Sometimes, when the aromas of the spices I use waft from my pots, I close my eyes and mentally transport myself to my childhood in Kandilli on the Bosphorus, to the days of the Virgin Mary, which we celebrated with a fever of preparations at home, with Grandma Vasitsa at the helm of the kitchen, Mom Sofoula by her side, little Elenaki and Makrouitsa in supporting roles... They were all in constant conflict with Grandma over which spice suited the stew best, with the perpetual argument not to change the cooking habits of these particular dishes, because there are the eternal unwritten laws of the Politiki Cuisine. Laws that have not changed and will never change!

Spices are the wealth in our life and our food. They are the magic wand of every cook, capable of transforming a simple dish into a feast of taste and magic, with sensual, even aphrodisiac aromas. A few grains enclosed in a tiny bottle that, once released, make their presence so strongly felt, like every precious commodity placed in a small package.

And let's not forget that the way to the heart passes through the stomach.