Many years ago, I worked in a restaurant with a small handful of men who occasionally began sentences with the phrase “In my village…”
“In my village, Turkish exchange students are still regarded with suspicion.”
“In my village, we have a penis festival.”
“In my village, we have too much respect for the olive to stuff it with bleu cheese.”
You get the idea.
These men could get away with saying such things as easily as they could get away with calling women "baby" because they were from Greece. They had the accent and an old world charm that hung about them in the air like the smell of clove and stale cigarette smoke. If I peppered my conversations with "In my village...", people would probably assume I meant Greenwich Village.
And I’m okay with that.
I may not be able to get away with mimicking the way these men talk, but I can absolutely get away with imitating the way they eat. And drink. Especially during the hotter months: ripe tomato and cucumber horiatiki, simple grilled lamb and chicken souvlaki, dill-speckled tzatziki, ice-befuddled ouzo. You get the idea.
One of my favorite—and easiest to prepare—Greek summer staples is karpouzi me feta.
Karpouzi me Feta
When first confronted with this combination of chilled chunks of watermelon paired with feta and olive oil, I was dubious at best, but I dropped the skepticism the moment I tried it. The juicy sweetness of the melon paired with tangy, salty cheese is, among other things, a glorious warm weather method of hydration and electrolyte delivery.
So give it a go. Or don’t because who am I to tell you what to do? But if you’re ever in possession of both ripe, sweet watermelon and good quality feta at the same time, you’re a fool not to try it.
A fool, I tell you.
Unless maybe you’re vegan. Or lactose intolerant. Or once witnessed a loved one drop dead from a surfeit of watermelon à la John Argyropoulos. Or have some other good reason.
Like I keep telling you— I don’t know your life (but really, I’d probably like to. I’m a people person).
Serves: Whomever, Wherever, Whenever
There isn’t much in the way of an actual recipe beyond a short list of ingredients and what to do with them. There are no amounts. Make this salad as big or as little as needed with as much or as little of the ingredients as desired.
If there is any trick to this dish, it’s to have ripe watermelon and a good quality feta.
Ingredients:
• Ripe watermelon (I like a seedless variety) cut into manageable chunks
• Good quality feta cheese. Epiros Feta ( P.D.O.) from the Epirus region in the far Northwest of Greece is the gold standard.
• Fresh basil leaves. Fresh mint or Greek oregano leaves are also lovely
• Toasted pine nuts or pumpkin seeds
• Good olive oil, which does not have to be Greek if you don’t want it to be.
Preparation:
1. On a platter sized appropriately to your needs, place cubed watermelon.
2. Crumble the feta over the watermelon, drizzle with olive oil, and sprinkle liberally or illiberally with your herb of choice and preferred toasted nut or seed.
3. Serve immediately. You’re all done.
4. If bringing to a barbecue or similar outdoor gathering, find a shaded spot in which to relax as you watch other people sweat over their hot grills. Sit back, have a cool drink, and accept compliments about your brilliant salad.
⇩⇩⇩ And now, the announcement ⇩⇩⇩
Hello and thank you for reading this part.
Moving forward, Spatchcock will be publishing regular paid content.
What does this mean? Starting this month, Paid Subscribers will receive:
• Two paid members-only posts every month
• Spatchcock Audio plus full archive of podcasts
• Access to all archived essays and recipes
• The joy of knowing you are supporting the Arts just like Peggy Guggenheim
Free Subscribers will still receive two posts a month.
In an ideal world, I could just write and share my work, paywall be damned. But the reality is that this little Substacker has to eat and pay his internet bills.
As a bit of extra enticement, I have reduced the monthly subscription fee to $5 and the yearly to $50 for the months of July and August (down from $5.50 and $55 respectively).
My therapist thinks it’s high time I start to consider my work as something of value. After more than a decade of sessions, I actually think he’s right.
If you’re on the fence, why not subscribe for a month or two and just see what happens? I completely get it if you can’t— no one can support every single Substack they read—but if you can, it would make me a very happy (and grateful) fellow indeed.
Finally: I am a good writer because I’ve been at it a long time, but I am new to creating and maintaining perfectly balanced monetized literary and culinary content and suggestions are absolutely welcomed.
There may be a bump or two along the road, but I’m confident it’ll be a fun ride.
Cheers and thank you,
Michael Procopio, author/photographer/researcher/editor/recipe developer/publisher of Spatchcock
One of the best summer salads. Even though it has no tomatoes. (I am very fond of tomatoes.)
And you are a very good writer.
dear Michael, this combination is Turkish as much as Greek. we have been sharing the same geography and a history. the only difference is our salty cheese is not feta but much fattier and in my opinion more delicious “beyaz peynir” white cheese.
as an Istanbulite living in Thessaloniki I can say there are things (foodwise) Greeks excell, like all sorts of fried stuff, cooking fish and seafood properly, but feta is not one of them. I think it is their marketing ability.