A while has gone by since my last post (part I of our European summer) , in which I promised more to come. A whirlwind of a new semester, and never enough time to settle down and write. I wish I could push writing back up to the Important Things on my List. More pressing matters always manage to come to the forefront: papers to grade, meals to cook, kids to rally, classes to teach.

Bruno and Olivia both started new schools with new schedules this fall: they now get in at 8 am, which is pretty early for Spanish standards. This implies that I’ve lost my quiet morning routine, now replaced by Bruno’s wake-up music blasting out into the house in the wee hours (he still has rare taste for a 14 year-old, but has set aside the Beatles for now, and gotten into Nirvana and ACDC) and having to coax Olivia into putting some kind of nutrition into her body before leaving the house and not eating for just way too many hours straight. Public middle/high schools in our area torture kids with the unfriendly schedule of 8am -2:30pm, with no lunch break in between. She spends the whole afternoon tired and starving.

Losing my precious me-time left me in mourning for the first few weeks, as the pre-dawn hours had been all mine until now. Change is the only constant.

The heated political tension that hit the streets of Barcelona these past few days (and now seems ubiquitous) finally encouraged me to spend a rare, sunny Friday morning at home alone coming back to myself through the space that is this blog. And I knew I had to make an effort to recover the mood that Sifnos left me with after our week there this summer, the most relaxing, enjoyable, real vacation time I’ve spent in many years.

We are now deep into Autumn: it’s pitch dark until well into the morning, and this week I witnessed one of the heaviest rainstorms since moving back to Spain (thankfully, from the warmth of my bed in the middle of the night). Crazy, the holidays are just around the corner. The Fall semester is like that, you take a deeeeeep breath as September hits, and then it’s gogogo non-stop until one day the Christmas decorations shock you into believing that another year is coming to its close.

By bringing back the warmth of Greece, I refuse to let go of the sweet memories of this past summer, our first summer back in the Mediterranean.

During our five consecutive cold Bay Area summers, we dreamt and reminisced of taking late strolls under the Mediterranean summer night sky, having dinner outside and sitting at the table for hours, because that’s when the air is nicest during the blazing summer season. We promised ourselves that our move back to Barcelona would come with a trip to Greece as soon as we could make it happen.

Israel and I had been to Greece twice before the kids were born: our first international trip together was to Crete, where we landed in the British pub-ridden nightmare of Malia, decided then and there to ditch the tour we had signed up for, rented a car and got lost in the mountains, to wind up on the tiny coastal villages I still dream of. A few years later, we spent a week on Paxos, a tiny island off of Corfu, where we went with no plans and lots of leisure time to sit in tavernas sipping frappés and reading or just contemplating. Our first serious conversation about having kids was in fact, on one of those lazy taverna days. So it was only logical to bring our kids to the place that had given us so much satisfaction (and even plans of them avant la lettre).

Horta (boiled seasonal greens) with revithia (chickpea stew) — *Horta* (boiled seasonal greens) with *revithia* (chickpea stew)

Greece is endless and timeless. Choosing our island for the summer was a bit of a daunting task, given the sheer amount of islands there are. But, how could we go wrong? We suspected that no matter where we landed, it would be gorgeous and just right, even if it meant ditching a totally wrong place like Malia.

After reading countless online reviews of islands, we settled on Sifnos, due to its size (quite small) and the fact that it wasn’t too hard to get to from the port of Piraeus (a 3-5 hour ferry ride). Also, it just so happens that Sifnos is known as a foodie haven, as the birthplace of Nikolaos Tselementes, the founding father of modern Greek cuisine. Tselementes wrote one of the first Greek national cookbooks in the early twentieth century and became somewhat of a celebrity. Sifnos ended up charming the four of us beyond measure. I may never want to vacation anywhere else again.

We have a longstanding family joke that whenever I arrive in a new place I’m really into, instead of saying “I like it here”, I always say “I want to come back here”. That’s how zen I am, always in the moment! The first time this actually happened was when we landed in Ciutadella on Menorca, and opened the door to the house we were staying in, on our first there in summer 2006. Bruno was a baby, I was already pregnant with Olivia, and Menorca is a very family-friendly island. For a long time, it remained my idea of paradise on Earth. But now, forget it; I’m done with the over-crowded Spanish islands. I want to go back to Greece every summer of my life, if I can.

What follows are some of our highlights, the reasons why I would return to Sifnos again and again. If only there weren’t so many other islands to explore. I almost hesitate to share this here, as I want Sifnos to remain as it is and not get ruined by mass travel. However, apparently Sifnos is famous for not being famous, as a recent New York Times story put it. Athenians vacation here more than foreigners, as it’s an easy weekend getaway from the crowded and chaotic capital of Greece (one of the ugliest cities I know, I’m sorry to say. I’m sure it has its corners, but I would rather avoid it altogether and hop on over to the islands straight from the airport).

Greek salad with mizithra, Sifnos cheese — Greek salad with *mizithra*, Sifnos cheese

1. The food! Clay pot cooking is one of the island’s star features (see #3). One of my favorites dishes, which Olivia and I indulged in again and again (which if fine because it’s pretty healthy, in spite of -or perhaps thanks to- the ungodly amounts of olive oil; Greece happens to be the #1 consumer per capita of olive oil in the world) was revithia, a chickpea stew cooked overnight in a huge clay pot in a wood-burning oven. Its simplicity is almost mind-boggling: I am gearing up to teach some Sifnos recipes at upcoming early 2020 workshops in the Bay Area (email me for info and dates), but alas, some of them seem almost too simple to teach. The older I get, the more I appreciate this style of absolutely pared-down-to-basics cooking. Its fuss-not purity, based on fresh, good ingredients, long and slow cooking times, and lots of love and sharing, speaks to me and embodies the Sobremesa philosophy to a tee. In a recent conversation about our mutual love for simple cooking with my new friend Tara, we concluded that the traditional vessel must play a huge role here; think of Moroccan tagines!

2. The size of the island: at just under 15 miles long, I never felt anxious that there was too much to see in a week. The slow pace of Greek island life helps, of course. Who cares whether you make it to just one or over 300 churches on the small island? There was plenty to enjoy even within our village of Artemonas, in the center of the island. Artemonas wasn’t on the coast, but offered so many options for just hanging out, watching the bright blue light slowly shift throughout the long days. A short walk to Apollonia, the island’s main town, allowed us to see more action, which we didn’t really crave at all. Plus, its central location made it ideal for accessing each of the island’s coasts, which are all charming in their own way.

3. Pottery: I didn’t know it when we booked, but Sifnos specializes in pottery, another passion of mine, which pairs divinely with food, of course. After learning this, I researched the best places to visit for ceramics, but also stumbled unexpectedly upon many tiny workshops hidden amongst windy village streets, where islanders young and old devoted themselves wholeheartedly to their craft. I remember the young Antonis Kalogirou from Sifnos Stoneware, who told me his story in perfect English: pottery is a 5 generation-long trade in his family. Antonis himself attended fancy international schools and went to university for Engineering before deciding to move back to the island to carry on with the family tradition. He was kind enough to spend a good while chatting and showing me around the family shop and workshop. . There was also the elegant Julie Tzanni, who quit a corporate job in Athens and returned to her ancestors’ island to continue in the traditional craft, and developed her own line of ceramic jewelry inspired by the island’s bounty. I brought home the most understated necklace, a silver chain with two tiny leaves in porcelain, reproducing two of the island’s plants. Finally, I cannot forget the picturesque man whose studio we visited in the remote northern town of Cheronissos, perhaps one of the oldest and most rustic ceramic makers on the island. He was so happy to welcome us in and show us his all of his rustic pots and other objects with funky shapes. It seemed like functional pottery, but we had no idea what they were meant for; neither, it seemed, did he, but he sure did get a kick out of it and we laughed together.

4. People on Sifnos were always happy to oblige. Time is not money on a small remote island; time is quality of life, which means spending it with others. And this was August, the busiest month of the year! I can only imagine what it’s like to travel here during low season; I’d love to experience it some time.

5. Our routine became almost a regimen from day one: this is real vacation. Upon arrival on Sifnos, we debated whether to rent a car to explore the island or not. The bus system on Sifnos turned out to be surprisingly efficient, and we fell into a comfortable, unquestioning pattern of taking the bus after breakfast to a different coastal town each day. They were all beautiful, even the larger town of Piaty Gialos, which we left for the very last day because Israel thought it would be too touristy, was heavenly and not at all crowded. Much of our days’ routine involved sitting on the veranda of our rental house, surrounded by bougainvillea. Life happened as we sat before, during, and after meals: locals passed by and greeted on foot, motorcycle or donkey; we even had an outdoor shower, which was much more comfortable than the indoor one, even though it meant exposing ourselves to all the passersby (something I don’t have much of a problem with, anyway).

6. Beach life on Sifnos: though we adore the Mediterranean, we are not really beach people. Due to a skin cancer back in 2008, I try to stay mostly covered during the warmest hours, and I’ve never really seen the point of tanning/sunbathing. Beach life in Greece means sitting at a taverna, in the shade of a vine, ordering coffee and then food or food and then coffee depending on the time of day, and getting up every now and then to take a dip in the water. The weather was absolutely perfect, though we got some pretty windy days; the temperature was never too high, thanks to the breezy air that was always passing through. The water temperature was absolutely ideal, and we found many fun spots to soak, and even snorkel. My favorite bathing was at Agia Marina, a solitary enough to skinny dip rocky corner on the far side of the port town of Kamares, which by the way is the cleanest port water I have ever seen.

This sunny Friday morning has turned into afternoon as I wrote and reminisced about lovely Sifnos, accompanied by many steepings of tea, heavenly silence, and a meal of greens and lentils smothered in peppery new-season olive oil with toasted walnuts, and then a snack of banana bread with more tea. This is how time feels when you’re stress-free: continuous, meaningful, flowing.

Sifnos is traditional Mediterranean at its best, I hope to return.

Our European Summer part II: Sifnos, Greece

Sign up for Sobremesa’s Substack: Table Talk