The Sandpoint Eater: One more bite

By Marcia Pilgeram
Reader Columnist

There is a lot to love about Greece — the blue Aegean, the whitewashed villages, ancient ruins and sunsets that seem almost too perfect to be real. But ask me what I will remember most about this trip escorting 14 women, and I’ll tell you: the food.

I’m writing this from Athens after traveling with my ladies through Santorini, Mykonos and Hydra. We have walked, sailed, swam, explored, laughed, gotten a little dusty, gotten a little sun-kissed — and, naturally, eaten. A lot.

If there is one thing Greeks understand, it is that a meal is not merely something to sustain you between other meals. The meal is the activity.

And we were there for it.

Something wonderful happens when women share a table. Fourteen of us may sit down together, but within about five minutes, conversations are popping in every direction. Someone is telling a story. Someone is passing the feta. Someone has discovered a fabulous little dish and is insisting that everyone take a bite.

“Try this!” or, “Oh my gosh, you have to taste this!” And suddenly there are forks on the move between the little fried fish, the octopus, the souvlaki, the mostra.

We weren’t always one unit. Sometimes we broke off into pairs and trios to wander down a little street looking for the perfect Greek pastry. Or tuck into a tiny café for wine and cheese. Or, of course, go shopping. Have olives, will travel! 

We have discovered Greek food in all its delicious simplicity: tomatoes that taste like they grew in the warm sun, creamy feta, fish fresh and grilled, lamb, souvlaki, eggplant, olives, fresh herbs, honey, Greek yogurt and olive oil — everywhere.

And then there is the rusk.

I had eaten Greek rusks before, but learning their history at a cooking class in Mykonos made me appreciate them in a new way.

A rusk is essentially bread that has been baked twice until it becomes dry and wonderfully crunchy. For generations, particularly on the Greek islands and in Crete, bread needed to last. Without refrigeration and with long stretches between baking days, twice-baking the bread removed much of the moisture and allowed it to be stored for a long time.

Then, when it was time to eat, the rusk could be brought out and topped with something delicious.

One of the best examples is the Mykonian version called mostra. Traditionally made with barley rusk, ripe tomatoes, local cheese, olive oil and oregano, it is a perfect example of the beauty of Greek food. There is nothing complicated about it. It is humble food — and absolutely delicious. Greeks don’t reach for a bag of chips at snack time; they prepare a snack of mostra. 

I concur, give me a good tomato, excellent olive oil, salty cheese and crunchy bread, and I’m pretty happy. And that, really, is one of the things I have loved most about eating in Greece.

The island foods are simple and pure. The tomatoes taste like tomatoes. The olives from Kalamata taste like olives. The feta is creamy, and herbs are used generously. Olive oil is not a garnish — it’s an important food group.

And my favorite part? Meals are meant to be shared.

Somewhere between the first glass of wine and the last bite of dessert, the table becomes more than a place to eat; it becomes the place where stories are exchanged, friendships deepen and memories are made.

And so, I will remember the sunsets in Santorini, the whitewashed lanes of Mykonos, our dusty walk along an old mule trail, and that glorious swim and lunch waiting for us at the end.

I will remember the mules of Hydra’s harbor and the liveliness of Athens’ energy.

Most importantly, I’ll remember these ladies that trust me, year after year, to lead them around the world: passing plates, laughing until our sides hurt, and saying, “Just one more bite.”

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Mostra

This snack is a staple in Mykonos. You must grate the tomatoes to bring out the full flavors. If you cannot find barley rusks in a specialty food shop you can substitute dry crostini. Serves 2-4.