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I remember with absolute clarity the first time, at the age of 15, I ate a Greek salad; the crisp, thick slices of cucumber; the tangy, salty feta cheese; bitter black olives; sweet slivers of red onion; the most intensely tomatoey tomatoes I had ever encountered and everything dressed with a slick of extra virgin olive oil and a scattering of aromatic oregano. With the exception of the feta, these were all foods I had eaten before, but they had never tasted this way before.
Thinking of that salad conjures up the image of the little taverna where I sat with my family on the harbour side in Chania, Crete. The memory of the food is inextricably linked to the other sensory memories of heat, bright colours bleaching in the sun, skinny café cats brushing past my legs, the smell of sea and herbs and general happiness.
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