As a kid, I marveled at how easily my cousins Sarah and Michelle could gobble up stuffed grape leaves (dolmas) at our grandparents’ house. To me, they were slimy, briny, and a far cry from the much-preferred chicken cutlet my parents would sneak me for dinner from the deli across the street.
Even after my grandmother died and our family went out for Greek food, I still avoided the go-tos: olives, lamb, and spinach pie (spanakopita). My mom and grandpa were in charge of ordering, and no menu was necessary—they knew to ask for lamb youvetsi (lamb stew) and pastitsio (Greek lasagna) if the kitchen had it that day.
At those lunches, the first course was always a platter of dips: classics like tzatziki and hummus, and more adventurous spreads like taramasalata (salty salmon roe). One dip connected the entry-level and advanced offerings: skordalia, a garlicky (often) potato-based spread. What a relief for this non-adventurous eater. Amid an almost assaulting amount of dill and oregano, the menu also promised a simple, sublime dollop of potatoes that any kid could get behind.
Those Greek lunches were always a little overwhelming to me: My family boisterously beckoned to each other from opposite ends of the table under the muffled hum of a bouzouki playing over the loudspeakers. Chairs moved, and glasses clinked. My dad’s riotous laughter ricocheted throughout the restaurant. At least I could tuck into my potatoes in peace.
Credit: Courtesy of Meredith Begley
Skordalia tastes like the cold mashed potatoes you treat yourself to for breakfast the day after Thanksgiving (or is that just me?), only a bit sharper and grainier from all that garlic. At the restaurant, we’d pass our platter around and take heaping spoonfuls, sopping it up with warm pita bread cut into triangles. It was the best of both worlds: simple enough to pass the picky-eater taste test, but sophisticated enough to make you feel like you had insider knowledge of Greek cuisine. There was rarely any left by the time our fish arrived at the table. Skordalia is traditionally served with fried salt cod, but my family always ordered branzino or sole.
Once the adults were lulled into a garlicky stupor (the retsina probably helped), my musically inclined uncle would break out his violin and play for everyone at the restaurant, whether they asked for entertainment or not.
The skordalia I know and love is made with potatoes, but if those aren’t your thing (in which case, I am sorry), you can also use bread or walnuts for the base. But for Dips-Giving, a spud-based skordalia is an appropriate wink to mashed potatoes. You’ll need a ton of garlic, but that’s kind of the point: The name skordalia is a literal mash-up (sorry, had to) between the Greek word skordo (garlic) and the Italian word agliata (garlic sauce), essentially translating to garlic-garlic dip. Pair yours with crunchy crudités, grilled vegetables like eggplant and peppers, or toasted pita bread (pita chips also work in a pinch).
Nearly 20 years ago, I moved to Astoria, New York, a historically Greek neighborhood my family and I frequented for those special lunches growing up. Today, I consider it an honor and, really, a responsibility to shepherd my non-Hellenic friends through a Greek restaurant menu. It’s easy to earn their trust at the start of the meal with skordalia. From there, we’ll move to other must-try dishes, like grilled octopus. But I’m still not going near the olives.
Read the original article on Allrecipes
Dining and Cooking