A Greek Salad to Remember
Making your own Tofu Feta helps to reconstruct this classic salad and make it vegan.
I’ve been thinking a lot about salad recently…in part because it is summer where I live, and salad just tastes great when the weather is hot and I can’t be bothered to spend hours in a scorching kitchen. The other part of me that’s drifting into everything salad has to do with Emily Nunn and her outstanding publication called The Department of Salad: Official Bulletin (be sure to check out this newsletter if you haven’t already). Emily posted a note recently asking readers for their opinion on memorable salads – I jumped in with my first thought…a Caesar Salad in Ensenada, Mexico (apparently the birthplace of this iconic salad). It was a great memory…and a tremendous salad. And then I thought a bit more about my salad memories…and a question came to mind that nearly caused me to hiccup…How on earth did I forget about the Greek salad that looked better, tasted better, and felt so incredibly right in the moment than any other salad…perhaps even meal…that I have ever experienced? I’m not sure…but to make me feel better, here’s a brief account of what made that salad so special!
Anyone visiting any part of Greece will quickly discover that Greek salad is a regular offering in every restaurant or taverna, regardless of location.
It’s a simple salad really. A typical serving arrives in a bowl that’s filled with tomatoes, cucumbers, sweet peppers (usually green and slightly bitter), thinly sliced red onions, olives, a pinch or two of dried wild oregano, a hint of vinegar, fruity extra virgin olive oil…and large quantities of feta cheese.
The list of ingredients can vary ever so slightly – sometimes capers are added, or the vinegar is left out, or fresh parsley is thrown in…you get the idea. But two crucial elements should never be excluded – context and quality of the ingredients.
The context part is, of course, impossible to reproduce…but it’s also the crucial part of a memory that never fades. The ingredients are also difficult to replicate. Weather, soil, water, and much more ultimately define the quality of that tomato…but those differences seem somewhat minor; there’s still a spark of hope inside every novice grower…or cook…to create or acquire a perfect tomato, pepper, or cucumber...
Ultimately, it’s the process of trying to make a perfectly adequate representation of a recipe that becomes the quest. Reliving the happy memories percolating in the brain during the quest becomes the feel-good bonus we all crave as humans.
My ultimate experience with a Greek salad occurred on the island of Naxos. It was a blistering hot day in mid-September. People were on edge and unsure of their future – a reaction to the terrorist attacks in America only 10 days earlier. We decided to escape for the day and explore the lesser-known parts of the island in the east. We ventured first to the rocky shores of the north, went through ancient olive groves in the center of Naxos, then ended up on a dirt road along the desert-like region of the eastern coast. It was hot, empty, and dusty…but we always had a view of the turquoise-colored Mediterranean Sea.
Along the sandy banks that sandwiched the dirt road was a sign that unexpectedly advertised a restaurant. The sign pointed us to the left and onto another dirt road – one that was even dustier than the main dirt road. The taverna seemed out of place…perhaps even from another era…but we were hungry and eager for an adventure. We arrived at a small wooden building with an open patio covered with palm fronds. No one was in sight, but amazingly, it seemed open.
We walked onto the patio. There were five or six square tables – each somewhat out of balance. The chairs were not inviting (who has an ass that small?), but the view was divine and the shade refreshing. We were greeted by a young man who looked like he should be spending time on a surfboard instead of greeting strangers in this remote part of Naxos. After several comical moments of speaking broken English, Greek and sign language, we discovered he just opened for the day and would be happy to make us some food. Excellent…although our expectations were relatively low. Nevertheless, the shady patio and lemon-scented water were welcome.
There was no menu. Our young waiter eventually told us there was a Greek salad and a kind of fish stew. We chose the salad, then we waited…and waited…and waited a bit more. Finally, our salads arrived after nearly 40 minutes and two pitchers of refreshing lemon-scented water that we could help ourselves to.
The visual appearance of the salad surprised and shocked us. The vegetables looked fresh and vibrant. They were cut into large chunks and mixed with large pieces of crumbly feta cheese that oozed a sort of milky substance. The portion filled a large blue bowl – something that would normally hold a week’s supply of fresh fruit on a kitchen counter somewhere. There were large black olives that were slightly shriveled. A side of dried wild thyme that grew everywhere in the region was served in a small bowl. I could even smell the greenish-colored olive oil that glistened on the cut vegetables.
And then I had my first bite…
The vegetables were warm like they had been sitting in the sun. The cheese was salty and creamy. It was the ultimate explosion of flavors in my mouth. Every taste bud in my mouth became aroused. How could something so simple taste so good?
I later found out that our server was the only one there. It was his place. He harvested the vegetables used in the salad to order from his garden out back. The feta was made from a neighboring farm about 10 miles away. A small cooperative in the middle of this small island produced the olive oil…I’m guessing the olives came from there as well.
We ate slowly, savoring every bite of this delicious salad. I kept thinking…I’ve discovered the secrets of the Greek salad – it was like Zeus popped out of his childhood cave nearby to playfully reveal a hidden treasure. But like every great myth, I was duped into believing a fantasy… thinking I could replicate such an amazing salad without the right ingredients…and without the context.
And although I always come up short of meeting those expectations, with every attempt I make, I get to revisit the memory of that Greek salad that was born so unexpectedly…
Tofu instead of feta
I’m sure some will stubbornly tell me that a Greek salad made with tofu instead of feta cheese is not a Greek salad. Ok…I get it, and I won’t argue that point – culture and history make a strong argument.
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