For a start, I wish I know how to stuff a tomato…

MANY years ago I was lucky enough to go on a wine tour of Greece under the charming leadership of Cape Wine Master Sue van Wyk, who now lives in Australia. It was one of those wellplanned tours where we all had plenty of spare time to explore the islands on our own between visits to wineries.

One piece of valuable advice Sue gave us was to look at the price of stuffed tomatoes whenever we were considering a restaurant. The Greeks still used drachma in those days and every restaurant featured stuffed tomatoes on their menu. It seemed to be the Greek national dish.

“If the price of stuffed tomatoes is higher than three drachmae, avoid the place.” Sue told us. “It will be an expensive tourist trap. If the price is lower than two drachmae, avoid it as it will be a rubbish place.”

We followed her advice faithfully and enjoyed great meals all over Greece.

I am planning a Greek evening for some friends for some friends and I thought I’d make stuffed tomatoes as a starter. I brought back a cook book called but alas, there’s no mention at all of stuffed tomatoes in it.

The book offers detailed instructions for making stuffed cabbage, stuffed artichokes, stuffed leeks and stuffed zucchini, but no mention of stuffed tomatoes.

I am amazed. I looked in my food “bible”, which is Pam Shippel’s very reliable book, and again, she doesn’t tell me how to stuff a tomato.

What’s going on here? Stuffed tomato was on every menu in Greece when I was there. It was a benchmark dish. I’m beginning to wonder whether it ever actually existed. Maybe it was simply a fictitious item designed to indicate the status of the restaurant.

We never actually ordered stuffed tomatoes. Was this some kind of national joke, designed to confuse tourists? Maybe it was something like our “monkey gland” steak, which was invented purely to tease foreign visitors. Apparently some foreigners dining at a Durban hotel asked for “something unique to South Africa”, and the chef rustled up this sauce which contained a glug from every sauce bottle in the pantry.

He gave it the tongue-in-cheek name “monkey gland” and the next thing he knew, it was a South African dish. People travelled from all over the world to experience this unique sauce. Every restaurant in the country had it on the menu.

The recipe in Pam’s book says it all. Onions, chutney, tomato sauce, Worcestershire sauce, vinegar, sherry, mustard, oil, garlic, old rugby socks (no, I’m kidding. No rugby socks).

Maybe Greek chefs look at each other and wink and say: “He ordered the stuffed tomato. Whose turn is it to concoct one this time?” If anybody has an authentic Greek stuffed tomato recipe, I’d be very grateful to have a copy.

Last Laugh

It was a grand concert in London’s Albert Hall to raise money for the refugees of the world. All the great names were on the programme.

The artistes waited quietly backstage for their turn, and nobody had the courage to speak to the great Luciano Pavarotti, who stood proud and alone.

Eventually, South African folk singer Piet Vrotwater approached the great man and said: “Hey, Oom, please don’t do

that’s my song and I’m on stage after you.”