Christmas is Coming .....

Our local supermarket recently underwent a huge overhaul and has just reopened in time to attract Christmas shoppers and, with good reductions and great promotion, they have done that in spades! Last Saturday,  the January sales-type fever and volume of customers had subsided to some extent but it was still pretty busy. As a flower shop had just opened inside, each lady shopper was given a red rose – nice touch! And there were loads of balloons for children to pick up but were mainly lying abandoned. I remembered a young neighbor, Marina, was quite ill with a horrible, lingering ‘flu, had been off school for days, was missing her mates and feeling pretty down. I scooped some balloons up and, at the village butcher’s grabbed a handful of the sweeties he kindly keeps in a jar for customers. 

 Thus armed, on the way home, we stopped off to see Marina, her sister, Maria, and little neighbours, Achilleas and Olympia. Maria’s pinched, wan little face beamed when she saw the balloons – every child loves them -  but when I told them all that I had met Father Christmas who had expressed concern about a young neighbor of ours who was sick, their imaginations were ignited. Of course both the balloons and sweets served as proof I’d met him and that these were ‘interim’ gifts so that they would be good children and get well for his visit to them very soon. So, good deed of the day done- with great assistance from the supermarket and the butcher!

Christmas is coming and a friend suggested we attend a carol service run by the Anglican Church in Greece. Now I have to ‘fess up and state from the outset that in the main the Church Established does little to  nourish my spiritual needs, but when I’m back in Scotland I do try to take in a Protestant service for the good of my soul. I like how our ministers act as spiritual guides, showing the relevance of the scriptures to daily issues we face, as teachers, leading us on the moral path in the complex culture of today.  As we took our seats, I saw before me religious symbols of the ecumenical, all-embracing nature of our meeting: the cross, the menorah - the seven-branched Jewish candle-holder, and the Greek Orthodox equivalent of the bronze sand-tray to hold the votive candles.

                                          

 

Now for some Protestants, the Calvinistic aversion to the cross – even an empty one – still holds; they see it smacking of ‘papal remnants’ …..  and a little idolatry. Certainly, as I sat contemplating it, it struck me as a rather macabre, mawkish object; in fact I felt such a sense of distancing from my surrounds I realized the honest response would be to leave.  But then something happened to change my mood: the organist struck up the first words of the Lutheran carol Away in a Manger. Immediately I was transported to memories of being a little girl whose role in the primary school concert was to sing this carol solo. Flooding back came that age of innocence, to my absolute, comforting belief in the Christmas story, reflected in the words of the hymn: 

Be near me, Lord Jesus; I ask thee to stay

Close by me for ever and love me, I pray.

Bless all thy dear children in thy tender care

 And fit us for heaven to live with thee there.

Those memories brought the sense of engagement that had been missing and I was glad I stayed, especially to catch up with old friends and share some mulled wine and mince pies with them - isn’t that what it is all about? Remembering the joy on Marina’s face on receiving the balloon and sweets from Santa, I realise that whatever our logical response to it, the Christmas story can be emotionally therapeutic, a source of warmth in the bleak mid-winter.

 As the end of term for our art classes approached, our teacher, Evangelia, invited us, her students, for coffee. Her house is really like a gallery, full of the really fascinating pieces she has created.  Now you can imagine that if the cross can evoke a negative response in me, then icons are really not my thing, but Evangelia’s oil-on-wood of Jesus of Nazareth in the 1977 Zeffirelli film had me enthusing. I have been a fan of Robert Powell since watching him in the television series Doomwatch in 1971. He has a wonderful voice and, as you can see here, his eyes aren’t half bad either! Evangelia kindly allowed me to copy her work here - I am sure it will impress you as it did me.

                                                 

   

  

We’ve just come back from a wee trip to the region of Naoussa, one of Greece’s grape-growing areas. So it was fitting to see that they sometimes decorate their Christmas trees with ………. wine bottles!

                                               

 

     

 And on that note – with a hint of cranberry and cinnamon:

Cheers!  Merry Christmas one and all!!

Crisis Continues, Bureaucratic Bungle, Further Thoughts on the Olive and Art

Our Greek crisis continues as do responses to the situation. Today we have a media blackout as journalists show support for tomorrow’s general strike – which they will cover. The union mobilisation is said to be in response to the government’s austerity measures and will have a wide-reaching impact on the country. Most transport services will come to a 24-hour halt - trams, trains, buses, ferries, flights, all affected – public schools and public service offices will remain closed. So, no spa visits for me, but, fortunately, my pending trip to Athens for teacher training assessments will not be affected. 

In addition, lawyers, who have already staged a 3-day strike, will now continue prolonged striking from today until December 5^th. They are resisting new measures which the government wants to enforce in order to streamline legal proceedings. This is of particular interest to us as we find ourselves in a strange situation.  Recently H went to the land registry office to obtain a document for the tax department – it is a given here that public service departments will not undertake communication between themselves. 

 And what does H find?  Here comes the Bureaucratic Bungle! There is a problem in that when we bought the house, the particular department involved in sanctioning and recording that transaction, failed to inform the land registry section and so the land remains in the name of the previous owner.  Now they have admitted that the mistake is their own and that we unquestionably own both our house and our land– the tax office happily receives taxes (you have noted the plural form there, right?) related to both, so they can hardly argue the toss, can they?

 However, the upshot is that in order to rectify the situation we have to employ the services of a lawyer who will take statements from both parties, agreeing the land is ours, so that the documents are presented in court for judicial ratification. Illogical though it sounds, the offices have told us they themselves can do nothing to salvage this sorry mess and that it could perhaps take up to two years for a court ‘window’ to be found.

It’s hard to decide who to support – lawyers say they were not consulted about the proposed measures which they claim impede rather than expedite progress – but, boy, is that streamlining necessary!!

And now for something completely different. I read a report that after a recent Tracey Emin exhibition, items - sketches of her private parts - were each selling for thousands of pounds. I confess that her ‘art’ has never appealed to me nor have I understood why people commend her for her courage and frankness. Come to think of it, their comments don’t usually include critical art terminology.

Anyway.                                                                                                                                                                          In 2009, Scotland celebrated the 250^th anniversary of the birth of our national bard, Robert Burns, and the Year of the Homecoming was organized. An exhibition of art inspired by Burns was held at Glasgow’s Mitchell Library. I have no idea why Emin was invited to participate in the first place,   but her contribution appalled me :   a hurried sketch of a bird sitting atop a penis, if you please. A Glasgow newspaper declined to publish my response – understandably! – but now is the time for me to grind the axe and settle an old score. Here it is, my

 Response to Tracey Emin’s ‘piece’ at the Mitch  

 As part of the Homecoming at the Mitch

Tracey Emin’s rendition

Smacks of disregard and kitsch

Confusing the term ‘exhibition’.

Many will agree this squint-moothed quine

Produces work that’s naff

But with this attention-seeking piece

Our artless lass has made a gaffe

For as any Scot can tell

From the Mull of KIntyre to Barra

 What Emin drew is no ‘Sweet Thing”

But Duncan Macrae’s ‘Wee Cock Sparra’!

Gosh, I feel the better for having expressed that!

In my last posting, the olive featured largely and so I thought I would share some further thoughts on the subject.  Below is our table set for a summer lunch. From the top you can see home-made oatcakes and bread (bakery bought!), cucumber strips sprinkled in oil and vinegar, meatballs made from a pork and beef mince-mix, oven-baked beans, and the plate above the tomato slices, contains olive paste. This is easily made by placing stoned -  or should that be de-stoned !?-  black olives in the blender, along with some feta cheese.  It is very much a taste thing so you can simply mix small amounts of each together until you get a blend you like. If that combination still seems too strong then bread crumbs can be added to lighten things up.  
All you need now is ice, a splash of ouzo and some good company – delicious! 

 

                                         

This week I began a new subject in art class. Oops, perhaps I shouldn’t feature my stuff in a posting that mentions Emin’s work? The connection is purely thematic, you understand!

Still in the early stages it looks a bit washed-out. I quite like the shape and the background, but the olives and leaves need a bit more colour.    

I like to include some pictures in my blog so here it is:

      

                                       

                                           my garland in honour of the olive!

The Olive - Production and Pressing

Autumn has come and with it the garden chores vary. It was time for us to pick our olives. There is a saying that you shouldn’t count your chickens before they hatch and it’s one that is relevant for many of us in our area. We were delighted to see our trees heavy with flower early on in the season. But for some reason – be it wind, rain, hail  - they dropped off and our eventual harvests were poor. 

              

                                                    

A word about the olive, one of the most valuable harvests of the Mediterranean region. In that area, wild olives are believed to have been collected by Neolithic man in the 8^th millennium BC. Archaeologists have found evidence that the Canaanites were producing oil by 4,500 BC, while recorded evidence of oil extraction is found in the Hebrew Bible, when the Egyptian exodus is described.

As far as Greece is concerned, the olive tree was being cultivated around 1500 BC in Crete (late Minoan period). The earliest evidence of oil production is of amphorae, or jars, used for storage.  The olive was held in high esteem by the Greeks. Many writers - among them, Herodotus, Plutarch and Ovid - relate how the capital city was named in honour of the goddess, Athena, whose gift to the city of the  olive tree was held in preference to that of Poseidon, a spring of salt water.

                                 

                           

Its value as a trading commodity cannot be underestimated for many cultures saw it as essential. The oil was used in religious rituals, as medicine, as fuel for lamps, in the making of soap and items of skin-care. We are all familiar with those six-pack Spartans, generously glazed in olive oil while participating in their competitive sports – now there’s a thought for modern-day marketing!                                                                                                                     

 

                                                                                                                                                     

I love watching the olives ripen. These pictures above you can see how they develop from a firm light green, to a partial green/black where they seem to have been dipped in chocolate ,  through a cloud, dark hue, and finally to a lush, rich, shining berry, ready to be harvested. That last phase is definitely my favourite!

Nowadays Greece holds third place (after Spain and Italy) as a major producer of olive oil in the world.  How the olive oil was processed will determine how it is classified.   The classifications are :

·         Extra-virgin olive oil: this is produced by mechanical means only, i.e. without the use of chemicals. This is of higher quality and contains no more than 0.8% free acidity - i.e. of not more than 0.8 gr of oleic acid per 100 grams.

·          Virgin olive oil: this, too, is produced by mechanical means only, but, having a free acidity of up to 1.5%, is of a slightly lower quality.

·         Refined olive oil: this is produced and by refined  by using charcoal and other chemical and physical filters; it has a free acidity of not  more than 1.3%. Oils labeled as Pure olive oil and Olive oil are refined oil with a small amount of virgin oil added for flavor.

·         Olive pomace oil: this is refined oil extracted from the pomace, the solids remaining after the virgin oil production. With less of a flavor, but a high smoke point, it is widely used for cooking in restaurants.

There are many different types of olive, many of them particularly suited to specific climatic conditions. It can be a sensitive crop so variety, location, maturity, milling method and storage mode will all play a part in the eventual quality of the oil. Master olive oil tasters identify three main positive attributes in oil flavour:

·         fruity  : this describes the spicy flavour of ripe fruit; the black olive yielding oil that is milder, aromatic, buttery, floral; while the green olive produces flavours of a more green, grassy, herbaceous type.                                  

·         bitter : this refers to a more acrid taste that is mostly pleasant.

·         pungent : this leaves a peppery sense in the mouth .

Just as masters of wine do, they can detect delicate nuances of banana and artichoke on their sophisticated palates, but if they come up with epithets of bacon or cucumber about your oil – that is not good. It is likely to indicate oxidization in the former and overlong storage, possibly in tin, in the case of the latter.

I hope that background information has been as interesting for you as collecting and selecting it has been for me. Next trip to the supermarket will see me scrutinizing olive oil labels. Not that it will be for our consumption, though – we are lucky enough to produce oil to meet our needs in general.

And so it’s time for me to take you, along with our produce, on a trip to the olive press. Below you see our local press and the vehicles of local producers who arrive with vans and trailers heaped with crates of olives. The first time we went there the conversation went something like this: 

 On our depositing several supermarket bags at his feet:

 ‘We’ve brought our olives and we’d like you to take a look at them – are they all right?’

 Response after inspection:

 ‘Yes, as a sample these are fine. Bring out the rest’

  Embarrassed answer:

‘No, that’s all we have’

 Ensuing loud and extended laughter from all present!!

 

 

                  

Below you see our modest contribution- two crates and one supermarket bag sedately sitting in the back of our 4x4. Because there had been heavy rain, so higher water content, the ratio of oil to berry which the press was offering was 10: 1, that is, for every 10 kilos of olives you only got 1 litre of oil. This year, because of low volume and ratio,  our yield was a meagre 3.5 litres, but our very own extra-virgin.

 The complex houses two processing units, so firstly our olives are loaded onto a conveyor belt which has grooves within which the olives nestle as they are taken in for the first part of the process- the wash.

 

                                

Now you see the olives drop from the conveyor belt to be washed – when you see the muddy run-off and soggy leaves filtered to the side, you see how necessary that wash is!

                 

Now the olives are milled and reduced to a paste. What you see happening below is that the paste is now being malaxed – great word that sounds like a real threat as in : Do that once more and I’ll malax you!  It also sounds gloriously similar to a very rude Greek word which makes it wonderfully bivalent! What this means is that the paste is mixed or churned so that the tiny oil droplets can cluster together or agglomerate. My, how my vocabulary has been enriched while I’ve been researching this topic!  

 

After this, the oil literally goes to press. Well, our press does use a press, but more modern units will use centrifugal force for the separation process. At any rate at this point three materials are produced: the solid pomace  (as mentioned   in the oil classification above), a watery liquid which is drained off, leaving our extra-virgin olive oil seen below.

 

 

 If crude oil is known as black gold or Texas tea, then our olive oil can be dubbed liquid gold or even green-gold tea – it’s equally healthy with its anti oxidants battling those baddies, the free radicals, in our systems.

We talked about Greece being third in terms of olive oil world production, but it is noteworthy  that 80% of her production is of the extra-virgin category, in comparison to Italy’s 65% and Spain’s 30%. Clearly she goes for quality rather than quantity. Relevant, too, is that this year at New York’s annual International Olive Oil Competition, 19 Greek oils were named among the world’s best : 11 gained the Gold Award status  and 8 were  given the Silver Award status.

Go Greece!