Agios Efrosinos


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Sweet Potatoes – Natural Colors

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I bought some sweet potatoes and experimented.

They are a little expensive for potatoes. However, they aren’t just potatoes. It’s like we call an electric bicycle a bicycle, but it’s not just a bicycle.

Anyway. I cut them with the machine I use for potato chips and fried them.

I was impressed with the color they had inside them when I cut them. Before I did anything else, I put them on my work table and photographed them.

Although I know the sweet potatoes as food (potato chips), they were fine for desserts. I sprinkled them with salt and cinnamon and I suggest them to accompany or garnish other desserts.


Mercouri Estate

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On Monday, on my day off, I found time to return to the Mercouri Estate in Katakolo.

Although Katakolo was farther than I had estimated, the national road to Patras was hell, the Mercouri Estate was a little oasis.

Vineyards near the sea, cool cellars, and finally a tour of the estate. As a chef, it is a trip I recommend unreservedly.

P.S. During my visit, the chef of the estate was making compositions with fruit and flowers in the outdoor dining area.


Aglaia Kremezi

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Aglaia Kremezi is my favorite author of cookbooks.

I have almost all of her books (a couple I believe I don’t have because I loaned them out).

They embellish the library of the chef and have always given me useful advice.

Rarely have I made a recipe of Aglaia’s and not succeeded.

By chance last week, a customer and friend told me that years ago Aglaia came to Loutraki and stayed at his hotel for her summer holidays.

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I wasn’t always a cook

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I wasn’t always a cook. For three years, I travelled around the Aegean in a small sailboat, working as a cook, as a carpenter, as resourceful Odysseus gathering experiences. Now, far away from these images, above my pots, I can remember it as a summer dream.


Two years ago, before the start of my journey to Kithira, I bought a sailboat, I found her abandoned in a dirty marina in the port of Piraeus. Her indifferent owner was selling because, from the day he bought her, she began slowly being destroyed through his boredom and neglect.

The sea is jealous of those who take pleasure in her. She ruined everything on that neglected boat that a dreamer’s eyes like mine could see, and everything they couldn’t see.

Two whole years I spent unscrewing rusty screws, endlessly questioning engineers, carpenters, upholsterers and painters. I cleaned and dirtied, spoiled and fixed a sailboat fastened to posts in a dockyard where I could not even see the sea.

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