Some moments, when the aromas of the spices I use emerge from my pots, I close my eyes and mentally transport myself to my childhood in Kantili, on the Bosphorus, during the days of Panagia, when we celebrated and there was a feverish preparation at home, with Grandma Vatsitsa at the helm of the kitchen, Mama Sofoula next to her, Elenaki and Makrouitsa in assisting roles... They were all in a constant conflict with Grandma over which spice suits the stew better, with the eternal argument not to change the cooking habits of these specific dishes, because there are the eternal unwritten laws of the Constantinopolitan Cuisine. Laws that have not changed, nor will they ever change!

Spices are the richness in our life and food. They are the magical wand of every cook, which can transform a simple dish into a feast of flavors and magic, with sensual and even aphrodisiac aromas. A few grains enclosed in a tiny bottle that, once released, make their presence 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.