From quick weeknight dinners to impressive weekend feasts
Explore our collection organized by cuisine type
2019, Kapedes. At Aunt Pepa’s house. Since I was a child, I admired her cooking skills, her food and sweets were more than just delicious. I can still remember her creamy desserts and fragrant cakes. I tell her this often, and she smiles at me the same way she did when I was little. But how life turns out, here I am now, sitting at her kitchen table with my notebook open, ready to learn how she makes her famous, wonderfully aromatic ravioles.
February 1982, Kofinou. I’m sitting with my father on the veranda of our family restaurant. My mother is in the kitchen cooking, while my father tells me stories about his village, Agios Ambrosios. He describes moments, images, and incidents, and I travel with him in my mind. The starting point of his memories is the village church, and from there he traces in detail the route to his house as if he’s drawing his own map with his hand on the table.“If I don’t make it back one day, my daughter, you must know how to find our home,” he says, taking a sip of zivania. That’s when my mother appears with a big frying pan in hand, serving us fresh agrelia (wild asparagus) with eggs. My father adores agrelia, he says they’re the perfect meze to go with zivania. He even pours a little into my glass. My mother scolds him, but he replies, “It’s just for us to say eviva (cheers),” and winks at me with a conspiratorial smile. That smile... I’ll never forget it. And every time I make this recipe, I cook it with his smile on my lips…
2000, Cheesefare Week, Lefkara. The sun is about to set, and my mother and I are walking uphill to the sheepfold of her sister, my Aunt Eleni. We find her at the kitchen table arranging the halloumi and anari cheese she made that morning. As soon as she sees us, she starts making dough. My job is to grate the halloumi. Half an hour later, I’m savoring her freshly made pourekia on the saj, my beloved aunt’s signature. The fresh halloumi made from goat and sheep milk is wonderfully fragrant, as is the mint she just picked from the yard. Her secret ingredient: excellent-quality products combined with caramelized onions in the filling, which give a sweet and unique flavor.
2022, June, Theletra. I am in this beautiful village in the Paphos district. During the filming of the state television cooking show, I meet Mrs. Androula Tryfonos, a very sweet lady, 74 years old. She greets me warmly and shakes my hand with love. “I saw you, my child, and I remembered you said on your show that you want to learn how we shape the daisy-shaped bread ring (koulouri margarita)”. Yes, I said, I tell her, and I am surprised she remembered it. “You said you want to learn about the koumoulies too, or as you call them in the capital, the dachtilies (finger-shaped)”. Do you want me to show you, my child?”. And of course I want to. Her offer moves me. Just as the people who are willing to share the secrets of our tradition and culture with us move me every time. I am like a little child from my joy. She gets teary-eyed, she feels that this “teaching” is more than just a recipe. It is a tradition passed from one generation to the next and kept alive over time. I soak up her every word, her every move. And of course, while she is teaching me the recipe, I think to myself how I will be forever grateful to her…
Summer 2017, Agios Theodoros. I’m at the Women’s Rural Association of Larnaca. Another gastronomic seminar is taking place, and I’m thrilled—as I always am when I get the chance to learn from people who preserve and celebrate Cyprus’s culinary traditions. Right beside me sits the lovely pastry chef Paraskevi Loulli from Athienou, showing us how to make the famous Athienitic bread. “Just flour, salt, sourdough starter, and water,” I hear her say. Her voice and the way she describes the recipe instantly take me back to my childhood. As a little girl, I used to go to the traditional bakery in Kofinou and help out with small tasks. Every now and then, I’d stand there, fascinated, watching the kneading and shaping of the loaves. I always wondered about the cuts they made around each loaf with a razor before baking. I later learned the reason: “so that the bread expands evenly while baking.” Even today, whenever I visit Kofinou, I always stop by the traditional bakery to buy bread from our family friends. And if it’s a busy hour, I gladly put on an apron and rush to help. Some habits never fade...
