Saturday 23 May
Once again, Katja and her
compatriots masterfully organized our last Asmosia activity, a daylong trip to
the island of Brač, source of the white
limestone that built Diocletian's Palace.
They even provided bottled water and some ham and cheese heroes to
bolster us as we traveled on the ferry, got onto busses at Supetar, and called
at the museum at Škrip, the ancient quarry at Rasohe (where Barbara was the
first to spot the relief sculpture of Hercules), and the modern limestone quarry
and sculpture school at Pučišća.
By then it was 2 PM, time to head
inland and up the mountain to the usually-deserted shepherd's village of Gažul. It was
summer on the coast, but up here there was a touch of white on the ground; hail
had fallen the previous night, and was piled up around the clutch of stone and wooden
buildings.
We were welcomed with a choice of
honey, cherry, herb, and pure rakis (try 'em all!), and a beautiful basket of
sugared figs with bay leaves. But most
welcoming was the smell of woodsmoke and savory roast meat: in an open-sided
shelter, on mechanical spits, our local hosts were roasting four lambs, as well
as the attendant vitalac, a local
specialty made of all the lamb offal wrapped in the intestines. In the corners, potatoes were also baking under
woklike lids in the embers.
We entered one of the stone
buildings where tables had been laid and carafes of red and white wine stood
ready. Platters of dark red pršut, local cheese, green olives, and
abundant bread were laid out, soon to be followed by plates of fresh scallions
and dressed lettuce.
And finally the
heaping platters of potatoes, tender lamb and vitalac - which tasted a bit like kokoretsi, but with the liver and other "specialty cuts" in
large chunks rather than chopped together.
For dessert, there was twisted
pastry powdered with sugar, and some
coffee to keep us from drowsing as
we happily rode the ferry back to Split.
We owe a vote of thanks to Katja and her crew for a fantastic
conference, capped by an unforgettable day.
Though the lunch was gargantuan,
by late that night we were peckish enough to want a little nibble; more
importantly, we had not yet tasted one special and hard-to-grow wine of
Croatia, Grk. It comes from the island Korčula, but the vine has only female flowers, and has to
be pollinated by another variety. There
were apparently only 10,000 bottles made in the entire year 2014, and we wanted
one.
If wine, then Paradox, so we hiked
over there; but they were out of Grk, so Zoran kindly made a phone call and sent
us over to their sister restaurant, Paradigma, where they would save us a
bottle.
This is no humble konoba, but a high-end place, its chef
named one of the Jeunes Restaurateurs
d’Europe, and the six-volume set of Modernist
Cuisine displayed like a badge of allegiance on the bar. A Parisian maître d'hôtel would have laughed in the face of anyone who came up wanting
just a bottle of wine and a couple of appetizers, but as with almost everywhere
we went in Croatia, the besuited staff of Paradigma (one of whom had served us
in a plaid shirt at Paradox) welcomed us hospitably, gave us the only table
left, and brought us the precious Bire Grk in its minimalist black bottle. The wine was suitably impressive, a subtle
white which opened up as it warmed a bit.
Of course, presentation is
paramount in a place like this. Our amuse-gueule was a sepia-ink crispbread adorned
with shreds of strawberry and sprouts, like a map of some odd continent.
Two other artistic platters
followed. First was six oysters, one topped with pata
negra Spanish ham, another with honey-melon slice, then raspberry and
tapioca, watermelon dice, cucumber foam, and burrata. It was like a tour of the world via oyster.
Even prettier were Saint Jacques
scallops marinated in rice vinegar presented as if in a terrarium, with dabs of
oyster mayonnaise, beetroot powder, and fresh raspberries scattered over stones
with pine sprigs and cones.
You couldn't have had two more
different, or delicious, meals on the same day.
