MG was the family octopus and lobster hunter when growing up across from the sea in Athens. He developed a technique and fearlessness that I have observed but, to date, not implemented personally. First step is to spot the octopus in its hole. Search for a round hole lined by one or more seashells that form part of the octopus' diet. Peek inside and if an octopus is in residence, visually mark the spot and rise to the surface for air. Dive again to the spot and sprinkle a few drops of bleach into the hole. The octopus will dart out and you'd best be ready for a quick take-down. Grab it any way you can the second it tries to make a break. Insert two fingers under the hood and grab on with a strong fist hold. Come to the surface for air and while there, quickly turn the hood back on itself. This will kill the creature. Pop it into the mesh bag and go on the hunt again. When enough have been taken for your meal, it is time to tenderize your catch.
Tenderizing consists of smacking each octopus against the rocks 40 times. Next take it by the hood and rub it in a circular motion until foam forms on the rocks. Continue this circular rubbing until no more foam rises. Rinse it off in the sea and it is now ready to be turned into lunch. We generally use what is the simplest and perhaps tastiest preparation, as follows. Cut the octopi into bite-sized morsels and saute in a bit of olive oil and chopped garlic and parsley. Take care not to overcook, which is easy to do and which you will heartily regret. A squirt of lemon and dash of salt and you shortly will eat the freshest most pleasing lunch that rivals the best taverna or swank San Francisco restaurant.
Walking back to the house from the beach, neighbors call out greetings and present offerings of fresh yoghurt, tomatoes, zucchini, cucumbers and herbs fresh from the garden. A next-door neighbor asks us to try his freshly bottled wine (as if we'd refuse…HA!) and brings a bottle of crisp white. We trade a small octopus for some fresh goat's milk as I am keen to try my hand at making feta cheese. When it is time to eat, we will add to this remarkable bounty a few olives and some local cheese purchased at an upscale cheese boutique in Naxos City. After showering, we sit on the veranda watching the water and anticipating a noon meal far superior to any money could buy.
Other days we may want a walk or hike rather than a swim for our exercise. Along the way, I collect wild oregano, rosemary, mulberries in May or in August some figs from an abandoned garden. We forage, hunt and fish in the sea, trade with neighbors, grow our own vegetables and buy staples locally. As we wander, I am on the lookout to meet a neighbor with an apiary. Local honey which the bees make flavored with hemlock or rosemary is out of this world. Perhaps, I think, he or she will take some of my home baked bread in exchange.
Only then does it dawn on me. I have traveled so far only to return to my roots in Pennsylvania where I learned to bake bread as my mother taught me. I wonder if the aroma tantalizes the neighbors as it did my brothers and sisters and I when we alighted from the yellow school bus. We could smell that delightful scent each Friday as the bus door flapped shut behind us. The tantalizing aroma made us quicken our steps, to reach the front door panting for breath and pushing each other out of the way. We were rewarded with a fresh, warm slice of bread and a smile from Mom. MG and I both love the prospect of creating wonderful experiences and lasting memories for our little grandchildren and for ourselves and friends as we all spend time together here in the coming seasons.
Technically this seaside property has a beginning and an end. In reality however, it reaches across boundless time and space.
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