Food, Glorious Food!

Foreigners who come to Cyprus have always talked of Cypriot hospitality. Cypriots love to welcome people and make them feel at home. There is a warmth in their gestures, an earnestness in their chatter. They want you to get the best view of their island and come again. Food is a Cypriot way of welcome. What better way to please, than to fill up the stomach. My godfather, an astute businessman often uses food to sweeten up his associates and it usually works!

One of the best known Cypriot food moments is cooking the souvla (big pieces of meat on skewers) and it is often done on a special occasion with plenty of company. At my grandmother's house the guests begin to arrive one by one. My grandfather, father and uncle gather around the fokou (barbecue). The men take pride in making a good souvla. There will be disagreements on whether the souvla is too raw or too well done or whether the coals need to burn more. Conversation mingles with the zivania which is drunk profusely. My uncle starts a story about a "kalamara" (Greek mainlander) conman who came to his garage and tried to sell him stolen Sony Ericsson phones. Then it's about football and politics. Both are given a bleak picrure." They will never get into the Champions League," declares my uncle. " Those left wingers have sent the country to the dogs!" chants my grandfather.

The table is laid with olives, fetta cheese and pickles. Halloumi, spiced sausages and pitta bread are cooked on the fokou. The smell wafts through the neighbourhood. My grandmother hobbles around trying to get everything on the table. My aunt mixes the salads and nibbles at a bit of fetta.But the food doesn't end there. There is makaronia tou fournou (pasta) and koupepia (stuffed vine leaves) too, with tzantziki and houmous for extra dips.You eat because if you don't, your host will be offended.
There is never silence on the Cypriot table.Different topics come up and it's usually centered around food. How the new butcher sells his meat, what's fresh at the local market and recipes. Then someone, usually me, randomly says "There's going to be a storm tomorrow" and everyone knows there isn't but that opens a whole new topic on drought and if it will rain enough this year. My aunt starts a conversation on whether Chrysoulla has finished her five storey mansion with the swimming pool. That she's in debt because she has built above her means. If little Nikolas has been christened and what his godmother wore. I feed the cat under the table as I listen to this idle chatter. The voices are familiar. I feel a contentment of having my family all round one big table.

Sweat beads start to appear on foreheads and regrets on eating too much. Bellies popping out of trousers and toothpicks at the ready, it's time for dessert. My grandmother is a connoisseur on desserts. There is baklava and jelly with the creamy lemon base, chocolate cake from Patisseri Panayiotis and fruit. There's always fruit. You eat eventhough your stomach is going to explode because it's food.
The chatter slowly dies down and guests start to leave. The party is over but everyone has been fed. The job has been done. I help pick up the empty plates with the chocolate crumbs and half-eaten apple. Food once again has managed to bring a family together for a night. It's amazing what food can do.