Mika on Tour

Passport & Plate - Of minotaurs and mousakás

Greece | Friday, March 14, 2014 | 5 photos

Ingredients
3 egg plants
1 kg potatoes
1 onion
1 kg mincemeat (beef)
½ cup of white wine
2 pureed tomatoes
30 g flour
30 g butter
½ liter milk
salt, pepper

 

How to prepare this recipe
Wash and slice the egg plants (roughly 0,75cm), peel and slice the potatoes. Put the sliced egg plants and potatoes in the oven (180°C, 15 minutes).
While waiting, roast 1 diced onion in a pot with the mincemeat. Add the wine (or water, if preferred), the pureed tomatoes and salt and pepper. Let it simmer for 15 minutes.
When the sliced vegetables are starting to get golden, put the potatoes in a casserole dish. Layer them carefully and try not to leave space between them. Add the minced meat and cover with the eggplant slices.
Then (lightly) sautée the flour in butter and add the milk. Heat up and stir until the flour and butter have dissolved in the milk. Pour it over the dish and put it in the oven (180°C, 30-40 minutes).
Enjoy!

 

The story behind this recipe
Of minotaurs and mousakás

When I was four or five, my family started going to a newly opened Greek restaurant. After a few dinners there, I –greatly inspired by Disney- decided to fall in love with the owner, Yannis, and marry him. As every romance needs flowers I convinced my parents to let me buy a single red rose, which I shyly presented to Yannis. After a little confusion, he accepted it with a big smile and in return gave me an orange: a huge, brightly colored fruit, emitting the most intense, mouthwatering summer-smell.
When my family returned to the restaurant a couple of days later, Yannis was talking to a gorgeous woman. Not knowing that the exchanging of rose and orange meant we were engaged at least, he introduced her as his wife. My world shattered. Sobbing I told them all, that I wanted to marry him and that I’ve already decided so last week. Instead of laughing at me, Yannis’ wife very soberly apologized for marrying my future husband.
When I stopped crying, she asked me if I wanted to help her cook the secret family recipe. When I nodded, she took me to the kitchen to introduce me to her little daughter, who was roughly my age. It was my very first visit to a restaurant kitchen and I was overwhelmed with the sight, with the laughter and singing, and, most of all, with the smell. Yannis’ wife got a worn recipe book from a high shelf. “Normally, we don’t tell anyone about this recipe,” she told me, “but as you almost married my husband you are family.”

Then she started to prepare mousakás. Helping with cooking, I quickly realized, mostly consisted of sampling and smelling the ingredients, sampling the dish various times and listening to stories from “back home”, that were half history and half fairytales and went perfectly with the dish.

When we left that day, she gave me a copy of the recipe. Eventhough I was way too young to prepare the dish myself back then, I kept the sheet of paper safe. Years later it was the first meal I cooked myself.