Episode 4 Rick Stein: From Venice to Istanbul

I'm on a gastronomic journey that started

with the pleasingly simple food of Venice...

Can we have another? They're lovely.

..and will end with the vibrant Byzantine dishes of Istanbul.

If you like, no problem.

Mmm, I like.

SHE LAUGHS

In between there's a melting pot of East meeting West...

Croatia.

I'm actually talking to the camera, sorry, but...

look at the way that's curled.

That's what they call stiff fresh.

..and back to basics - Albania...

So, which are you going to for, then?

Probably a bit of lung.

Really?

..and a place I know and love - Greece.

Fabulous dishes from the mountains to the sea.

Who could ask for anything more?

I've come from Albania.

I had no idea what the food would be like there,

but I had a great time with my son Jack.

Sheepy. Very sheepy.

Bit more?

We did have some lovely food,

mainly lamb and goat roasted on spits,

good seafood dishes with a strong Italian connection

and lovely bean stews

and baked chicken with pasta.

I crossed the border into Northern Greece.

I've been looking forward to it so much

ever since I started my journey in Venice, weeks ago.

For me, it's all to do with the sea,

the beaches, grilled octopus and cold retsina.

Well, not so long ago I started talking to the BBC

about maybe filming in the Middle East.

I'd just been filming in India,

and I really like the idea of Middle Eastern food.

I mean, Iran, Lebanon, Syria, Jordon, Israel.

But it became very, very clear that that was not going to be.

I mean, I particularly wanted to go to Aleppo in Syria,

and that's now virtually destroyed.

It just couldn't happen.

Then I started reading this book by Edward Enfield -

Harry's dad - about Greece.

And it's about a trip he made on a bicycle right through Greece,

and it's humorous, it's a bit grumpy at times.

He loved the food and he loved the Byzantine culture

and the churches and all that, and I got fascinated.

Having read it, I thought why not have a look at a corner

of the old Byzantine Empire myself?

Something I probably wouldn't have done.

I'm in northern Greece, and the region of Epirus

not far from the Albanian border.

I've never been to this part of Greece before,

but it was here over the mountains that first the Italians

and then the Nazis launched assaults during the Second World War.

Fierce fighting in bitterly cold weather,

followed by dreadful retribution by the Nazis

for any resistance they encountered.

This is the village of Asprageli.

The church along with the school, the monastery and most of the houses

were burnt to the ground by the Germans.

But the villagers, over a thousand of them,

heard the Germans coming up the valley and escaped with their lives.

I think it's the least touristy village I've ever set eyes on.

But it's famous for its pies and that's really why I'm here -

for Virginia and her mum Iro's famous pies.

For me?

Yes.

This is a portion for mountain men, I think.

SHE CHUCKLES

So this is kotopita?

Kotopita. Chicken. BOTH: Chicken pie.

Oh, looks great - and so crunchy.

Oh!

Look...

I don't understand Greek, you don't understand English,

but that is a FANTASTIC chicken pie.

My gosh!

Thank you.

It's so savoury and it's so crisp and crunchy.

It's the best chicken pie I've ever eaten, seriously.

It's really good.

Doesn't she make it look easy? But it certainly isn't.

I just really like the way,

when she's making these filo leaves, she gives a little flick.

I'm just trying to see what that actually does...

See that little flick there?

It's fantastic watching it. So quick.

He-he-he, that's good.

What they're making here is kotopita,

which is wild herbs and feta cheese pie.

It's made with layers of this wafer-thin pastry,

lots of olive oil and chopped wild herbs.

Well, things like wild dandelion leaves,

sorrel, wild parsley, fennel

and loads more, I suspect.

Then thin slices of onion and a couple of eggs.

Virginia mixes that together and puts in crumbled, tangy feta cheese.

They call these wild herbs horta

and they're picked in the mountain pastures

and could well be one of the reasons why Greeks

live to a ripe old age.

That, and the odd bottle of retsina.

Now, this is interesting.

This is pre-baked pastry,

and it will absorb the moisture of the horta as it cooks.

So I can see a general rule of thumb here.

Three layers underneath,

a double-baked layer in the middle

and three more layers on top.

I'd say about one hour in the oven and it's ready.

I just remember the first time I came to Greece in the early '70s

and I went into a pie shop.

I'd heard about Greek pies and I went into the pie shop

and said, "Have you got any cheese pies?"

and they said, "Nai."

So I said, "OK, well, tomorrow? I'll come back tomorrow?" "Nai."

It was only a couple of days later I realised that

nai actually means yes.

No, is O-chi.

Virginia also cooked this - big beans,

butter beans they call gigantes here,

on top of cooked spinach, paprika, olive oil,

and then in the oven for 30 minutes.

Superb pie and beans,

but not as you know it!

Mmm-mmm.

This is such lovely food.

And I was sort of thinking... You don't understand this, but,

when I knew I was coming to Greece,

this is exactly the sort of food I was dreaming of.

Not moussaka, not the sort of stuff,

the grilled fish that everybody knows about,

but things like these Greek pies

and these Greek beans and a bit of Greek wine from the mountains.

Yes!

ALL: Yeia mas! Yeia mas!

I know you don't drink, but...

So this is as good a time as any to cook in my lovely Greek kitchen

overlooking the sea on the island of Simi.

Better still, in the garden -

the perfect place, I think,

to make one of the all-time Greek favourites,

probably more popular than moussaka.

This is souvlaki -

everybody's favourite with chips and a Greek salad.

Personally, I hate peppers, onions or tomatoes with my pork.

Just pork for me, thank you.

Well, I'm making pork souvlaki,

but it's not any old souvlaki.

It's called kontosouvli

and it's from Metsovo, which is up in the north of Greece near Ioannina.

And I was particularly taken with it when we tried some in Ioannina

because it was really spicy.

It, of course, had lots of oregano with it,

but it also had quite a lot of hot red pepper.

OK, that's in my bowl.

Now for the marinade.

First of all, olive oil - a little bit of olive oil.

And next oregano, of course, wild oregano.

Plenty of that.

Some cayenne pepper,

plenty of that.

Next some cumin,

a little bit of that.

And now some paprika, really for colour,

but, in fact, I'm using smoked paprika here,

SPANISH smoked paprika, because I love the flavour.

And now for some lemon juice.

It just tenderizes the meat, I think.

Well, I don't think, I know.

Just one lemon, it's about two tablespoons of lemon juice.

And now garlic.

Next some salt, about a teaspoon, I suppose.

It's got to be well seasoned.

And stir.

You marinade that for a couple of hours,

or better still overnight in the fridge,

and then you put them on wooden skewers soaked in water.

Souvla actually means skewer, hence souvlaki.

And this is where he puts a skewer right through his hands.

I love the sort of dryness of a good souvlaki.

It just... It's a great contrast to a Greek salad.

I don't like it all sort of juicy with tomato and red peppers.

I'm sorry, but that's what I think.

And finally, just a bit more oregano on top.

You can never have too much oregano in my view.

There we go.

Now over to the barbecue.

MEAT SIZZLES

This is a handy tip I picked up in Hanoi in Vietnam.

If your barbecue's a bit sluggish, get the hairdryer onto it.

I reckon I know what the top five Greek dishes are

for the British on holiday.

Well, number five would be grilled octopus,

four, Greek salad, of course.

Three, red mullet.

And a tie with moussaka and souvlaki for the top position.

Mmm.

This souvlaki is just so lovely.

It's so simple, that's what I like about it.

And I've got this friend called Martin,

who judges a Greek restaurant by the quality of the souvlakis.

I don't think there'd be a problem with this.

The main city in Epirus is Ioannina.

At the foot of the city is Lake Pamvotis.

Its smooth surface in late May in early morning AND early evening...

..is always covered in mist.

But the lake is the reason I'm here.

I'd heard about it from friends back home in Padstow,

who said this really should be on my list of things to do in Greece.

The fish, frogs, eels and crayfish are really fresh.

They're caught every morning.

It's right up your street, they said.

And so the course was set.

My appetite was awakened.

For me there can be fewer more pleasurable things to do

than just sitting in a boat on a quiet lake like this

watching someone fishing.

He's catching carp and in this lake, too,

there's also crayfish and eels.

And it's a bit of a national institution.

People come to Ioannina - I know I've pronounced that wrong -

to eat carp, to eat crayfish.

It's a bit like going to Blackpool to get some rock.

Or maybe going down to Leigh-on-Sea

to have some cockles and jellied eels.

It's what you do.

TRADITIONAL MUSIC

The island is a good reason to come to Ioannina

and hundreds of thousands, most of them from other parts of Greece,

make a beeline here.

It's still early in the season, but nevertheless,

I begin to realise that although the streets and houses are quite lovely,

this isn't really working for me.

I must say, these fish don't look very happy and nor would I.

There's an awful lot of very large fish in a very small tank.

But this is what everybody in Greece comes for.

They've come for a plate of carp or a plate of eels,

or some freshwater crayfish.

Hello?

Kalimera. Kalimera.

SHE CONTINUES IN GREEK

TRADITIONAL MUSIC

Ah...good. Very good, yes, yes.

It's like Turkish delight, Greek delight. Greek delight.

On the way to lunch, I was hijacked by this lady,

who runs a cooperative making sweets and local liqueurs.

Not many people, it's said,

pass her by without digging in their pockets.

Yeia mas!

Very good.

I think they probably want me to go in and buy some, but...

Do you like it? I'm just about to have lunch.

Do you like it? I like it a lot. Right.

Yes, yes. Good.

Efharisto. Parakalo...

SHE CONTINUES IN GREEK

GREEK MUSIC PLAYS

Efharisto, thank you,

ciao, bambino,

ciao, amore mio!

OK, it's time to eat.

I watch the chef prepare the most sought-after dish here -

crayfish and spaghetti,

a dish of three parts.

Tomato sauce,

freshwater crayfish and spaghetti.

So, we've got lots of stuff from the lake coming. Yeah.

Probably too much. Too much for two people...

I just wanted to try everything.

You should.

I had it for lunch with Tonya, my interpreter,

who I sensed was keen that I tried everything the lake had to offer.

So along came deep-fried eels and carp...

That was deep fried, as well.

And more crayfish, simply boiled and seasoned.

Frogs' legs, these seemed to be deep-fried, too.

It's far too much, but one has to put on a brave face.

Eating is a way of living, isn't it?

Oh, it is for me.

The only way of living. Cheers. Cheers.

Well, I'm just quite into...try the carp,

because in Britain people fish carp, but they don't eat it.

No. So...

It's quite tasty, though. It's very tasty.

Now the eel, which I do like, I like eel.

I like it, too. Mmm.

This is not healthy enough, is it?

SHE CHUCKLES

Fried and salty....but I love it.

Good for you. Well, now for the frog legs.

Do you like it?

Well, sort of...

But, you know, people always say -

if they think you're not going to like it - "It's a bit like chicken..."

It's like they say snake's a bit like chicken,

alligator's a bit like chicken.

I prefer chicken.

Everything's nice...

..except for the frogs.

SHE LAUGHS

I can't leave the lake without going back 200 years

to the fascinating Ali Pasha,

an unbelievably brutal but exotic governor.

He had 18 girls drowned here

because one of them allegedly refused his amorous advances.

They were lowered into the dark waters with heavy stones tied to their ankles,

all because of a snub to a volatile dictator's ego.

Never a day passes here without his name being mentioned.

This is his summer house on the lake.

It's now a museum, and it's where his head was cut off

on the steps by the sultan's troops

and sent back to Istanbul in a silver box.

Byron, on his travels to Albania, met Ali Pasha.

I think it's fair to say he was fascinated by this tyrant,

so much so he said,

"His manner is very kind and, at the same time,

"he possesses that dignity which I find universal among Turks.

"He has the appearance of anything but his real character -

"that he is a remorseless tyrant guilty of the most horrible cruelties,

"roasting rebels etc, etc."

Ioannina has always been a wealthy city.

Its schools and universities are exceptional

and it's said that during the 18th century every author of the Greek world came from here,

or at least studied here.

I'm going to meet a student of cookery.

She lost her job, like so many in Greece's recession.

She thought it a good idea to go back to basics

and do things using her hands,

and who knows? Maybe open a restaurant.

Welcome, Mr Stein.

Oh, you can call me Rick. OK, Rick.

I've heard a lot about you. Thanks. What are you going to cook for us?

I'm going to cook veal with spices and tomato and lots of onions.

It's a beautiful house, my friend Panajota over there. It's fantastic.

It's very, very restful.

Is that your...?

Yes, that's my friend Panajota, who owns this beautiful house. It's her house?

Let me show you the kitchen.

OK, after you. Thank you.

Wow.

This way, please. OK.

What a lovely kitchen, Marina.

I mean, it just seems...well, so Greek, I must say.

Yes, it is very traditional indeed.

Oh, it's sweet.

So, what are we starting with, then?

I'll start with the peppers.

OK. What, are you just going to chop some peppers?

Chop some peppers, yes.

Let's get on with it. I'll take some notes, if you don't mind. Not at all.

Marina, what's this dish? What's its influences?

I see you've got some spice there.

We have the cinnamon and allspice.

It goes back...back to, you know, Byzantine and...

So you've got a bit of, sort of, Eastern flavour?

Yes.

The difference in this recipe from other recipes to cook veal

is the little onions, the red onions,

that...we cook whole onions in the sauce.

So this is your family thing?

My grandmother, my great-grandmother used to cook it,

so it's, like, from my childhood.

Carry on, please. OK!

So, Marina chops up quite a few peppers,

these long, sweet peppers,

then onion.

You can tell she's not a chef in a busy restaurant,

because the cutting is a bit on the slow side...

..but it's what things taste like that matters.

Some lovely tomatoes.

They're really juicy.

And then she fries her veal.

So, cooking's not your first profession, was it?

You're an architect.

It's true.

I'm a designer for an architect's for about 15 years now.

Are you happy to have given up architectural design

or do you miss it?

Well, it's a very creative thing, but I didn't give up architecture.

Architecture gave up on me.

Now the whole country is like...

Construction no longer exists in Greece,

so I had to figure out what to do.

Really, so you couldn't carry on working? Yes.

So I turned to my other love that is very creative, too,

and it's cooking.

Well, it looks like a really nice dish, actually.

I'm very interested in it because I know it's going to taste good.

I'm looking forward to cooking it and eating it, too.

So what happens next, then?

Now, wine.

I put the tomatoes now in.

OK.

They're lovely tomatoes. I mean...

They smell just lovely.

I know, I tend to write in recipes...

I would say tinned tomatoes

because we just can't get flavour like that back home.

And next? Then the peppers.

The red and the green peppers.

Red and green peppers. A little bit of water.

And then the spices. Ah...

Cinnamon...

Oh, like a whole piece.

That's really, that's a lot of cinnamon. A lot.

That's... So it is very Byzantine, this.

And allspice.

Oh, I love old spice.

Sorry, I said Old Spice, that's an aftershave.

This is allspice.

And the salt and then the pepper.

Good stuff.

And now we let it rest and cook on low temperature. OK.

Good.

To go with this veal stifado,

Marina makes a lovely salad of bulgur wheat -

pligouri they call it here.

She mixes that with coriander, parsley, mint,

dill, garlic, chopped red pepper,

olive oil and salt.

For me, that would make a lovely little lunch on its own.

And now she adds whole red onions to the pot.

That came from her granny's recipe.

The whole thing should take another 30 to 40 minutes

and then it'll be time to serve it up.

Can I help myself?

Be my guest.

Well, I'm absolutely ravenous,

and the smell of the cinnamon particularly

has just been making me absolutely long to try it.

Oh!

It's utterly delicious, it really is.

And I love that cinnamon in there.

That is truly Byzantine, all that cinnamon, all that allspice.

Well, it's in my blood.

It must be. Very lovely acidity from those tomatoes, too.

And I love this salad. Excellent.

Happy about it, very happy about it.

You are happy? Yes.

Oh, you are nice.

Were you worried about whether I'd like it or not? Yes.

Well...!

It's fab, delish. Thank you.

Thank you.

Well, I'm on my way to monastic Zitza,

as Byron called it in Childe Harold.

He said it's a place where rock, river, forest, mountain all abound.

And this is this.

I mean, if there's anything more Byronesque than this,

I would doubt it.

And the locals say this is the spirit of Epirus.

When you read about what a cherished author has written about a place,

it almost makes it personal when you go there yourself.

Byron thought the view from here was one of the finest he ever laid eyes on.

His famous view sadly cannot be seen

because everything's overgrown.

I read somewhere in a tourist guide that Epirus was Greece's greatest secret.

When I arrived, I thought I heard someone inside the monastery playing the guitar.

So I thought I'll have a chat with the monks

about the possibilities of restoring Byron's heavenly view

and lighten the darkness with the help of a couple of chainsaws.

HE KNOCKS REPEATEDLY

""Is there anyone there?" said the traveller,

"knocking at the moonlit door."

I don't think there is.

Oh, well.

Just wanted to have a little chat and maybe point to the view,

because the reason I'm here is because Byron said it had a fantastic view.

I'm reading from Childe Harold, I just noted this down, it says,

"Monastic Zitza, from thy shady brow,

"thou small but well-favoured spot of holy ground,

"where ere we gaze around,

"above below, what rainbow tints,

"what magic charms are found."

And there's also a letter to his mother where he says

he slept here and it was in the most beautiful situation,

so I came here expecting to see a fantastic view

with the hills all around.

But nothing.

Overgrown, can't see anything, and no monks.

Was it the monastery that brought me here or was it the wine?

The wine IS very good, so I had to come here and taste it in situ.

The village of Zitza was empty.

It was mid-June and I didn't set eyes on a tourist and hardly any locals.

MUSIC PLAYS

I promised myself a glass of Zitza wine

cos I'd heard so much about it and it's very, very nice.

Very dry, quite austere.

Quite light, as well - only 11.5, I just seen on the label,

so just the sort of white wine I like.

The noise in the background is a bouzouki,

but it's not a tape, it's somebody actually playing it.

Perfect! It's these little things that really make a trip like this for me.

This is avgolemeno.

It's a soup with a poached egg.

It's a very simple Greek soup and you might gather from the name

that it's got lemon in it, lots of lemon and eggs.

And it's a lovely soup. It's got chicken in it, as well,

and I think the secret of it is a really good chicken stock.

And it's very, very light, very delicate.

It's actually really good if you've got a bit of a...

well...

maybe a slightly delicate head from maybe a little too many rakis,

if you catch my drift.

So I'm poaching my chicken in simmering chicken stock that I made the night before.

Next, a big pinch of salt.

Don't be timid about this - trust me.

And now for the avgo,

the eggs.

Well, I've always thought of avgolemeno as being really

the most quintessential Greek soup.

But then you start looking it up on the internet and you think,

"No, not necessarily Greek, could be Turkish, could be Arab..."

And even could come from as far away as Spain,

from the Jews that were kicked out of Spain and came here.

It's like that with so many dishes.

You can't really pin down where they came from.

You can make avgolemeno with either rice

or orzo, which is rice-shaped pasta.

But I always like making it with orzo because the first time I had it in Greece,

I saw what I thought were giant grains of rice in the bottom of the soup

and I just thought, "Oh, they must make big rice here in Greece."

Also, I think the reason for using orzo

is that quite a lot of the flour comes off the surface of the pasta

and adds extra thickness to the soup.

Right, let's cut up the chicken.

A little bit hot, but I'll prevail.

Basically, I want this into sort of shreds,

which I'm going to put in the bottom of the soup.

Actually, I'm making what I call a full-fat avgolemeno soup.

You can just make it with rice or pasta,

but I've got chicken in it, as well,

and I'm finishing it off with a poached egg.

That's just my idea of how to enhance a dish even further

for a special occasion.

I read that the Greeks actually do do avgolemeno over Easter

with offal poached in it.

And if you think of things like sweetbreads or brains,

they're very similar to an egg

and I think it works really well.

So, now to finish the soup.

Well, this is actually the sort of hardest part of the soup, really,

because it's thickened with eggs.

So I've taken some of the stock and added it to my egg and lemon mixture

just to, sort of, get it up to temperature,

and now I'm adding that back into the main stock,

and I've taken the stock off the heat

just so that I bring it up a bit gently.

Otherwise it will scramble.

So I'm just testing the temperature there.

It should be a little bit uncomfortable to the little finger,

that's when it's just starting to cook the egg,

and very soon now it'll start to thicken.

There's an added benefit to this dish.

If you decide to leave the chicken out,

you can enjoy it as a light chilled soup on a really hot summer's day.

Perfect with a glass of crisp white wine.

Just putting a bit of vinegar in with my poaching water.

It helps to set the egg white and I quite like the flavour, too.

Just swirl the water just so it makes a tighter poached egg there.

This, for me, is in the '70s when I started coming to Greece,

eating this soup. It was like almost comfort food even for me,

because I was quite startled by oregano, by retsina,

by lots of garlic, by octopus...

But this was just a very, very gentle soup

that sort of, in a way, reminded me of home.

I'm travelling south to Preveza,

a few hours from Ioannina,

leaving the mountains and the lakes behind.

I'm looking forward to some fish from the sea.

The fish from the lake was lovely,

but sea fish is the thing that makes me tick.

To my right is the roman city of Nicopolis.

It was built nearly 2,000 years ago

and it still looks fabulous.

Although it's pretty derelict,

it still has the semblance of a complete city.

I can imagine throngs of people in the foreground selling vegetables,

herds of goats and camels,

tents, a market with smoke coming from food stalls,

soldiers on the battlements, etc, etc.

"But what has this got to do with cooking?" I can hear you sigh...

Well, quite a lot,

because I believe the Greeks and the Romans were pretty clever

where they built their towns and their cities.

It seems to me, the most important thing to them

was the supply of good food.

And here in Preveza, that meant fish.

Loads of fish...and oysters.

One of the things that I find very endearing about Roman mosaics

is that quite often they're like this -

a celebration of fish,

of game, of hunting, anything to do with food.

And thinking about it, of course the Romans would have built a city here

because of all those great prawns, the oysters,

the mussels, the clams, the fantastic fish.

And the whole area is so fertile.

Obviously, sometimes it was strategic,

but a lot of the times it was where they could get really good food.

I mean, simply just think of Colchester and oysters.

This is the Greece I know and love.

There's this lovely warm breeze, there's a slight sort of scent.

It's always... In Greece, there's a smell of...

I suppose it's herbs, almost, but I...

Yeah, I think it is, and I just feel I'm back.

Thank you.

Well, look at those. I mean, smell them.

Oh. Do they get any fresher than that?

What would I do with them?

Well, I'd put them on the barbecue.

What would you do with them?

I know you can bake them or you can fry them,

but basically I love them barbecued

because you just get that lovely smell and taste from the shells.

And what would I serve them with?

Well, a Greek salad and some chips.

And what would I drink with it?

A glass of retsina.

Here in Preveza, they told me this -

how to cook prawns.

Basically, lots of hot olive oil,

then red onions along with one chopped leek,

garlic,

two large cloves, roughly chopped...

Ouzo, of course, for that touch of aniseed.

Shake it up, baby!

And then you must give it a Greek Orthodox blessing...

like so.

Next, tomato puree, let down with a bit of water.

Parsley and cayenne pepper,

feta cheese...

I knew that was coming!

Basil, roughly ripped up

and serve.

A touch more cheese and voila,

or idhou, as they say in these parts.

Kalimera. Kalimera.

Sardine or anchovy?

Sardine. Sardine. Sardine.

Lovely looking. Fresh sardine.

Oh, yeah. Beautiful.

Preveza is the sort of place I really like and feel comfortable in.

It may sound a bit daft, but it reminds me of Padstow.

It's a holiday destination for sure,

but that's not its reason for being.

Its mix of fishing, boat repair and agriculture

make it far more interesting and enjoyable.

Otherwise it's just bars, hairdressers

and lots of shops selling scented candles.

Kalimera.

Kalimera. Kalimera.

Kalimera.

Now for lunch - grey mullet.

Not the most popular fish back at home,

but in Greece it's revered.

It's caught way out at sea far away from the muddy estuaries and outflow pipes.

Here they split it open, baste it with lots of olive oil and grill it.

The fish has to be a good size - at least a kilo -

so that the flesh is good and steaky.

All it needs is a dressing of oil and lemon and that's it.

You wouldn't want anything else, except, well,

maybe a Greek salad.

Wow.

I suppose I look a bit sad eating on my own,

but actually I rather enjoy it and do it often.

Normally, I've got a book to read,

but this time I've got a camera to look at.

Bit weird, but there you go.

I tried to get a smaller fish but, you know, in Greece,

it sort of has a habit of not working how you want it.

It's fine, it's fine. It's a lovely fish.

A grey mullet, as it happens, but not just any grey mullet.

What I think we'd call, in Cornwall, a bay-caught mullet.

People...oh!

Excuse me!

They do know how to cook fish in Greece and, I mean,

people often say the food's very, very simple,

but I think that's the point.

I mean, you couldn't get a better grilled fish than that anywhere.

And it's really what I remember,

first coming to Greece in the late '60s, early '70s.

After I'd got used to the taste of retsina,

I suddenly realised how much I loved the grilled fish.

And they're still using charcoal.

I think that's terribly important.

They haven't got, sort of, faux barbecues,

they've got the real thing and they just know how to cook it perfectly.

And I think Greek salad is my favourite salad in all the world.

The Greek salad really has to have a lot of feta with it,

and a lot of dry oregano sprinkled on the top.

I mean, because the feta not only has the nice taste of cheese,

but also it's very salty

and goes so well in that respect with the tomato and the cucumber.

Mmm.

Kalimera. Kalimera.

Welcome.

Oh, very nice.

What a lovely smell - aniseed.

What a lovely shop!

Now, I sort of dream of finding shops like this in Greece,

but they're getting ever harder to find.

It's fab.

And look at the labelling there.

Look at that lovely Greek writing,

and again the colour,

the sort of bluey grey.

I could sort of imagine it becoming a National Trust paint colour

called ouzo blue.

Can we try some? Of course.

Oh, I love the way it goes milky with, I think,

a little bit of blue in there. Blue and white.

Another important feature, is white.

The colour of Greece.

It's just so refreshing. It's funny...

I think it's my favourite strong drink, ouzo.

It's just... I prefer it to all other, to pastis

and all those other aniseedy drinks.

What does ouzo mean to you and Preveza and this part of Greece?

Ouzo...

SHE CONTINUES IN GREEK

Just a moment. Ellie...

Can you translate? Hello, Ellie.

She said that ouzo is the heart of Preveza

and the traditional drink of Preveza.

And I think that ouzo reminds a lot of the sea

because of the taste, of the flavour, of the smell, of the colour.

And it's something that goes on for many centuries now.

Brilliant. I'll drink to that.

Yay. Yeia sou.

I mean, it should be yeia mas.

Yeia mas. Yeia mas.

Oh, well. You know what I mean.

I'm travelling south, as always,

and heading towards Messolonghi,

famous for its fish, mosquitoes,

its salt and the place where Byron died.

When we travel, we're always thinking about where to stop for lunch.

By we, I mean the film crew.

It's so important to time it right,

and it's true to say there's only one thing we want at lunchtime.

It's classic, it's understated, it's cheap,

and when it's done right, it's absolutely delicious.

People often ask me, "What was the best thing you

"had on your travels in Greece,

"and in Turkey and everywhere else?"

and I sort of say, "Well, maybe not the best thing,

"but the thing that caused me the most excitement

"was stuffed tomatoes and stuffed peppers."

Every lunchtime, we'd look for somewhere that did them,

and the trick is arriving about 12.30

when they've just come out of the oven.

It's the perfect lunch.

Stuffed tomatoes and stuffed peppers.

Nice.

This is just stuffed peppers and tomatoes.

You can stuff other things if you like - courgettes, aubergines...

In Turkey I've seen them stuff plums,

all with the same mixture, which is essentially garlic,

shallots, rice and the pulp of the tomatoes

and some herb.

In this case I'm using mint, parsley and oregano.

But it always seems to have so much flavour

and it's a dish I always look for at lunch.

Because you know when first you used to go to Greece,

you'd go into the kitchen, the stuff was already made,

and in many kitchens it's still there at 3.00 in the afternoon,

so the trick is to get there at about 12.30.

And you'd say, "Have you got any stuffed vegetables?"

and they'd say, "Nai," and you'd say, "OK, I'll go next door, then."

No, that's a joke.

My memory of stuffed vegetables in 1970s Greece

is that they were utterly terrible.

They were always served cold, at best lukewarm...

But having freshly cooked, piping hot, stuffed tomato and pepper is a sheer delight.

Basically, I'm frying off some chopped onions and garlic

and adding the pulp from hollowed-out tomatoes.

I'm still trying to work out exactly what makes the perfect filling for this.

So in addition from what came out of scooping the tomatoes out,

I'm just going to add some tomato puree, quite a lot,

I think a couple of teaspoons, heaped teaspoons.

Because that's what I recall about the best ones -

they're very tomatoey.

Leave that to fry so the sweet flavours of the red onions

and garlic begin to infuse

with those lovely fresh tomatoes.

And now for rice.

I'm just using long-grain rice here,

and it's good to get those individual grains covered

with the oil and the tomatoes.

Now, for me, a hint of chilli really complements and lifts the dish.

Next, a good pinch of salt,

some pepper, and finally vegetable stock

to allow the rice to soften, cook and swell.

So, now for my herbs.

First of all, a very big pinch of fresh mint.

And next, lots of parsley,

like a big handful of chopped parsley.

And lastly, some oregano.

About a tablespoon of oregano.

I may have slightly overstated the tomato because it is very dark,

but I'm also looking for a very concentrated flavour because...

..when that rice goes into the vegetables and starts to swell up,

it'll lose flavour as it expands with the steam.

So we need to start with a lot.

Also, I'm just tasting the rice because it doesn't want to be completely cooked

cos it will carry on in the oven.

I love this dish.

I'm just very, very nervous at the moment

because it's a difficult dish to get right.

I think a lot depends on the time you bake it,

so I think it needs to be about an hour to an hour and a half

at a low temperature

so that everything amalgamates in a delightful way.

Put the lids on.

And the peppers. I wanted to get the ones that you could stand up,

but I've noticed around here a lot of them are longer peppers,

so I'll have to put those laying down like that.

Now, some more of my vegetable stock, just to keep them moist while I cook them,

and some olive oil over the top.

Just a bit more salt,

just to season the actual peppers and tomatoes.

Some pepper...

and now a foil, again to keep them nice and moist as I cook them.

So, these will now go into a medium oven

for about an hour, an hour and a quarter,

but I'll test them after an hour.

This is a rare snap of us tucking into lunch

and stuffed tomatoes and peppers give you all you need.

Two each, no more,

one glass of wine, and that's it.

Move on to film another sequence.

And that's how it goes until 5.29.

But that's another story.

So, lunch, yes. In Greece, it's stuffed tomatoes and peppers.

In Spain it's paella or...

SPANISH ACCENT: paella.

In Italy, spaghetti vongole,

that's clams,

and in the UK, fish and chips.

I started my journey in Venice,

and it was a Venetian who coined the name of the town Messolonghi.

Mezzo means middle, lagi means lakes.

The town in the middle of the lakes.

Famous for its salt,

its stance in the Greek War Of Independence

and, I suppose, the reason I'm here, its fish.

So many lovely fish,

thanks to the shallow, fertile lagoons.

Sit down as quick as possible.

Oh!

THEY LAUGH

Have we got that?

Sorry, I'm a bit heavy.

How embarrassing!

I must go on a diet.

It's no good having all these lunches.

But, anyway, back to the fish.

Think of these enormous lagoons as a trap for unsuspecting fish,

wild fish from the sea.

The lagoon is a very tempting place for fish

cos it's warm, it's shallow,

there's loads of food and it's a lovely place for them to breed.

And so, in the winter months,

the fishermen open their rickety gates to the open sea.

And when the weather starts to get warm, they close them.

The fish breed and grow and voila, you've got fish.

As much as you want. Clever!

Everywhere I've been on this journey,

Byron's been there before me.

But this, here is Messolonghi, is where his life ended.

His heart is supposed to be buried here.

He gave his money, his name and everything he had

to the Greek fight for freedom from the Turks.

I'm really drawn to Byron.

Why he left Britain, we don't really know,

but at that time he was termed mad, bad and dangerous to know.

I suspect he was probably bipolar,

so he had massive phases of creativity

and enormous charm,

but then the other side of being bipolar

are these times of when you are filled with self-loathing and doubt.

And he came to Greece and got involved in the War Of Independence.

And I suspect he thought, "This is my cause."

I mean, it was like maybe Mick Jagger or Angelina Jolie

suddenly coming to a small part of the world

and taking on the cause.

No wonder the Greeks loved him

and no wonder the Greeks still have a lot of affection for the British.

And a Turkish Ottoman general at the time said,

"Before we were fighting the Greeks,

"now the world, thanks to this man."

So, cheers.

Petros Pargios is a master of making bottarga.

That's fish roe salted and dried.

It's a wonderful delicacy that I personally love,

and it's really famous in Messolonghi,

particularly delicious grated on pasta.

It's a lovely taste of the sea.

Well, this is very nice, I must say.

Nice. Sort of how I dream of Greece, really.

A nice bar, and a square.

What I would really like to talk to you about is, what's special?

What does everybody like to eat here in Messolonghi?

Everything that comes from the sea.

Actually, it is funny, but if you are from this area...

and you go to a place or a house and you are a guest,

there is a 100% possibility that they will offer you fish or seafood.

If they offer you meat,

you will understand that this person does not originate from Messolonghi.

Really? Yes.

So everybody's that enthusiastic about it.

So if I talked to anybody here,

said, "What's your favourite food?"

they'd say fish?

They will say fish, or they can even say which fish.

Really? And also, the cats do not eat fish.

The cats don't eat fish? No. What's the matter with them?

They are fed up with fish.

What, they've had too much fish all their lives? Yes.

Well, I'm blowed.

They are the only cats in the world that they see the fish, you know, doing like this. And say...

Cake? Yeah. Fish?

Something like this.

HE CHUCKLES

If someone was making a study of fish-eating in the western world,

then look no further than Messolonghi.

There are more fish shops here than anyone I know could believe.

Fish shop to the right of me, fish shop to the left.

Every few yards another fish shop.

There's fish shops on every corner in this city.

I was just thinking... Don't have a go at me back home!

..if you take somewhere about the same size, somewhere like Winchester,

as far as I know, there's not one fish shop there.

Well, here's another one, just a few yards down the street.

We got sardines, we got some bream, mullet, eels, bass,

and I just noticed over there, here's one.

And here we have some...

more bream,

garfish, mullet...

and down here, here's another one. It's a bigger one.

This is amazing. This is, you know,

absolutely where I want to be. I mean...

Here we've got some sardines,

we've got some large bass, they're really large mullet,

again some bream.

More bream over here.

I mean, it's just total nirvana.

And here's another one!

I mean, this is sensational.

So here we've got, like, sardines...

No, no, I'm just talking!

Big mackerel, chunky mackerel, I'm in absolute heaven.

And here we have another fish shop, similar things, I think.

We've got some bass again,

some sardines, some bream.

That's really nice. And, yeah, another one.

Can we just actually call that a day?

Because I think we've seen enough fish shops to shake a stick at

and I quite fancy a coffee.

Right.

I met Petros earlier in the square in Messolonghi.

He makes bottarga, that great delicacy here,

using the local salt.

I love bottarga.

I've been eating it for ages.

Basically, it's the roe of grey mullet,

salted then pressed and dried.

It's expensive, but not as much as caviar,

and goes back to the days of the Phoenicians,

nearly 3,000 years ago.

Delish.

This is why Messolonghi is famous -

because we produce the best bottarga.

And that originates back to the Byzantine times

and we are very famous for this.

I have tasted it, I haven't tasted yours before.

But I'd taste it as...describe it as being...

In spite of its saltiness,

it has this lovely sweetness and it's, sort of,

it's something, once you've tasted it, you've got to have more.

Yes, because you get addicted.

Yeah. It's like when you've got caviar.

You sort of think, "I don't just want a little tin,

"I want a great tin and I want to..."

So, in other words, it is a very, very tasty addiction.

Yeah, it is.

And I have to tell you a little secret about bottarga. Yeah.

You have to handle it with very, very, very much care.

Like women.

That's why men do the best bottarga.

If you believe that, you'd believe anything.

OK. But I like it.

So, once the roe of the grey mullet has been pressed,

salted and dried,

they're dipped in beeswax,

which means they'll keep for a very long time.

Bottarga's not everyone's favourite.

If you like it, you like it a lot,

and if you don't, like the film crew,

you'd run a mile if someone offered you some.

Lena, Petros' wife, made a bowl of pasta sprinkled with bottarga...

just for me.

Mmm.

That's really exquisite.

There's so much flavour in that bottarga.

It sort of reminded me, in a way -

I know this is a bit over the top -

sort of warm seaweed on a hot beach, it's got that lovely seafood taste.

Honestly, I'm a total addict.

Cheers.

ALL: Yeia mas.

Our home will be always open for you. Oh, thank you.

They invited me for a bit of lunch in their garden.

I found with Petros I talked about fish,

just fish,

until the cows came home.

It's quite rare for me.

He knows cooking and fish better than I do

and made this simple clam dish with olive oil,

parsley, flakes of chilli and lots of lemon juice -

I mean lots - from these fat lemons of Greece.

Then he made a stock from prawns.

It gives a real richness.

And he squeezed the heads of the prawns to get extra sweet flavour.

I'm going to do this in the future.

Finally, some zest of the great lemons they have here.

And that's it.

A Greek person said to me recently,

"Don't bother with the restaurants.

"The best Greek food is in people's homes,"

and I totally agree.

And what a lovely dish. Thank you very much for coming.

What I particularly like about it

is the amount of lemon juice you put in it,

which just tastes, you know, so typically Greek, and very...

It almost tastes milder than our own lemon juice.

It is fresh lemon from our garden under the sun.

We have the lake and the sea and everything, so...

OK. I understand, I understand.

Rick, did you really like it?

I really liked it, Lena, yes.

I am so glad you eat using your hands, the Greek way.

I learnt in India, but in India you can only use one hand.

Your right hand. Why? Why?

I can't go into it. You'll have to look it up.

HE LAUGHS

OK, then.

Next time, I'm travelling south

towards the Greece I really know and love.

I just love a little vista like this.

Gets me very, very excited.

I sometimes sort of think, "What would the viewer think?"

I seem to be enjoying myself too much.

You know, people get a bit, sort of, like, "Oh, we love Greece,

"but the food..." I think, "What?"

Once you get into the sort of frame of Greece,

it's the best food ever.

Yes!

And so my gastronomic journey from Venice to Istanbul continues.