Saganaki with Quince Sauce. A Taste of Greece in My Kitchen

Fried cheese, quince sauce, and what happens when Romania meets Greece in a kitchen.

Saganaki with Quince Sauce

Saganaki is one of those things you order in Greece without thinking too much about it. It comes out fast, it's hot, it's simple, and it disappears from the plate before you've properly started eating.

The name comes from the small two-handled pan it's traditionally cooked in. The most common version is cheese, thick, fried until the outside is crispy and the inside is just barely holding itself together. There are versions with shrimp, mussels, or eggs, but if it's your first time, cheese is the one.

Saganaki with Quince Sauce

I was still in Romania when I made this version. I wanted the dish, I didn't have graviera, and I had quince jam in the pantry.

So I improvised.

I haven't fully figured out the plating yet. But it tasted exactly right.

Graviera is the classic choice for saganaki. A hard, aged Greek cheese with enough structure to hold up in a hot pan. If you can't find it, use any well-aged cheese that won't completely fall apart when it hits oil.

How I made it

Cut a thick slice of cheese. Coat it in flour, dip it in egg, then breadcrumbs. Fry it in a hot pan with olive oil, a couple of minutes on each side until it's golden.

For the sauce: warm up quince jam with a splash of orange juice, a small pour of balsamic vinegar, a pinch of salt, and a sprig of rosemary. It takes about three minutes and the kitchen smells very good.

Pour the sauce over the cheese while everything is still hot. Serve immediately, saganaki does not wait.

Why quince

Quince and cheese is not a Greek combination. It's Romanian, in the sense that quince jam (gutui) is something every Romanian grandmother makes in autumn and every Romanian kitchen has a jar of at some point.

The sharpness of an aged cheese and the sweetness of quince with a little acidity from the balsamic, it works. The rosemary ties it together.

It's not a traditional recipe. It's what happens when you cook with what you have and what you know, and the two things turn out to be compatible.

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Soon I'll be making this in Greece, with actual graviera, in a proper saganaki pan.

Have you tried saganaki in Greece or made it at home? I'd love to know what cheese you used.