he monks of Mount Athos have long been known for their quiet, austere lifestyle on an all-male Greek

extraordinarily low cancer, heart disease heimer's among the

rhood thanks to a diet

brothers and samples , seasonal cuisine.

I for you to cook at home.

The life ascetic

l Does the secret of the Athos monks' longevity lie in relentless self-disciphe, or in their rustic cuisine? Stephen Moss travels to the Mount- steeping hunself

in lentils and liturgy - to find out ...

T he morning is grey and wet when I present myself at the Holy Executive of the Holy Mount Athos - Pilgrims' Bureau (big name, small office) in Ouranopolis. I am here for a permit to visit Athos, an

autonomous monastic state in north-eastem Greece. The peninsula on which the 20 historic Athonite monasteries are set is 50km long and lokm wide, none of it accessible from mainland Greece by road, and the combination of isolation and government by monks has locked it, give or take the odd 4x4, somewhere in the middle ages. The 2,500 rugged, heavily

/ bearded monks who live here are leading / a 14th-century existence, in a land where

women are forbidden, and I have come to unlock its health-giving secrets.

There is a certain absurdity at the heart of

i my mission: I want to know how the monks live for so long and in such rude health, with startlingly low levels of cancer, virtually no heart disease and zero Alzheimer's; yet what

I preoccupies the monks of Mount Athos is their own transience. They wear black to remind themselves of their own mortality. While death is my mortal enemy, to them it is a welcome friend, a true beginning.

At Iviron - a magnificent, fortress-like

monastery - I am greeted at by a soft-voiced Australian-born monk called Father Jeremiah, who directs me to a room on the second floor of the guest wing. It is small but perfect: bed, tiny desk, bedside table, two straight-backed chairs, plastic wastepaper bin, pair of plastic sandals tucked under the bed. Two grey-blue doors open on to a wooden balcony, with a view of the monastery gardens directly below.

It's 7.45pm and I'm already on monastic time - falling asleep, ready for bed. Monastic time differs from conventional time in several ways. The day, for example, is deemed to start at sunset rather than midnight. In winter the monks' first service, called midnight office, is at 2.3oam. It runs into matins between 3am and 4am and the liturgy from 4.30am to 6am, forming what is, in effect, an unbroken three and a half hour service through the night. I am encouraged to attend the liturgy. The monks assume midnight office will be beyond me. The monks are proved correct.

Father Jeremiah, a kindly 52-year-old who came to Athos in 1981, tells me he usually sleeps from iipm to zam, attends the night- time s e ~ c e , then rests again before the morning meal at 9.30am. That is followed by four hours' work (each monk has a specific "obedience", such as cooking, carpentry or

&culture), vespers at 3pm, the evening meal at 4.3opm, and compline, the post-meal service, at 5pm. I attend vespers soon after Pniving and, while the chanting has a certain hypnotic quality, I find it tough going. A middle-aged pilgrim in a leather jacket tells me off for crossing my legs during the service.

After vespers it is time for the evening meal - 4.30pm counts as evening. The monks and lay pilgrims, who number around 20, eat together in the refectory but at separate tables. The meals - strictly two a day - are treated ss part of the service, with monks processing back and forth from church to refectory. No talking is permitted during the meal; instead a

, monk reads from The Lives of the Saints. The abbot, at the head of the table, keeps an eye on

: how the diners are progressing, and when he , reckons the pace of eating is slowing he dings

a little bell, the reading ends, grace is said and everyone iiles out. You have to eat relatively quickly, as the bell can sound unexpectedly. Ee was four meals before I'd worked out the corzect pace.

This first supper comprises a lukewarm S but not unpleasant fish and rice soup, brown '

bread (no butter - dairy is the devil), a small piece of pasta bake, a small piece of fish, a m a l l piece of feta, a small glass of monastery- produced wine (thin-bodied, slightly sour but perfectly serviceable), an apple and a piece of cake. I've only just started on the cake and haven't even been tempted by the apple when the abbot sounds time. I know I'll be peckish later, yet I also know it is enough. The meal, Father Jeremiah tells me later, was made with leftovers from that morning's special New Year's Day meal. The aim is that nothing should be wasted.

The monks usually fast on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, though because I am there during a religious festival - a feast period - there is no fasting (thank God). The monks never eat meat, regardless of the day, but on fast days they also avoid fish, all dairy products, eggs, olive oil and wine. That leaves them with rice, pasta, bread, fruit, vegetables and lentils; I sense they eat a lot of lentils. They also fast for 40 days before Easter and Christmas, and for the first fortnight in August, in honour of the Virgin Mary. That means that for half of the year the monks are fasting. They are convinced this is good for them, expelling impurities from their bodies.

When the abbot reckons the pace of eating is slowing he dmgs a little bell and everyone files out. You have to eat relatively quickly - it was four meals before I'd worked out the correct pace

There is not much to do in the evening - no monkish Scrabble or charades. I sleep for a while between 9pm and llpm, wake up, read for an hour or so, then fall asleep again before rising for the service at qam. These sleeping patterns would take some getting used to. During the early-morning liturgy, I am

overwhelmed by a sense of my own mortality and start to calculate how many hours the average person can expect to live. I am horrified to find that, even if you live as long as an Athonian monk, this number is well short 1 of a million. The brevity makes me wonder about these two hours I'm spending listening to the liturgy in Greek. In reality, it's not quite two hours because halfway through I feel faint 1 - a combination of lack of sleep and the smell , of incense - and slump forward in my seat. I , feel I'm going to be sick, and wonder how the monks would react. I go and sit outside for a while, and eventually revive.

The morning meal is a delight: lentil soup m

sewed in a shallow aluminium dish, a piece of , oily fish, a green salad with olive oil, a piece of feta, brown bread, a glass of wine, a delicious oatcake, an orange and a handful of crushed

I

Lcmkake. but decide not

W over-fua and where else would I get to bed wine at nine in the morning and be &;nwsgoodforme7 brtfoll~dayImcweupthecoastt0 ped& the largest monastery on Athost at L m Q l a l S e s h s t a y e d m d ~ns .Youcanund~dtf ieagpealto &esoftheOrth&doPrchurchandmonastlc qith its rejection of the ust cmtuw, Iafrommdty, rommunity, fad , love of

~tassoonas~arriw,it'stinrefor em, which is more fonnal than at Iviron. A

Near theend of theservice, inagbiouscrotq, de W&e, the abbot and four priest-monks enter in glittering red robes. Again I am chastised: a SetMan pi- tells me to take my hands out of my pockets as we're leaving the church.

We eat at 4.30pm: broad beans, spinach, monastery-baked bread, home-grown kiwi fruits and oranges, and delidous oatcakes (the sad-Iaokbg man next to me staffs three), but no cheese and, worse, no wine (thou& I am told later there should have been a flask on the We). After ompliae, the post-meal service, Father Matthew and I talk for threequarters of an hour. Then a bell tolls and he says he has to dash. It is just &er 6pn and the evening stretches ahead of me. Perhaps 700,ow hours isenou&afterdl.Igotoskpatupm& amasathon I like the faet there is no W, radio or internet, and that you have to fall bade on book and M-intemgwion.

A monk thougRtfuIly calls at 3am to tell me the service is starting. I'm not sure whether attendance is obligatory and go back to bed, but I can? sleep, so wash, shave and head

iwn3s the pieh-bladc cfmtymd to the church. r ' m ~ ~ ~ 4 a m , ~ o f ~ o f

1 the other pqgims. M y bushy-bearded Serbian 1, t o m a t o r doesn't shcpwundl justafter5am.

Ighehhaasmuglook. I~theservkewlllend.asatIviron,at

CiSLHl@ndWfo~togoingbacktobed. It &i?sapaear to be wlndiag down erround then, ~ f ~ t o l e a v e . B u t i t i s o n l y e v o l v i n g t o

~ , k b i f r u i t , anorange, cakewithahint

half of the year the monks

i are fastmg. They are convinced this is good for them, impurities from their bodies

Monks at hriron prepare a simple supper of fish and rice soup - to be washed down with a homebrewed glass of red wine

of chocolate on top, and a sizeable helping of crushed almonds. Still no wine, though.

Five hours in church is a long haul, and I hide the following morning when I get the 2.3oam call. I have to leave on the 9.30a.m bus, and need some sleep. I've enjoyed the food and the tranquillity, but getting up at 2.30 every morning and spending eight hours a day in church would be too much for me. The monks have somehow learned to transcend boredom; with God on your side, anything is possible.

I head back to the port of Dafni. With an hour to wait for the boat back to the Greek ,

mainland and the influence of the Holy Mountain perhaps receding, I have a Nescafe and a pastry filled with spinach - a kind of Greek Cornish pasty. I feel a touch guilty about this until I spot a young monk at a nearby table eating a pastry and drinking a large bottle of Amstel beer. Oh well, nobody's perfect.

The food

Artichokes with potatoes -8

10 fairly large artichokes (frozen or tinned can also be used) 0.5kg potatoes 10 small onions, peeled and chopped 1-2 tbsp olive oil 1 handful dill 1 handful of parsley 3-4 springs fresh oregano sea salt and black pepper Lemon juice to taste

Carefully clean the artichokes, removing their hard surfaces and hairy "choke". Place them in a bowl of water with the juice of two freshly squeezed lemons so they don't discolour. Clean and cut the potatoes lengthways and add them to the bowl with the artichokes. Heat the olive oil in a large frying pan, and lightly saute the onions.

Drain the artichokes and potatoes and add to the pan. Add enough water to cover and simmer for around 30 minutes, stirring occasionally. In the final 10 rnins of cooking, season with salt, pepper, oregano and dill.

Once the liquid has been mostly absorbed, add lemon juice to taste, stir in the parsley and remove from the heat.

Photographs: David Munns Food stylist: Marie-Ange Lapierre Props stylist: Llz Belton

Peas with pilaf rice

the peas and set aside. Put the olive oil a saucepan and saute the onions over a low

the peas and rice and stir. Cover with , h e r (you'll need around 1.5 times water to $W. &ason, add the egg yolk and turn up the .~.&kWuntil b o W . Then turn the heat down very '.,&and simmeFgently for around 15 minutes. - , @minue stining until the liquid has evaporated.

: :, Chickpea patties Semm4-5

It and black pepper teaspoon of cumin seeds.

h z the chickpeas in a blender with the garlic, hlbn, parsley, seasoning, cumin and flour. Tip i h & ~ a bowl and add the beaten egg. Mix well $%@form a sticky dough. Place in the fridge for

bminutes. Heat the oil in a large frying pan, daape the patties one by one, and fry over a low , k t to prevent them reddening on the outside Btld remaining raw inside.

&,l ' - ,, . ,.- d. , . , ..!J . .. . - ,: 3. . .' . 2,; .:, .., .?,:'-

W- :,, -.; S?, &C,, :- .G,. .F .L;$; - ,, . -

~~$&,,.$~;~:::.",~ ,J$+!$?J . ;>v

.I:: l ...c ... d .L U , 7 .a--* ,. . .

Cuttlefish with rice -6

lkg cuttlefish or three large squid 5009 rice 2 onions, finely chopped l handful dill, finely chopped 2 ~ ~ S D S 0livtI 011 Sea salt and black pepper Juice of three lemons

Put the cuttlefish in a large pot, cover with water, then bring to the boil. Simmer for 5 to 10 minutes. Skim the foam from the surface of the water. Remove the fish from the water and cut into small pieces. Set the cooking liquid to one side.

Saute the onions in the olive oil, add the rice and stir to coat them. Add the cuttlefish stock to the rice (you'll need about 1.5 times water to rice), throw in the dill, salt and pepper and bring to the boil. Turn the heat down very low and leave to simmer for 15 minutes, allowing the rice to absorb all the liquid. Add the lemon juice to taste. This can also be served as a "red" dish by

adding fresh chopped or pureed tomatoes.

Fish soup F - seardt#rdtnslr(ysrowwlbLl€kpap~ar H;rW a tsmmm of ground cwnin reads 2 tbsps alive OH

Place the fish m a large saucepan, pour over cold water to cover and bring to the boil. Skim off any foam that gathers on the water's surface. Meanwhile, chop the potatoes, onions, carmts and celery and fry gently in the olive oil. Add the vegetables and salt to the fish in its stock, and cook at a steady simmer for 20 minutes. Add finely chopped parsley, dill, pepper, cumin and lemon juice to taste.

Five recipes taken from The Clriaine of Mount Athos, by Brother Epifanios, publish4 in Greek by Synchroni Orhontes Publicatio~~s