the onion in small, equal pieces, you can add spring onion in larger pieces as well, smash as much garlic as you wish -I used 2 cloves- and I saute, with the same order I chopped them, in gorgeous Cretan olive oil. However, I cooked the beans in salty, boiling water for 50 seconds first and then put them in a bawl with cold water. This way, you boost the green colour of the beans and you allow them to stay stif and crunchy! I dried them and as soon as the onions and the garlic were ready, I send the beans to my pan. You can also add the garlic right after the beans, actually it is even better.

I whisked my 3 eggs, I added rock salt and black pepper, I whisked once more and I covered the content of my pan with the yellow gang. I lowered the heat, made sure that the eggs reached every inch of the pan, sprinkled some goat cheese on the top and cooked as long as my omlet wouldn't lose its humidity. Preserving humidity can be really crucial for the success of some dishes, as it is the safest way to reach all the cells of our palate and keep the taste alive. I served immediately without folding my precious omlet and I suggest you do the same. It is very pleasant to watch green beans in such a rare position.

To my surprise, my dear friend Boğaç told me that the people of Black Sea use to make omlet with the first string beans of the season. As they also use tomatoes, flour etc., it sounds quite different. It was a great luck to run out from tomatoes. As a Greek living in Turkey, I never had the chance to taste those beans out of the ordinary ambience. I had already the sweetness of the onion and the beauty of the garlic. Tomato would make the dish sounds blathering and apart from that, I believed in them without tomato's boosting; and beans didn't mislead me: the taste was original, fleshy and absolutely satisfying. The only issue is that this dish carries zero memories for me. Again, while I was trying to get to know it better, I suddenly felt as it was someone I used to know...

 Due to their quiet and well behaved appearance, I never found the courage to built strong bonds with them; but their taste always made me happy. The only thing that used to bother me was the person from whom we were getting them. Every summer my aunts were excited to treat us vacation in a small village close to Nafplio, Iria; and that unpleasant 'person' was the owner of the rooms and the artichoke fields. She loved to make gossip about everyone and everything, more than this, she used to make bleak jokes about peoples' weight and bodyshape. Whenever she saw me, she welcomed me to her rental flats with the same sentence for at least 13 years "Stavriani, is it me or you gained weight this year? I heard that you eat all your food, hahahaha..." It is one of the most common jokes you can hear repeatidly in Greece, and will eternaly exist. As for me, I would just say "pfffff" and shrug my shoulders. Sometimes, vacation at Iria had been very stressful, as the possibility of meeting her by chance could turn into her shouting something about my hips. What kind or response could I possibly give to such a discriminative teasing? After all, one of the first things that we are taught as children is to respect older people; but respect is a feeling, not a privilage of any kind of status; can you imagine that because of  her, the intimacy between me and artichoke is still in progress?


Artichoke has been an inspiration for many delicate dishes and she definitely belongs to the category of the V.I.P vegetables; she is special for the Greek palate -plainly served, boiled with a light sauce of lemon and virgin olive oil, or more official, slowly cooked lamb haunch with a rousing sauce of dill, spring onions and lemon; and they are only two ways, among hundreds, to enjoy artichoke's waltz while slipping in your mouth.
Since lamb is also at its peak of flavour, I thought how badly I've missed a well cooked lamb rump with artichokes. The ingredients that you will need are: a lamp leg about two kilos cut in medium pieces with the bone, 8 whole artichokes with their stems if it's possible, one chopped onion, a bunch of small diced dill and a bunch of big diced spring onions; for the sauce that will be added at the end, the juice of two rich lemons and two eggs, orange zest and diced dill for the garnish.

Heat a comfortable pot, add some olive oil and saute the meat. After 7-8 minutes add the onion and a little bit later the spring onions. Salt and black pepper; don't show mercy on the last. As soon as the onions give in to the heat, fill the pot with water until the meat is almost covered, add a few big drops of olive oil, cover the pot and cook at a low heat for one hour. When the meat gets softer, add the artichokes and cook at the same heat for 30 minutes. Open the pot, remove from the heat and get ready for the sauce, the most heartbeating part of the dish! In a bowl whisk the egg white in a calm way. Do the same thing for the yellow part as well and then unite and continue whisking. It is very important at this level to keep sending kisses to your mixture; it is a tip -and an unexplained mystery at the same time- that helps the sauce to bodybuild. Add the lemon juice slowly and don't stop whisking; finally, add stoically 2-3 ladles of the pot stock to the lemon-egg mixture and watch the sauce becoming a foamy explosion, just like the one that is created when a wave crashes on the rocks. Add in the pot the diced dill and stir extremely gently. Apply the sauce to the pot, cover it, and move it in circles for 4-5 seconds, so the lemon reaches every inch of the stock. Serve a piece of lamb and two artichokes and feed it with the foamy sauce. Sprinkle some diced dill and orange zest.


 Although we did everything to make her smile, artichoke's attidude is still powerfull and distant...Even the lamb is reluctant to compete her. As a queen that she is, she appears in public only when defined by the protocol; and after serving her duties, she vails hersef again. She is there for her people, often her name is mentioned, but nobody has really the chance to be close to her; and this is how an atrichoke rules a dish.

*Marianna Kavroulaki, "The language of taste" (Gourmand Award 2012)

One of the most important food blogs of Greece, Tastefull, made a surprize to its readers and followers; Viki Koumantou, the creator of the blog, suggested düğün çorbası (turkish wedding soup) instead of magiritsa, the all-time classic and beloved dish of Greek Easter and gave some new thoughts for food to the lovers of her cuisine. To be honest, she replaced - in a very creative way - the traditional Easter soup with a turkish dish, that not only fits perfectly to the Greek taste, but also to the spirit of the holiday itself. The secret is that both recipes share lamb as the ingredient in leading role.


Well, since Viki made düğün çorbası, Ι will cook magiritsa for you, using the recipe of the greatest cook in my family, aunt Stamatina. It's hard to imagine how a soup could be so emotional. Then, I thought "Come on, it would be a crime to break the fast without serving a dreaming spaghetti with shrimps and two different dishes of mussel stew in the middle"; and just before magiritsa soup, the queen of Easter, shows up in all her jewelery in order to close the food marathon, we will dye our eggs red and spread touching smells in the neighborhood by baking Easter breads, the most promising taste of the holiday. This beautiful procedure is not necessarily a menu for the Easter. Whenever you want to turn a common day into an unrecorded celebration, Easter menu can still stand for your mood. After all, gastronomical traditions are not supposed to put strain on us, nor are celebrations to limit the chances of our mouths' palate. As for the last, Viki made it happen!

No matter how religious is the ambience of Easter holiday, what is litteraly celebrated is the resurrection of Nature and all this sweet excitement that is brought along. Trees, mountains, rivers, and all the living bodies are the ones that come to life in order to give life back. Indeed, the sound and the scent of this show-off rebirth is so powerfull that I often need to repeat to myself : "Save yourself from the louse and the spring evenings." (Nazim Hikmet)

                                          Scented holiday to everyone!

That is why I love Greek kitchen savagely; because, She grew up with neighbors of great cuisine cultures (It must have been more fun in spite of historiography). After all, the only painless side of the Baroque times wars' was the coexistence of food habits and the birth of gastronomic miracles from their combination. One of those is stifado and it really makes me cry to talk about it.


The ingredients in leading role are the pearly shallots, melancholic bay leaf, peacemaker cinnamon, and my biggest obsession, the dominant whole allspice. And if you're mumbling, "Alright, nice story, but what stifado is? We're dying to hear!" then, I'm bringing you back to life. Just a few seconds ago, I mentioned the neighbors of Greek cuisine and at this point I welcome Italy to the stage. Dear taste nuns and monks, stifado is a way of cooking and the term comes from the Latin verb extufare*, which etymologically derives from the Greek ancient term tyfos and it means steam. In other words, stifado is the food that has been cooked in steam, as the water to be used is very, very little. At least, this is how it must have started...


Although is not a regularly served dish, it is enough to say, "I will make for stifado on Sunday" to see all your beloveds reunited around your table. It will be impossible to turn down such a call, even for the coolest friend or family. It's that simple! Because, those chic onions are so nostalgically sweet and so provoking at the same time, that only a cold blood could stay out of this (It can be cooked and used also as a harmless weapon to detect the cold bloods of your close milieu).


For such a devilish project, the first thing that you have to do is to decide about the flesh type you want to use. Well, I think that for a sophisticated stifado, rabbit or octopus are the best choices; some of you, though, might not be so adventurous and fearless to prefer them. So, I got beef for you! Eventually, you will fall apart and try those guys too. It is time that you need.


Entrecote is fine if you don't fancy boned parts. Cut the meat into generous pieces, make small cuts and stuff with garlic, season with salt and spoil with black pepper. Place the beef and the rest of the spices at the same pan and saute in olive oil until it gets brown. Now smell, smell greedily. If the burning meat, boosted by the aroma of the whole allspice, do not succeed to penetrate your emotions, I shall never eat stifado again! Suffocate the meat in red wine; dry or sweet, both will behave! And just before wine fades away, add 5-6 diced organic tomatoes, one tablespoon tomato paste for color if you want to overreact, definitely some more heavy drops of olive oil, very few boiled water and cook at a very low heat.

While the beef is being cooked, you can hang out with the shallots (If you want a strong flavor make sure that they are hard before you buy them). Heat a pan, add olive oil, season the onions with salt while you saute and find yourself in a incredible scent festival for five minutes. Remove from heat. Let them wait until beef becomes soft enough and place shallots in the pot that the meat has been cooked. Cook no longer than ten minutes, as we don't want to see the pretty onions losing their shape.

My weird aunties and grannies used to serve this dish plainly, exactly as it comes out from the pot. Indeed, stifado was already a big deal of its own. This dish always brought solemnity into our kitchen and its presence on the table used to cause a reverent silence for a few minutes. But me, I enjoy spoiling my beloveds, in the same way all these sweet women use to spoil me and my brothers. So, I arranged an escort more for stifado, rice. All in all, if it weren't for the people I love, my food would have no place to go...

* The etymological information about the origin of the term stifado, came from the forthcoming publication of the awarded food writer Marianna Kavroulaki's "Η περιπέτεια της Ελληνικής διατροφής" ( The quest for Greek nutrition) by the Εστία (Estia) publishing house.