Ever been a guest in a Greek household? If so, you’re probably no stranger to that warm -  perhaps even over zealous at times - generosity when it comes to food. From the stereotypical yiayia figure with force feeding superpowers, to that uncle who judges your non-carnivore diet, diplomacy is often part of the menu when eating with a Greek. All this capricious arm twisting is never ill-intentioned. It all comes from our deep, genuine need to share. When it comes to food, there’s always a story to share as well; be it collective or personal. Attending a cooking class, my first one ever, I wondered how much of each would be on the table.

Growing up, my mother insisted I help out in the kitchen. Back in 1995, it wasn’t that common for a 15-year-old Greek boy to know how to cook your basic Greek ladero (slow cooked veggies with tomato juice and olive oil). So, stepping into the open rooftop kitchen of The Artist hotel, I was already pretty up to speed with the dishes we would prepare. But what of the group? Naturally, we would all get more than we could eat. It’s the first thing that chef Fotis Paravas warns us, as we put on our aprons.

Time to try our hand at Greece’s most famous dish! Potatoes, eggplants, minced meat, béchamel sauce; that’s how you spell moussaka. Along with gyros and tzatziki, this Greek classic is arguably one of the most poorly photographed meals you’ll encounter on picture menus at the more touristy restaurants around Plaka. Not our moussaka. Ours is healthier - baked veggies, not fried - with a rich, seasoned minced meat sauce (cinnamon sticks this time please, not powdered) and a béchamel sauce so good you’d seriously consider marrying it, if you could. 

To the group’s collective awe, Fotis finely chops carrots and celery for the mince meat sauce without looking, while calmly reciting how he’s managed to cut himself with every imaginable thing in a kitchen, except a knife. There is, of course, a method to cutting with confidence, which he shares (but we won’t spoil the fun by spilling the beans).

Next up, another fêted Greek go-to: spanakopita (spinach pie). 

Over the hiss of sautéing onions in extra virgin Greek olive oil, Fotis tells us that it was the need to carry leftover food on the road to work - or the occasional war in ancient times – that gave birth to this quintessentially Greek grub. 

Unlike galatopita, spanakopita is a full meal in itself. You can have it for breakfast, lunch, a midday snack, hors d'oeuvre, even dinner. It’s the little black dress of Greek gastronomy.

“Some say that dill has no place in spanakopita. I say, ‘dill with it’,” quips Fotis as he tosses a generous amount of the aforementioned herb, finely chopped, along with other fresh herbs (some plucked from the flower bed right outside his kitchen window) into the spanakopita filling; now lush with added chunks of delicious Greek feta cheese.