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I love a Greek meal of grilled fish, potatoes and horiatiki salad (also known as Greek salad) as much as the next person. But what I’ve come to learn is that the cuisine of Greece is much more regional than the handful of dishes often associated with the Greek islands. I’ve just returned from my second trip to Crete, which is renowned for its intricate craft culture and rich cuisine.
Like much of the southern Mediterranean, Cretan cooking is about simple technique and high-quality local produce. Mountain herbs and greens, bulbs, honey, goat, goat’s cheese and fish are abundant over and around the island. Then, of course, there’s the olive oil, known around the world for its exceptional quality. Cretan friends have told me that most people don’t buy commercial olive oil. Families have olive trees and harvest the fruit, which is sent to a communal press to be turned into oil.
When visiting Crete, I stay at Ammos, a small seaside hotel in the north-west of the island. The hotel has been run by Nikos Tsepetis for the past 30 years. Ammos has a bit of a cult following. During my time there, I spoke to several families who have been coming every summer for 13 years. It’s difficult to put a finger on exactly what makes it so special. I think it has to do with the way a place can make you feel. I always say that most people go to restaurants in the hope they’ll be made to feel good. Sure, the food plays a part. But more than anything, we all want to feel comfortable, taken care of (but not bothered)… When it comes to a hotel, this desire is compounded by a million.
At Ammos, Nikos acts more like an orchestra conductor than a hotelier. His staff have worked in the hotel season after season. One of the longest-serving staff members, Edi, has been there for 28 years and has done every job. On my most recent stay, he rocked my two-year-old son to sleep in his pram as we had dinner. Nikos doesn’t use any reservations platforms, so anyone that stays at Ammos must book directly through him. He plays a bit of chess when booking guests. He thinks about which guests will get along with others, and tries to encourage people to book at certain times in order to ensure harmony. I left the hotel with a couple of new friends who I look forward to meeting again next year. I can’t help but think he had a hand in this matchmaking.
On my last night at the hotel, Nikos and I hosted a Cretan meal on the roof and invited several guests from town to join. A woman named Evridiki came from a village nearby to cook a typical Cretan meal, which is usually reserved for weddings. She invited me into the kitchen to show me how to make these recipes. She slaughtered two chickens and a goat the night before and we prepared a gamopilafo, a rice dish made of chicken and goat stock. We cooked the rice with sheep butter and served it with lots of lemon. Nikos employs only women in the kitchen, and I had a great afternoon. There is an immediate intimacy one finds when cooking with others that’s difficult to come by any other way. Immediately we were exchanging stories of growing up, of our mothers and families.
We drank Lefkos, a local white wine made from Vidiano grapes by a young vintner named Iliana Malihin. Dessert was kserotigana, fried ribbons of dough soaked in honey. Traditionally they are placed on the table first, before the meal, then removed to make way for the pilaf before being brought back at the end. Evridiki showed me how to roll out the dough using a pasta sheeter, and then quickly drop the sheets into the sizzling oil while twirling to create a flower-like shape. I’ve seen versions of this all over the Middle East and the Mediterranean. Nikos explained that this meal is symbolic of celebrations, and is considered an offering from one family to another. This brought me back to thinking about what makes one feel at home in a hotel. The most fitting answer seems to be a generosity of spirit.
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