So many Good Friday & Easter memories...

Today is Good Friday in the Eastern Orthodox Church. Greeks and Greek-Americans who observe Easter have been fasting since March 18th. And they have been spending every night this week in Church -- all the while preparing for Saturday at midnight, the high point of the most important church holiday of the year and the moment when we say "Christ is Risen." 

There so many memories around Easter...Lent was important in our Stockton family. But it was not difficult to appreciate Lenten dishes like lentil soup, spinach w/rice, and stuffed peppers (no meat). As a child I really appreciated the days when we could not drink milk and had to be satisfied with Seven Up -- a sacrifice worth noting! But it was difficult to both go to church every night during Holy Week and keep up with homework during the years (3 out of 4) that we did not celebrate Easter at the same time as the rest of Christianity. It was even more difficult explaining why.

St. Basil's Greek Orthodox Church memories abound, beginning with the original church on Stanislaus Street.  Spilling into the street -- before the days of the newer church building w/the parking lot -- on Good Friday night with the "epitafio" was totally creepy and exciting. Then on Saturday night, more candle wax dripping onto our hands with oddly comforting familiarity as we chanted "Christos anesti ek nekron." (Now we have those newfangled plastic wax-catching things. Can't we just bring back the Dixie cups?)

The many Easters I spent in Greece provide more amazing memories. In Thessaloniki, the procession on Good Friday from Aghios Dimitrios Church -- containing the relics of the city's patron saint -- included a band playing dirge-like music all along the way. And how about the Easter Sunday spent in Alexandria, Imathias, with my brother George at the home of student -- where the father (a butcher) began roasting his lamb at daybreak and we helped by drinking tsipouro. Does it get any better?

Holy Trinity, Peterborough ON

Back in New York City, there was Easter at the tiny St. Nicholas Church located in the shadow of the World Trade Center and later tragically destroyed on 9/11...Memories of a Holy Saturday night at the multi-ethnic Orthodox Church in Missoula, Montana, include freezing, gusting weather and the priest -- Father Gregory Wingenbach, someone I actually knew from my days at the American Farm School! -- knocking on the closed Church door before we reentered.  A memorable, celebratory feast followed in the basement church hall...More recently on Good Friday, I usually process around the block including the small Church of the Annunciation in North Miami -- with a police escort blocking the intersections, flags and church banners, the whole nine yards. And it is still exciting, but not so creepy.  After the Saturday midnight Liturgy, the church community sits down together to eat the traditional "magheritsa" soup. Should I tell you what's in it?...This year I will celebrate Easter in Canada, at the Holy Trinity Church in Peterborough, Ontario -- creating new memories of the Greek diaspora.

On Sunday, St. Basil's congregants will celebrate Easter with an "agapi" service and picnic on the church grounds.  Sounds nice. But will it be like the gatherings we used to have at the exotic (or so I thought) Micke Grove Park in Lodi with an outdoor church service and picnic that I could hardly wait for? There were always other people in the park that day, and I was always so proud of us -- a vibrant, diverse Greek community with a common cultural heritage and purpose celebrating Easter to the fullest. Those were the good ol' days!

Kali Anastasi kai Kalo Pascha!

My Mom's Youvarlakia...

Angeline Xanttopoulos

Today would have been my mother Angeline Xanttopoulos's 88th birthday. And so I decided to make youvarlakia, one of my mom's specialties and one our favorites -- and from a recipe of hers that I had written down on October 4, 1998.

For the uninitiated, youvarlakia are meatballs made with rice and finely chopped onion, and laced with minced fresh mint -- all mixed thoroughly "without over-handling." The meatballs are then rolled in flour and gently dropped into boiling chicken broth -- not unlike matzo balls for matzo ball soup -- and simmered until the rice is done. Eggs are beaten with lemon juice and "avgolemeno" is made with the broth, either as soup or thickened with cornstarch as sauce (and always a bit tricky so the egg doesn't curdle).  Serve the youvarlakia as a filling soup or made larger as a main course with the sauce.  Both are winners if you do it right.

When was in Greece last November, I had some excellent youvarlakia at Bouris Restaurant in my grandmother's hometown, Koroni, Messinias -- at one of the only places I could find there with cooked Greek food ("tis katsarolas") and not just grilled items ("tis oras"). They were delicious and served with another of my all-time favorites, boiled dandelion greens ("horta") with olive oil.  But good as those youvarlakia were in a perfect setting, they just weren't as good as my Mom's. Mine weren't that good either.  I'll keep trying, but there will always be something missing...

Remembering Papou George Sarris

Recently I was with someone who said he was waiting for his woman companion to work the room so they could leave -- he had been ready to go for awhile. Immediately, I remembered the many times when my grandparents George and Eugenia Sarris would be leaving from somewhere, or so Papou thought. There he would be waiting, with his coat on and hat in hand -- he had some great grey fedoras -- while my grandmother continued to work the room. He was a man of few words: "Evghenia!"



George N. Sarris

It is easy to remember my Papou, as he was a great if quiet influence on our lives: cook par excellence at home and at the Palace Candy Store (my brothers are carrying on the tradition), self-made agronomist and animal husbandry guy in the tradition of Greek villages, and carpenter-plumber. He grew vegetables and fruit (like the yummy blackberries that grew along the fence), raised chickens and rabbits, and built/repaired things we needed -- all in his 2-part backyard or garage on 1633 W. Alpine. To me, there was no more exciting place to snoop around in than that garage -- and I still have a few of his hand-tools.  If he ever was angry enough to yell at you, you knew that you were in serious trouble!

Papou also mowed his own lawn and some of the neighbors' lawns. I can still picture him working in extreme heat with a handkerchief tied around his neck (or on his head) and his strong, bare arms glistening with sweat. Every time I see gardenias in the backyard of my building in Miami, I remember the gardenias and oregano growing in large pots on their front porch.

Last, but certainly not least, George Sarris was omnipresent in the foyer of St. Basil's Church on Stanislaus Street at the end of his life, taking care of the candles -- while actually having been one of the Founding Fathers of that church as Greek-Americans got settled in Stockton in the 20's and 30's. He left his village Kiparissi, Lakonias, (accesible only by sea) in 1910 along with others looking for a better life...

Quiet, industrious, strong-minded, dependable, gentle, not showy -- that was my Papou.

Please post memories of your Papou by clicking on the "Comments" link at the bottom of this post, so that they can be shared with others.

Steve, Faith & March 25th

(Reprinted from The Basilian -- March 2013, Stockton, CA)

"Family Memories & Histories, Let’s Not Forget Them!"
By Paula Xanthopoulou

Steve & Faith

March 1st would have been my dad Steve Xanttopoulos’ 93rd birthday and on March 25th we celebrate Greek Independence Day. In that spirit, here is a photo of my father (about 6 years-old?) and his sister Faith in traditional costumes taken in Naoussa circa 1926, about 3 years before they would land in San Francisco. They may have feared leaving all and everything they knew behind, even for the States -- but they lived their American Dreams to the fullest, primarily as part of the Greek community in Stockton, California.

While I live in Miami, Florida, I find that my heart is very often in Stockton – where I lived with my parents through graduation from UOP in 1967. Indeed, I have just been invited to my 50th Stagg High School reunion in September. Yikes!

Stockton is where my family memories are, especially as members of St. Basil’s Greek Orthodox Church – where my parents Angeline (Sarris) and Steve Xanttopoulos were married in 1942, where my brothers (George and Bill) and I were baptized, and where my parents’ funeral services were held in 2002 and 2007. More recently, I was moved during the special services for receiving the holy relic of St. Basil, truly someone to look up to.

Our lives growing up revolved around the church. I remember the Friday nights before Easter -- at the church on Stanislaus Street – when it was me and my Mom singing the hymns while she played the organ. I loved Greek School (despite getting carsick each time we drove across town), and my favorite Sunday School teachers were Zoi Arvanitis and Harriet Frances. My mother was a devoted, all-purpose volunteer/organizer, especially for the making of festival pastries. My father typically counted the years of his life according to the number of St. Basil’s priests he had worked with (Father Luke was #17) and the number of festivals he had worked on (47). They would have loved being at Festival #50 and at my nephew Alex’s recent wedding in Virginia.


Church Ladies 1965

Recently I came across my parent’s Wedding License. It was signed by my dad’s uncle, Christ Huntalas, and by George Lekos, who would later become my godfather; it was also signed by Rev.D. Smyrnopoulos. I have also saved a photo of certain Stockton Greek Church Ladies visiting Father Smyrnopoulos in retirement somewhere near Athens in 1965; they were (from left-to-right) my grandmothers Pauline Xanttopulos and Evghenia Sarris, Agapi Eliopoulos(back), Pauline's sister Eleni Huntalas, and my aunt Faith Pappas. In 1974, I went with Aunt Faith and Uncle Pete Pappas to visit Kiparissi, Lakonias, where Uncle Pete and my grandfather George Sarris were born; we had to go by boat, since there was no road until 1980. Almost 40 years later (last November), I finally went back to that village; this time by the bus that goes there twice-a-week. And while in Stockton this past Christmas, I spoke about Kiparissi with Andy Pappas as we reminisced about his dad and our “Uncle George,” Pete’s brother. In some ways, we came full circle…

I having been collecting documents, stories, information and photos of my family on both sides for some time because I feel a strong obligation to do what I can so that their stories and history not be forgotten – and also because it’s part of a bigger story of Greeks in Stockton and their own histories in the “The Old Country.” I sincerely hope that others have been doing the same.

Hronia polla, kai kala!

On Corned Beef & Cabbage and More...

Today had me thinking of corned beef and cabbage. My mother made it for us on occasion, not necessarily St. Patrick's Day.  She loved to try new recipes, and there were some other not-so-Greek items on the menu at 2445 Gardena Avenue. Sauteed pork chops and Rice-a-Roni (cooked with chicken broth), for example, were a popular staple -- but always with a green salad of lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes, red onions and finished with oregano, Greek olive oil and Barengo Red Wine Vinegar. Hold the feta.

Clam chowder, Manhattan-style (red, not white), was a specialty in keeping with a tradition stemming from my Papou George Sarris. He was a cook in his early years in Crockett and then at the Palace Candy Store. It was the Kron's of Stockton -- hand-made chocolates, my Yiayia Sarris worked on those -- with a diner-like restaurant, located next to the old Fox Theater on Main Street and owned by his sister Sophia and her husband Bill Demakopoulos.  I have fond, if somewhat grainy, memories visiting my Papou back in the kitchen and then sitting in one of the padded booths with my Mom to eat turkey w/mashed potatoes and gravy -- very cool! 

In his later years, Papou made the clam chowder every Friday night at the house on Alpine Street, where we would congregate along with the Nick Demas Family. The recipe for that soup can be found on page 50 of the recently-published St. Basil's Church "International Cookbook." And, yes, the soup will not be right if you rush it.

And what about Mom's Jello Salad -- normally made with green jello, cottage cheese or cool whip, and crushed pineapple?  She often brought that to family Thanksgivings and wherever else it was requested. I love that jello and should make it more often.

Looking through my Mom's collection of hand-written recipes, I see a few more not-so-Greek ones, like "Lee's Crab Mix."  That would be her pal Lee Howard -- and it was a crab salad with 4 cracked crabs, mayonnaise, garlic, lemon juice, and sherry. My mother loved crab, and from her I learned to eat the stuff in the carcass as well as the legs. In the good old days, we used to shop for crabs at the Busalacchi Fish Market on Channel Street that had sawdust on the floor (and was unfortunately torn down in 1963).  We also got beautiful halibut steaks there that she baked with oil, lemon juice, and the ubiquitous oregano most probably grown by my Papou on his front porch.

It didn't matter what kind of food we were served -- as long as it was cooked by Mom or Yiayia or Papou. You know what I mean!