I’ve just been fortunate enough to spend a few days in sunny Greece.
It’s many a moon since I’ve been here. A fleeting visit to Mykonos last year was the last time and before that a childhood trip to Crete, so long ago that all I remember is remote beaches, the azure Mediterranean sea and a bee, buzzing around me as I drank something probably far too sweet.
This trip brings me to Thessalonica in the North-Eastern tip, known as the ‘fingers’ of Greece – three giant spits protruding out from the country’s side.
The food here is exquisite, living up to all the high hopes one has when you think about Grecian food – beautiful grilled fish, fresh salads, creamy tzaziki, stunning salty olives, fried aubergines and courgettes and feta, plenty of creamy, tangy feta.
The Greek salad is a glorious invention – a meal my sister and I often share when we visit each other’s houses, but a dish that tastes best in its country of origin.
My great friend Yianni, who runs the infamous burger joint The Meat Wagon and is now turning out cracking food down at The Rye in Peckham, hails from Greece, and he taught me his version of the classic salad, commonly known as ‘horiatiki’ or ‘peasant salad’, while cooking together the other day.