Lambi the Lamb Moves On to Greener Pastures

As nearly every relative and friend who has stayed with us seems to know by now, one of our favourite neighbourhoods in New York is Astoria, in Long Island City. From our end of northern Manhattan it is a slow, congested bus ride away, and worth it. In Astoria even the cash machines speak Greek. The cafés have a European quality of life about them. The Middle East begins at the hookah bars of Steinway Street, although the street is named after a family of German piano makers.

The streets are peopled by recent immigrants of many kinds: besides the Hellenes and the Egyptians there are at least Latinos of every sort, Bangladeshis, Croats, Brazilians and Albanians. Cheap, homely restaurants are everywhere. A glass of Brooklyn Lager at Brick, followed by a round of dessert shopping at a Greek bakery on Broadway, is a pastime I recommend in the strongest terms. When it comes to dinner, though, we nearly always end up at the Greek restaurant Stamatis, a stone's throw from the Broadway station on the N and W lines.

One has to get to Stamatis early, because otherwise the unrestrained gorging on taramasalata, good bread, souvlaki, tzatziki, lamb chops and lemon potatoes ends in a dreadful bloat - not to mention the nightmares brought on by Mythos beer, resiny retsina and red wine by the carafe. And a dessert on the house always arrives as well, at the point when one could not manage another bite.

Because of Stamatis we hardly ever cook Greek food at home, apart from an occasional feta and olive binge. On the way home from the airport we often stop at Titan Foods in Astoria, because a meditative moment among dozens of kinds of olives and feta and buns oozing ouzo does wonders for a painful journey. The recipes that follow, however, have been travelling with us for rather longer. Their origins are murky, and in authenticity they are probably on a level with Väiski, the jovial butcher of a Finnish grocery chain's old television adverts. I recommend trying them all the same.

Anyone who loathes lamb can make do with beef, or with a mixture of beef and pork. The mint and the raisins can be left out if they seem odd. Mint, I am told, belongs in real Greek meatballs too, but I will not vouch for the raisins. I give aniseed a wide berth myself in everything except London drops, the Finnish liquorice sweets in an aniseed shell, but a splash of ouzo can go into the meatball mixture as well, if there happens to be some in the cupboard.

The mixture is rolled in breadcrumbs into small balls, which are fried in a pan in very little olive oil. A good sauce with these is a quick tzatziki. Its grated cucumber is worth squeezing properly dry, so that the sauce does not turn watery. In Finland potato wedges can be had ready-prepared from the freezer cabinet of any shop, but they are easy enough to make yourself.

Recipe card

Pseudo-Greek Lamb Meatballs

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• Frying about 10 min

You will need

500 g	minced lamb
2 slices	toast bread or other white bread, crumbled
1	egg
1 tsp	thyme
1 tsp	dried mint, if you like
50 ml	golden raisins, if you like
1-2	cloves of garlic, crushed
1 tsp	salt
1 tsp	freshly ground black pepper
1	onion, finely chopped
	breadcrumbs for rolling
	olive oil for frying

Method

1. Mix the ingredients into a meatball mixture.
2. Roll the mixture in breadcrumbs into small meatballs.
3. Fry in a pan in very little olive oil, rolling them about, for about 10 minutes.

Recipe card

Tzatziki

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You will need

200 ml	full-fat plain yoghurt, Bulgarian or Greek
1	clove of garlic, crushed
about 5-10 cm	piece of cucumber, coarsely grated and squeezed dry
2 tsp	white wine vinegar
	salt and freshly ground black pepper to season

Method

1. Mix all the ingredients together.

Recipe card

Potato Wedges

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• Parboiling 4-5 min
• Oven 225 °C, top shelf
• Roasting a good 20 min

You will need

2-3	medium waxy potatoes per diner
	olive oil
	herbes de Provence, thyme or rosemary
	sea salt

Method

1. Cut the potatoes into wedges and parboil them for 4-5 minutes in salted water.
2. Drain, move to a lightly oiled shallow oven dish and sprinkle a little more oil over the top.
3. Roast on the top shelf of the oven at 225 degrees for a good 20 minutes, or until the wedges are golden.
4. Scatter sea salt and the herbs over the finished wedges.

Besides these we usually make a salad of tomato, cucumber, whatever green leaves there are at home (mixed greens or baby spinach) and a vinaigrette (1 tsp balsamic, white wine or red wine vinegar, 3 tsp olive oil, a knife-tip of Dijon mustard, two pinches of sugar and a pinch of salt).