Sometimes, when the aromas of the spices I use waft up from my pots, I close my eyes and mentally transport myself back to my childhood in Kandili by the Bosporus, during the days of the Virgin Mary, when I would celebrate and the house would be buzzing with preparations, with Grandma Vassitsa at the helm of the kitchen, Mom Sofoula by her side, little Elena and Makrouitsa in supporting roles...

They were all in constant conflict with Grandma over which spice best suited the stew, with the everlasting argument being not to change the cooking habits of those specific dishes, because there are the eternal unwritten laws of Constantinopolitan Cuisine. Laws that have not changed and never will!

Spices are the wealth in our life and food. They are the magic wand of every cook, which can transform a simple dish into a feast of flavor and magic, with sensual, even aphrodisiac aromas. Just a few grains confined in a tiny bottle that, once unleashed, make their presence felt just like any precious commodity packaged in a small container.

And let’s not forget that the way to the heart goes through the mouth.