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Sardeles Pastes |
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While in the more populated towns like Mytilini, Kaloni, Eressos and Molyvos sardeles pastes are a regular feature on the summer menu, in the small village cafeneons they are considered a treat and not served every day. A rumor that Michalis is serving sardeles pastes at his cafeneon across the street is enough to make us jump up from our table at Tryphon's leaving half filled glasses of ouzo and half eaten plates of delicious food behind. | ||||||||||||||||||
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Here is my first Experience
with Sardeles Pastes
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My second experience with
Sardeles Pastes:
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...The second time through
town the Medusa Taverna looks
like it has possibilities. Pam
says that if we don't eat now
we could spend the rest of the
afternoon looking for a decent
restaurant. She volunteers to
go in and check out the menu
and comes back all
smiles.
In the refrigerated glass case
we see two trays overflowing
with fresh sardines' plus a
variety of other fish. We are
so excited we can hardly wait
to order. Then as I am gazing
into the kitchen I see on the
table a container of what
looks like sardeles pastes. I
ask the young
owner.
This is the moment I have been
waiting for and I sip my first
ouzo in preparation. I take a
small sardine by the tail, but
stop short. I have forgotten.
Do I eat the whole fish or do
I pull it between half closed
teeth, leaving the meat in my
mouth and pulling out the tiny
fish skeleton. I can feel the
pressure mounting as everyone
awaits my move. Even the
foreign couple at the next
table have taken an interest.
I can feel my heart beating
and the blood rushing in my
ears. It's sad how earthly pleasures can never live up to the desires that drive you towards them. I suppose that is the motivation for a life of the spirit, the belief that God or self knowledge is the only thing that will ultimately satisfy. All other goals and desires will end in disappointment. This is how I feel as I eat the first sardine and look woefully at the whole plateful before me. If they don't taste any better then this it will indeed be a long journey. The setting is perfect: the large bay, surrounded by green mountains, with the small fishing boats which had brought in these very fish this morning, bobbing gently in the small harbor before us. What had gone wrong? I eat another, but still no beating of angels wings or trumpets from heaven. Andrea smiles with enjoyment but I can tell it's not a smile from the depths of her soul, but one with a touch of sadness. A smile that says she is happy because I am happy but she's not that happy because these are not that great. I smile back weakly, not wishing to shatter her fragile happiness. Several cats have begun prowling the periphery of our table, like demons come to taunt us for our fruitless love of the flesh. I sacrifice one of the precious fish and give it to Amarandi to feed to one of the cats, but it turns up it's nose and looks at us with undisguised amusement. By now the other food has arrived and is truly delicious. I use it as a reward every time I have eaten a sardine, and it seems to work. In a few minutes my plate is littered with tiny sardine tails. Finally there is one left. I take a small sip of ouzo, leaving one mouthful left in the glass. Picking up the final sardeles pastes I put it to my lips, and slowly eat it down to the tail. Then I wash it down with the last of my ouzo. It's delicious! That last morsel was everything I had hoped it would be, like the unexplainable sweetness in that last bite of an ice-cream sundae. Either the aura of sardeles pastes was completely psychological or I had been eating them incorrectly. I try to review the previous bites to see what I had done wrong. It must have something to do with the little ouzo ceremony I did for that last sardine, I am convinced. Once again I am caught in it's spell and I go into the restaurant to bargain with the woman in the kitchen. I must have more. How much will she sell me? She tells me to come back in an hour. I spend the time on the end of the dock looking out across the bay of Kaloni. "How many sardines are out there?" I wonder. the sea is surprisingly rough for such a closed area. I turn towards the inner harbor and look at the fishing boats, all ten to fifteen feet long and brightly colored, their nets piled on the decks. How exciting it must be when they come into port each morning full of sardines. I imagine their sailors calling out their prices to the people on the shore. Then my eyes fall upon a very strange boat. In design it is like all the others, traditional Greek caique, except instead of the simple colorful painted hull, this boat is painted like an African disco. On one side of the bow is a strange mask where it's name should be. On the small cabin is written 'Peace', and the designs are wild and zigzagged. It is the only non-conforming boat in the entire Kaloni sardine fleet and I wonder about it's captain. Is he a black African who has made his home here and been accepted by the locals? Unlikely. More likely he is a free spirited young man, probably considered crazy by the other fishermen, with a taste for reggae or African pop. But it's as strange a sight here as John Lennon's psychedelic Rolls Royce must have been to London in the sixties. It takes all types to be sardine fishermen I suppose.
When I return to the
restaurant the woman gives me
a container of pastes. She
charges me a thousand
drachma. When we get back to Xidera I can hardly wait to bring the sardeles pastes to the two cafeneons where we have been spending all of our time. I bring the container into Thanasis and put half of them on a plate, then give the rest to Avglaia. They both begin peeling them and soon every table has a plate in on it. Thanasis has taken each fish by the tail and torn it down the middle, then covered them in oil. Avglaia has covered hers in oil too but has not torn them and of the two methods of serving them we find hers to be the most delicious. We discover two very important things about sardeles pastes. The first is that they are much better seasoned with oil, salt and pepper and whatever else appeals to your taste. The other is that they are much better if you don't eat the bones. As we leave, the old men in both cafeneons toast me. "Bravo Matheos. Congratulations. You are truly a hero. These are very good sardeles pastes." |
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