Spices and Senses.
I finished school early one day, so I thought I would go straight home to see Dad before he left for work. I got off the bus, crossed the road and by the time I reached the corner of our street I could tell that he was making ouzo again.
Dad would forget how strong the aroma of aniseed was when making ouzo and you could smell it a mile away. He was terrified that the police might come, not only because of the legal consequences, but because they would confiscate his booty and he would have to buy inferior ouzo from the shop. The horror!
I had a key but I knocked loudly on the front door because I wanted to see Dad’s face when he opened it. Gotcha! Then, relief on his face and a smile on mine. I know it was cruel to play tricks, but I couldn’t help it. Dad’s face was priceless when he opened that door, thinking it might be the police.
When we came to Australia Dad was a qualified Accountant but his qualifications weren’t recognised so he ended up working as a Quality Controller for Johnson & Johnson. He hated the job, but he had a wife, three children and a mother to support, so there was no choice but to work in a factory.
He was also a very inventive man, loved to experiment and was passionate about food. When we lived in Egypt he and my uncle made Lime Juice, which they sold commercially.
I remember Dad sitting in the kitchen, drinking his Turkish coffee, looking up his “Fortunes in Formula” book for recipes for making various concoctions. After a few years in Australia he started a small importing and manufacturing business, which he worked at in his spare time.
He imported cinnamon sticks, cumin seeds and cloves. He left some whole and had the rest pulverised, packaged them and sold them to delicatessens. He also imported incense, which the Greeks use for religious rituals.
In his workshop in the garage he manufactured orange flower water, vanilla powder and ammonia and the whole family helped: writing letters, distilling the orange flower water, packing spices, driving Dad to see his clients, and delivering orders. We were all keen to develop the business with him and we knew what it meant to him.
Dad specialised in some of the most common ingredients used for cooking Greek sweets: cloves, cinnamon, vanilla and orange flower water. The quality of these ingredients available in Australia at that time was quite inferior to what we were used to in Egypt. He thought that it was not only a good business opportunity but it would also bring some happiness to his Greek cooking compatriots. And he was right on both counts.
As he was able to buy alcohol as part of his orange flower water production, Dad experimented with perfumes and, of course, ouzo. Only for home use, of course. Well, perhaps enough for some of our closest relatives too. Obviously it wasn’t legal, so we had to keep it quiet
Dad’s Ouzo was legendary. It had a real kick -- over 75% proof -- so you didn’t drink a lot of it. At my brother’s 21st birthday party Dad brought out one of his bottles to share with the remaining guests. It was 3.00am and by 3.30am all the guests were asleep. Mum and Dad put blankets over them and went to bed. Those poor boys didn’t know what hit them.
I still have some of Dad’s cinnamon and vanilla powder in my pantry. I tried to substitute different brands of cinnamon and vanilla products when I haven’t had access to my own, and always end up being disappointed. I think the Dutch cinnamon comes close to Dad’s, but I’ve had great difficulty in finding vanilla that has the same intensity and flavour. Pure vanilla essence, in liquid form, is fine for flavouring cream or custards, but it really doesn’t have enough flavouring “oomph” in cakes or biscuits. Vanilla sugar, made by placing a split vanilla bean in sugar and leaving it to permeate the sugar, is still a second best. The closest is probably pure vanillin powder.
I think vanilla, cinnamon and cloves are the most commonly used spices in my repertoire of sweets recipes: apple pie, baklava, galaktoboreko, rice pudding, rizogalo, arisa, brandy baba, halvas tis rinas, Mum’s 123 cake, semolina cake, coulourakia, courumbethes, finnikia, to name just a few. And I always use cinnamon in the bolognaise sauce for pastitsio.
There is nothing more heart warming than the smell of home baking. How many times can you remember walking up a garden path and being enticed by the wonderful aromas wafting from the kitchen. By the time you reach the front door you have been melted away into the fantasy of food. The anticipation and sheer pleasure in indulging in those kitchen creations is overwhelming. It is pure happiness. Just add a little of my Dad’s Ouzo and you’re in heaven.
