Travelling via train across Greece West to East is not really possible or advisable, especially as my old pal Pavlos was prepared to drive us.
After happily dropping €100 en route in a mountain village farm shop on wine, cheese and merely one of the three kinds of honey that the same man has been producing for 50 years we reached Thessaloniki.
Thessaloniki is the second city of Greece and rather like the second city of another small country surrounded by islands where one happens to reside, is in most ways preferable to the capital. Less pricey, less tourist-focused and as the locals here claim, ‘Like a big village’.
Whilst Sancho idled her time away looking at earth-toned vests -how many can one person really need? More, I was assured- I broke out the old google telephonic whatsit to locate Valenio.
Coffee is as ubiquitous in Greece as Italy. The general standard very good, but not as good as in Italy as the Greeks seem to value strength and a dark roast above all. They also have their national variants; Greek (certainly NOT Turkish) coffee, ie. boiled and reduced in a pot, served tiny and Frappé.
Frappé is the only acceptable use of instant coffee that I can envisage, apart from sprinkling it over vomited-on carpets or mouldy caravan interiors prior to hoovering in an attempt to try to mask the smell. Frappé’s are iced coffees made with whisked instant, a little sugar and even milk if you must. They are then magnetically attached to the hands of Greeks sitting in cafés, strolling around, driving small, scuffed but effective cars, leaning on pushchairs or resting on the fuel tank of their Police motorcycle and periodically imbibed through a straw. In context, they can actually be a very acceptable drink.
Unfortunately for the Greeks, coffee and food generally is no longer cheaper than in the northern EU so I had no qualm, as if I would, to make for the most upmarket coffee shop and roasters in town.
Valenio served us excellent coffee (I think €6.40 for two) and carries all the coffee-tech paraphernalia, branded baseball caps, aprons and tote bags one could desire. Staff kept an eye on me as I idly toyed with part of a cruise missile, which turned out to be a handheld, rechargeable and in every way adjustable portable electronic coffee grinder.
Valenio proudly comes in at number 28/100 of Europe’s best coffee shops, which to my mind sounds like an ideal piece of lifestyle journalism research for me if only expenses existed. Would anyone like to make me an offer?
Valenio weren’t giving away 250g of the ‘North’ house blend at €14 for 250g but it proved excellent. Something about the cut of my jib, or perhaps the straw trilby and Hawaiian shirt I was sporting encouraged the enthused barista to upsell me the limited Costa Rican roast at an astonishing €22, but it has since proved superb in subtle character and finish.
As often, I idly wondered what the poor people were doing.
Pavlos gave me his view as we gazed across the harbour, ‘In Greece a man gets up, goes out to get a frappé, chats to his friends and family and gets on with the day. In Britain a man gets up, goes to work, comes home and shouts at his wife.’
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