105
« on: May 01, 2012, 02:40:02 PM »
Fresh fish, oh yes fresh fish. How could I forget.
Last year we stayed in one of the Romanza Villas next to Dimitris and Hari up at Fedra Mare, and if there’s enough of you it’s a good option by the way. We had other friends staying with Dimitris as well, so all in all we were a pretty big group of 11 adults and 3 children. Romanza Villas are big villas, with a good garden, a good pool, and a barbeque area, so it was obvious, we’ll have a barbeque, with loads of beer, loads of Greek salad from Kostos at Fantasea, (still Golden Beach as far as I’m concerned), and fish straight from the fisherman in the harbour. Simple, well, the first two were.
So two of us cycled down to the harbour at 9.00am, which was no mean feat following a very late night in Athens Bar, and waited for one of the fisherman to return with his catch. Whilst waiting I had a couple of Greek coffees which were excellent, and after only a couple of hours sleep had me ignited and ready for anything, or so I thought. With much pointing, Greek words, and ushering, the guy in the coffee bar alerted us to a returning fisherman. With hindsight I reckon he just wanted the two sick looking Englishmen away from his coffee bar because they were putting other customers off.
A very smiley fisherman, (he was probably just pleased he didn’t look like us), then asked in his very best Greek, how he could help us. We pointed at what we took to be a catch of sea bass and asked if we could buy them. He shook his head and proceeded to explain that we didn’t want those, but wanted these, and opened a basket containing smaller fish, and lots of them. “Salpa” he said and how many did we want? We were clueless but, 11 adults and three children, maybe 25? He shook his finger. At this point I was just starting to tire of the smell of fish and was having flashbacks of Athens Bar, and the two weren’t a comfortable combination. The fisherman, the coffee bar man, and all his punters, last saw the two green coloured Englishmen cycling up the hill in a zigzag fashion with 40 Salpa divided between them hanging off their handle bars.
“Salpa” we proudly announced to group as we arrived back at the villa. What happened to the Sea Bass they asked. Not quite sure we replied, but look here “Salpa”. Christ Almighty they said, how many have you pair of idiots bought? 40 we replied, 40 “Salpa“, and who’s going to help us prepare them? At which point 9 adults picked up their towels and headed for the sun, leaving us with 40 “Salpa”, and three very curious children. I though at the quayside I’d tired of the smell of fish, that didn’t compare with my feelings some two hours later, knee deep in fish heads and fish inards, supplemented with wave after wave of nausea.
Time’s a great healer, and so is Mythos, and despite Hari next door assuming the forest fires must be bearing down upon the village, the barbequing of the fish was a success at least. A strong tasting fish, I found out later from little Spiros at Waves that the locals only eat Salpa in the winter, and that it can trigger hallucinations when eaten. I can report I didn’t have any when eating the little bugger, but had plenty when gutting and beheading him and his 39 mates.
In conclusion, go to see Manthos and his Sea Bass.