Being Greek means that I have a 5-liter bottle of extra virgin olive oil underneath my kitchen sink at any given time, a large jar of Greek dried mountain oregano in my cupboard and canisters filled with coarse sea salt.
I have onions and garlic by the dozen in my pantry, flat-leaf parsley, dill and mint in my fridge, bread always close at hand.
I have feta and anthotyro, graviera and kefalotyri waiting to become part of a delicious pie or to complement my everyday meals.
I have red-wine vinegar and dried legumes, all the kinds—gigantes and small white beans, lentils and chickpeas, and above all, my favorite, lathouri, for fava.
I have an assortment of Greek honeys on my shelves—wild thyme, fir, pine, chestnut, acorn—for drizzling over bread with butter at breakfast, stirring into my tea or chamomile to soothe a sore throat, adding them to a myriad of Greek savory and sweet dishes, elevating their flavor in the process.
I have Greek ground coffee, mountain (τσάι του βουνού), lemon balm (μελισσόχορτο) and linden (τίλιο) teas available to cure any ailment or satisfy a craving.
Being Greek means I have a soft spot for Gemista and Biftekia, and more often than not, dessert and savory pies on my mind.
My love of pies is known, especially if you follow me on Instagram, and I make no effort to hide my fondness for all things sweet, particularly when they are Greek and drenched in syrup. Enter portokalopita.
Portokalopita translates to orange pie, and it falls under the category of Greek desserts known as Σιροπιαστά/Siropiasta, meaning soaked in syrup. Others include baklava, galaktoboureko, kadaifi, ravani and more.
Portokalopita for me is one of the most flavorful and aromatic Greek cakes. Even though upon tasting it you may think that you’re eating a sponge cake, it is quite impressively made with phyllo that has been cut and dried to absorb all the liquids added to it, orange juice included. When baked, and when the recipe is right, it becomes impossibly fluffy and juicy from the drenching of the fragrant sugar syrup that’s flavored with yet more orange.
Made with olive oil, sunflower oil and Greek yoghurt, it is soft, airy, moist and sticky with a slightly crisp top. This time, I decided to use blood oranges, which are in season, to add extra depth and complexity of flavor, aroma and a vibrant color to my portokalopita, and I was surely right to do so.
The blood orange slices on top are not decorative, though they could be, but serve to enhance the cake’s moisture and juiciness, balancing its sweetness with the tangy and bitter undernotes of the peel. They aren’t raw, mind you; I’ve treated the fruit like I would if I were to make confit orange slices, but stopped before adding them to a sugar syrup, to preserve that delicate bitterness which perfectly offsets the sweetness of the cake.
So, here it is; beautiful portokalopita with blood oranges, fit for a celebration or as a sweet accompaniment to your afternoon coffee. Hope you enjoy it!
Portokalopita – Greek orange pie/cake with blood oranges
As with all desserts that are drenched in syrup, timing is everything. With portokalopita, as soon as the cake comes out of the oven, hot and steamy, it needs to get soaked in the cool, or even cold sugar syrup.
As mentioned in the main body of this post, the blood orange slices are not decorative. They provide a slightly bitter/tangy flavor that complements and balances the sweetness of the cake. I wouldn’t suggest you skip them, but even if you don’t add them to your portokalopita, it will still taste amazing.