Shohola boureki

We got back from Greece last night and I promise I'll post photos and travel log info. Soon. But right now, in the throes of jet lag, all I can manage is a simple post about supper.

Those of you familiar with Greek food may know boureki as either a moussaka relative (made with zucchini instead of eggplant and no bechamel) or a pita made with zukes, potatoes, and cheese.

At the Milia Mountain Resort (a life-altering place I promise you'll be hearing more about), we ate boureki made from winter squash, potatoes, and mizithra. Best I ever had. The next day Cayce and I finagled our way into the kitchen where Manolis put us to work peeling, slicing, and chopping. Highlight of the vacation. Well, one of many highlights. We filled zucchini blossoms, made winter squash balls, stuffed eggplants, and made boureki.

Tonight, longing for our stone house half a world away, I assembled an adaptation of Milia boureki.


peel 1 acorn squash and slice thin
toss with olive oil, S&P, dried oregano, then spread a layer in the bottom of a roasting pan
crumble a combo of ricotta and feta over the squash (in Milia we used mizithra, but this was spur of the moment and there's no mizithra in Shohola)
layer half a sliced onion over the squash, then spread a layer of crumbled, cooked, ground beef
add another layer of thinly sliced squash, S&P, oregano, onions, and cheese
cover with foil and bake at 350 for an hour, checking periodically; if necessary, add chicken or meat stock to prevent mixture from drying out


At Milia, Manolis baked his vegetarian boureki in a wood oven, with considerably more olive oil. Since my face has been breaking out like a 13 year old's due to insane vacation olive oil consumption, I decided to try something a little more personally sustainable. I can't say I missed the extra oil. One of the great things about this recipe is its adaptability. No onions? Try scallions or leeks. And don't be thrown by the lack of quantities specified above. Like my yiayia, Manolis didn't measure anything in his kitchen. 25 years ago that confused the hell out of me, but not any more. That's the beauty of experience and familiarity with your ingredients. Kali orexi.