Leftovers.
That big marmalade Tom got the bones and heads from the fried Aegean fish we ate on Sunday. He hangs around the chooks, turkeys and geese looking for any of their leftovers
In the white bag was the remains of the funeral wheat, known as koliva. I gave the koliva to the chooks and turkeys. Any leftovers musnt be thrown away because it has been blessed in church. K puts it out for the birds.
Boiled wheat with icing sugar, coconut, fine bread crumbs to soak up any moisture, pomegranite seeds, raisins, sesame seeds, cinnamon and finely chopped almonds. Oh and chopped parsely. Everyone, every district has its own recipe and traditions. I tried a few pieces of almonds. Nice .
I helped make trays of it for my inlaws many memorials. My greek sister in law is very do-it-yourself. Though its more likely nowadays that the local funeral director will provide the koliva, put it into bags after the service and hand it out with a plastic spoon and paper napkin and a sweet bread or cake.
You eat a spoonful and ask the Lord to forgive the one who has passed, and has, you hope, gone up there to heaven.
Winter is approaching
The road sides are full of pine cones and little bits of wood which are ideal for starting winter fires.
When I walk I collect a bag full. My knees and legs are still sore from the unusual exercise. Take a step, bend down, pick up a pine cone, put it in the bag and so it goes on for a hundred metres. I've cleaned off one side of the top road. Today I'll do another stretch, and more stretching.
In a week or so when it gets really cold people come from all over the island for the pinecones. They won't find many left.
Revenge from last year when outsiders came in and scooped them all up .
Boiled Goat
K has a friend who has goats. Now and again he'll slaughter one and sell the meat. It's much cheaper than the butcher. K and his friends prefer this way of buying their meat. They know the family, they know where the goats graze and what they eat.
We still had a bag of frozen goat from the last kill.
I cooked the last of it in the pressure cooker. It was very tender, fell of the bone. Then I put it in the oven for 20 minutes with garlic, lots of mustard, oregano and lemon juice to crisp up the fat. It was delicious.
As long as there is no smell it's good meat. A good goat man knows when to kill and how to prepare the meat so it is at its best.
I've just realised its November 5, Guy Fawkes night. Memories of our big bonfires down the gulley with firecrackers, Catherine wheels and the occasional rocket whizzing into the sky. Later on private bonfires were discouraged and the local Lions or Rotary Club organised a big town bonfire with a sausage sizzle. Oh the smell and the excitement. Days of yore.
I forgot the sparklers, staring at their sparks and twirling them around in the air. And looking at all our neighbours fires across the gulley. Lots of fun for a small girl.
Around here neighbours have started olive picking though the olives are sparse this year and not very plump. Others are waiting, hoping for some rain to fatten the few olives on the trees.
Down in the Cyclades, Naxos and Paros, local priests have held services to pray for rain
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