In a Greek Village: Froso's Table (with Recipe for Pork Kavourma - Καβουρμάς) (for Apples & Thyme)

Every cook worth her salt has many mentors who influence and inspire her in different measures. From Froso, I learned the importance of using local ingredients at their seasonal peak, and the degree to which the art and craft of cooking are inextricably entwined with the quality of the ingredients. I could not have written my cookbook, Tastes Like Home: Mediterranean Cooking in Alaska, if Froso and I had never met.

I first sat at Froso’s table 25 years ago, as her cousin’s new wife. She spoke no English. I spoke no Greek. There are no strangers at Froso's table and she welcomed me into her kitchen, the center of family life, with open-hearted hospitality.

Our shared love for food and cooking was our first common language. Beginning with our first days together, and continuing over the next two decades, I have watched, tasted, and helped Froso prepare an amazing abundance of food from what she, her family, and her friends grew or gathered, all within walking distance of her kitchen.

Froso lives in the small, vibrant farming village where she was born, on a rural island in the North Aegean Sea. Once from necessity and now by choice, the foods that grace Froso’s table come almost exclusively from the bounty of her garden, fields, and pastures, the island's hunting grounds, and the rich waters of the surrounding sea.

Froso learned to cook beside her mother, when the island was an isolated province, and Greece still reeling from ten years of war. It was hard to prepare food in those days. There was no refrigeration, every drop of water was fetched from the neighborhood faucet, all cooking took place on a two-burner gas stove, and baking was done in a wood-fired oven.

Life in the village today is easier. Froso has running water, a working range, and even a microwave oven. The village has a half dozen tiny stores where Froso can buy staples grown far from the island, or even prepared foods. Few of these products ever find their way into Froso’s kitchen. She makes only the traditional foods she learned as a girl, using the same ingredients gathered in the same ways from the same places.

Froso’s meals are crafted from island ingredients in season. Like many Greek cooks (and the best cooks everywhere), φρέσκος (freskos), the freshness of her ingredients, underlies everything she prepares. If Froso is complemented on a dish, she never credits a recipe or cooking technique, but only her ingredients. If pressed, she might mention a special flavor imparted by the particular place the foods grew or were raised. When Froso preserves food for future use, it is always during its season of overflow abundance and peak ripeness.

When okra is abundant, it appears at Froso’s table frequently. When the artichokes in Froso’s yard are heavy with buds, they become the center of her meals. In spring and late fall when wild greens are abundant, Froso spends the long hours necessary to prepare greens for salads and hortopites (wild greens pie).

The eggs she uses are gathered from the hens in her back yard and those that wander freely on her farm. The flour that Froso mixes on the kitchen table to make noodles, bread, and filo is milled down the street, a day or so before it is used, from her husband Zafiris’ wheat. The wine she serves is made by Zafiris in the amphora set deep into her yard.

Froso’s dishes start with olive oil – never butter, which even today is not available in the village. Traditional cheeses, made by Froso and other local women in seasons during which the sheep and goats are producing lots of milk, are served at every meal. Food is seasoned with fennel, dill, mint, and parsley, all of which grow a few steps from Froso’s front door, in her kitchen garden.

When the fish monger drives through town, hawking his wares with a megaphone, Froso buys only the cheapest fish available -- locally caught, small, and bony -- because they are the ones with the most flavor. In many ways, Froso is a simple cook, but a simple cook who uses her unerring taste buds to produce consistently delicious food.

When we first met, the village did not have its own meat store. In those years, Froso raised a yearly pig in the back yard. Slaughtered in winter, every part of the animal passed across Froso's table. The liver, kidneys, and other edible internal organs were fried immediately and served with ample homemade ouzo to the butchers and onlookers. The next day’s meal would be a prime cut of pork. The head, ears, and feet became headcheese (patsa).

Before the days of refrigeration, Froso preserved most of the pork by making kavourma, slow-cooked pork similar to a French confit. Kavourma was traditionally made the day after slaughtering the pig. Meat was cut into chunks, salted overnight, and cooked slowly in its own fat, which Froso calls voutero (butter). The voutero was supplemented with sesame or olive oil, and the meat cooked until it was moist and tender. When the meat was fully done, it was packed into crocks, covered with rendered fat, and stored in a cool place for use over the coming months.

Froso continues to make small batches of kavourma for its special, salty flavor. She serves the kavourma with eggs, as in a frittata, or with dried beans, or in small quantities to flavor vegetable stews or with onions as an accompaniment to ouzo. Although it must cook for a couple hours, kavourma is simple to make and requires little attention from the cook

Last summer, Froso and her husband Zafiris debated whether today’s kavourma is as good as it was in years past. Zafiris thought the traditional version he remembered was better. He attributed this to the sesame oil used to supplement the pig fat, and said sesame oil has a more complex favor than the olive oil used today (when Zafiris was growing up his family had a sesame mill).

Froso thought Zafiris preferred old-style kavourma because it was cooked in pig fat. Today, when making kavourma, Froso discards most of the animal fat and cooks the meat in olive oil. She says that kavourma made this way is healthier and tastes better.

Although it is cooked in oil, kavourma is not a fatty dish. The meat has most of the fat rendered out in the cooking process, so what is left is succulent browned pork. Here is Froso’s modern version of kavourma: When we eat it in Alaska, we feel the presence of Froso at our table, without whom our meals would be much the poorer.

Kavourma (Καβουρμάς)
This recipe works for any quantity of meat. I make it with 3 pounds of pork, which is enough to make several meals for two people.

Fresh ham, or pork shoulder (3 pounds)
2-3 tsp. coarse salt per pound of meat (2-3 Tbsp. salt)
1/3 cup olive oil per pound of meat (1 cup olive oil)

Trim off large pieces of fat from the meat and discard it; do not trim off all the fat. Cut the meat into 1 1/2” chunks. Rub salt into the chunks of meat, place the salted meat in a zip lock bag or other container, and refrigerate overnight.

The next day, put the meat in a colander and wash it well under running water, making sure to wash off all the salt. Leave the meat in the colander to drain.

Heat the olive oil in a Dutch oven and add the meat. The oil should come at least half-way up the sides of the meat chunks; if it doesn’t, add more oil. Heat the oil over medium-high heat until the oil comes to a boil, then reduce the heat until the oil is bubbling slowly. Cook the meat until it is thoroughly done, very tender, and just starts to turn brown; this will take about two hours. Check the meat and stir it from time to time, adjusting the heat as necessary (as the meat heats up, you may need to turn the heat down).

Put the meat in a glass container, cover it with the cooking fat, and refrigerate until you are ready to use it.
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Kavourma and Eggs (Αυγά με καβουρμά)
Serves 2 (Recipe can be doubled to serve 4)

1 cup thinly sliced yellow onion
1 cup kavourma chunks (see previous recipe)
1-2 Tbsp. oil from kavourma
Freshly ground black pepper
4 eggs

In a well-seasoned cast iron frying pan, sauté the onion and kavourma, seasoned with freshly ground black pepper, in the kavourma oil until the onion begins to turn golden. Evenly distribute the meat and onions in the pan. Whisk the eggs together, and pour them over the kavourma and onions. Turn the heat down to low, cover the pan, and cook until the eggs are set.

Flip the eggs and kavourma onto a platter, cut into pieces, and serve. Watercress salad, dressed simply with best quality olive oil and vinegar, is a good accompaniment; the peppery bite of the watercress nicely balances the richness of the eggs and pork.

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Kavourma and Cabbage (Καβουρμάς με Λάχανο)
Serves 4

The amount of kavourma used depends on how much each person wants to eat; I make it with 6 chunks per person. Because the kavourma is salty, there is no need to salt the onions or cabbage. Serve with pickled hot peppers or pickles.

1-2 cups kavourma chunks, with cold oil clinging to it (see previous recipe)
4-5 cups thinly sliced onions
2 Tbsp. minced garlic
1 Tbsp. dry thyme
Freshly ground black pepper
6-8 cups thinly sliced Savoy cabbage (1 small cabbage)

Heat the kavourma in a pan large enough to hold all the vegetables until the fat melts and the meat starts to sizzle. Add the sliced onions, seasoned with freshly ground black pepper, and sauté until the onion begins to turn golden. Add the minced garlic and thyme and cook for one minute. Stir in the cabbage and cook for 10-15 minutes, stirring regularly, until the cabbage is done to your liking. Serve.

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This is my entry for Apples & Thyme.

It is also my entry in Scribbit's Write-Away contest.