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Δευτέρα, 4 Αυγούστου 2014

Food memories of my childhood

photo credits: George Gkekas

Lately, I catch myself looking back to my childhood’s summer times at a seaside village in Aegina, reminiscing about odors and flavors. The way back from the nearby bakery, (where grandma used to send me), with my mouth full of hot, fresh bread, cut by hand, both with craving and guilt .The cool sips of homemade sour cherry juice which was always in the fridge, combined with water from our village’s natural source. Each one of the, usually, very hot mornings, I was peeping at my grandpa who used to have a bowl standing on his legs. He was either peeling off fresh beans, or juicy local figs laid at once on a porcelain plate until my sister and I ate them. In her kitchen ,grandma ,was preparing our rich breakfast , fried eggs, with olive oil ,with their deep orange yolks waiting for a piece of bread to be sinked into them. The delicious eggs were also accompanied with yesterday’s leftovers of grandma’s feta-cheese pie or spinach pie and a large bottle of morning’s goat milk, which she obtained from our neighbor. Although my sister and I used to look that goat milk, with disgust due to its smell, today it would probably make our eyes shine with joy. And, after swimming and playing, we were returning home for lunch ,which ,usually included seasonal vegetables ,cooked with fresh ,scented tomatoes, onions ,garlic and of course olive oil and served with feta cheese.

Dinner, for us, was, nectarines, slices of melon and watermelon eaten by hand and accompanied with feta cheese. Pistachios from a tree next to us, or a sandwich with tomatoes, olive oil and oregano.  Freshly , thick cut ,fried potatoes, eaten with outrageous desire and often caused battles between me and my sister, over the last ones.

Then, those rainy mornings seemed to appear more often than usual and the unforgettable smell of wet soil, provoked the snails to take their walk out to our yard, unsuspecting of their future. A delicious dish with lots of sliced onions and crushed tomatoes. That was the sign that our enjoyable, tasty vacations were coming to an end…

Stavroula Economaki | Food writer

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