As the ship pulled away from the pier at Sifnos, the blue water sped past through the window,  it was with a pang that I left the island. In the two weeks I had walked its mountains, eaten its bounty, and met its most loving people, Sifnos had begun to feel more like home than a place I was visiting. 

We land off the boat in Kamares. Kamares is a small port town with white houses and a beautiful small church hiding right in between the grocery stores and memento shops. It is a fairly commercial town with many restaurants and shops lining its main road. Don’t go imagining anything as crowded as Santorini. Everything is smaller in scale in Sifnos. 

We stayed on a hill slope overlooking the town. It was too close to the pier and we were encouraged to walk to it but as we pulled the suitcases with a hungry five year old the slope seemed much higher than it was. The house, quite nice in itself, did not have a picturesque view (by Greek island standards) but had a grocery shop nearby which helped since we needed to buy drinking water often (the water in Sifnos isn’t potable).  

The next morning we drove through the winding roads laden with wild fragrant bushes and poppies to visit Apollonia, the central town that connects all of Sifnos. Roads branch off from Apollonia like spider’s legs.  Appolonia is slightly higher in altitude and the nearest place to reach the sea from it is at Poulati, a ten-minute drive and another fifteen-minute walk along rough unpaved roads. All the other towns and their beaches take longer to reach which means another half hour. Sifnos is a small island. 

Appolonia buzzes with friendliness and charm. It has plenty of bakeries that always smell of sweet bread and have the longest array of cakes and mouthwatering pastries to choose from. All of them serve warm or cold Spanakopita, the quintessential spinach and feta pie that is eaten from a paper bag at all times of the day.  Cookies in all shapes and forms and Sifnos’ famous chewy Pasteli made with toasted sesame seeds and honey, line the glass cases making it very hard to walk away from a bakery without buying something and gorging on it.

Restaurants, clothes shops, a medical dispensary, and several fuel stations are in Appolonia.  You invariably head to it when you are in Sifnos. Many hikes run along its stairways and beautiful houses lead you onto the higher mountains and hilltops where goats graze on green grass and wild sage in quiet serenity.

The food in Sifnos is touted as one of the best in the world. I heartily agree. Kamares serves Greek and continental food with smoothies, salads, and sandwiches on its menu but Appolonia gets you gourmet food at the drop of a hat.  We began by luck at Koyzinaki a small restaurant singlehandedly run by the amazing Nikki. Nikki takes orders, cooks, serves(when we visited more often than not, she did not have help and was serving herself), and cleans the table.  

The restaurant overlooked a threeway road and a valley with a white church spire. A chalkboard with handwritten recipes, in Greek, was the menu for the day. Googlelens translated an okay version in English within seconds and we set out to eat Chickpea soup and some Sifnos reared goat cooked slow in wine. 

Revitada is chickpeas floating in a thickish and mellow broth. Expecting the most generic taste, I took one mouthful.  Everything disintegrated softly without the least resistance. The chickpeas had been cooked overnight in an oven with onions, salt, pepper, and olive oil and they had turned so tender but still held integrity so as to not turn into mush. The broth is silky with olive oil, and a bit sweet from the onions. 

There is a lot of discussion on how you cannot add anything more to Revitada because it would ruin it. I completely agree. No garlic or tomatoes, please. Anything more would mar its most simple yet delicious mouthfeel and flavor. Sifnians hold Revitada very close to their heart and apparently even collect rainwater to cook it in. (I tried recreating the soup at home in Bangalore but my oven is sadly electric and not made of wood fire and I could cook it only for a mere four hours in comparison to the eight to twelve hours that Sifnians do. So it lacked the Sifnian flavor). Even in Sifnos it is handed over to a bakery to be cooked overnight in the oven and fetched later on Sunday after church. Nikki cooks in her own oven at the restaurant.

Revitada is part of the Sunday meal after church and is served with slices of lemon and crunchy bread. It is accompanied by Revithiya, a chickpea fritter somewhat like Falafel, and of course a dessert, maybe a Melopita. Melopita is a Greek cheesecake made with ricotta, honey, and eggs. It is crustless and often smells of lemon zest or cinnamon, and is heavenly. Apparently, the Greeks invented cheesecake. Cheesecake was served to Marathon runners once they finished running a race. Isn’t it a beautiful origin story!

Nikki’s Mastelo or goat in wine sauce fell off its bones and the wine sauce that clings to the meat is luscious, thick, and beautifully savory. Nikki went back and forth between the eight tables, brought us delicious food and generally never let it show that she was fending on her own. 

Of the many days we went by to eat at Nikki’s, there was one that stood out. A young mom came by with her month old baby and whole families, grandfathers and grandmothers, uncles and aunts, children and parents came by. Sifnians were sharing a Sunday meal out of home.

A man at our next table ate his meal and then began to bus the tables for Nikki because she was working on her own. He served food, cleared plates, cleaned the tables, and explained to anyone who came how Nikki was doing things by herself and that food might take some time. 

Soon, people cleared their own plates and glasses and took them to the kitchen to be washed. It was remarkable to see how much love and tenderness Sifnians have towards one another. They are moreover tender to everyone who comes by. Their warmth is given freely.

Before leaving, we spoke with the man and when we let him know how impressed we were at what he had spearheaded, he smiled it off but mentioned that they were simply giving a helping hand. He also added that Nikki was a tough woman and he knows that she is more than capable of managing such situations. If you are in Sifnos don’t miss visiting Koyzinaki.  Eat and say hello to the incredible, Nikki. 

It was Easter and when we got back to our rented home there were cookies and some painted red eggs in a bowl left by our host on our table. There were celebrations over the night at some of the churches. The next morning we visited the beautiful church among the shops at Kamares and saw the biggest plaited bread of all time. It was as big as my five year old and studded with sesame seeds. Tsoureki is traditionally made for Easter and is a ceremonial bread. Just looking at it made me hungry. The winds in Sifnos were becoming more raucous and cold and they made my hunger sharp. 

We hiked and saw some plants and bushes (which were marked with a name tag by a team of botanists) on the stairs and pathway that led to the Mycenaean citadel. A  relatively easy walk to do even with a five year old on your back, it took us several hours since Arjun walked parts of it on his own. 

En route is a small quiet chapel for Saint Anargyri Ptochiani with a stunning overlook of valleys. We lit a few candles that are always stacked in neat piles, burnt some incense blocks, and put in a small contribution into the bronze gilded crevasse on a nearby collection box. The quiet and the shade of the chapel after the grueling heat outside felt wonderful. As we climbed on, the shale rocks winked at us with copious amounts of silica in the sun. This year was one of the hottest in Greece in recent times. We plucked the wild sage on our sides, breathed in its strengthening aroma, and trudged on. 

Vathi 

The serpentine roads led us to Vathi, a small beach town. On the way we see pickup trucks with a dog or two at the back, absolutely loving the wind and the ride. They are very clever and manage to stay within the trucks even though they aren’t leashed. We come up with a joke that you cannot have a pickup in Sifnos you don’t possess a tailed companion. We see more dogs jaunting sportily behind their masters in the coming days.

The water is very blue in Vathi and the sand is warm and several people are playing in the shallow sea with their children. It’s easy enough to walk in and out for a toddler and the waves are so gentle. 

A restaurant has chosen to advertise by hanging a dead octopus out to dry on a stand and of course, we choose to go there. Arjun admires its suckers and long tentacles and we proceed to eat a lovely meal of boiled and quick pickled octopus in vinegar, fried squid rings, and Horiatiki, the unbeatable Greek salad with feta. The gentle waves are almost lapping at our chairs, they are so close. We let a nice family keep their bags and reserve our table for their late lunch. They smile and beam at us. We beam back in full force.

Soon we decided to move to Mirsini which is en route to Vathi from Appolonia and we are welcomed by a terraced valley with olive trees. A few miles below, the ocean gleams with sailboats at the town of Platos Gialos. We are immediately adopted by two resident cats who wail pitiably for food(we began feeding them milk from a handmade terracotta ashtray) and we name them Bongo and Congo. 

Mirsini is luxurious with plenty of vessels and we crank up great meals for dinner. Cheese stuffed sausages, baked feta with bell peppers. I paint a little whenever I get time.

Mirisini is run by John’s daughter whose name I sadly did not get, but since she was traveling it was John himself who took care of us. Arjun is goaded with cookies or Melopita on most days. The most unforgettable gesture of all was an incredible home cooked Revitada, Revithiya, bread and olives from his own farm as a gift from the family on a Sunday afternoon. Of course there was melopita for later too.

The olives had the loveliest aroma, almost like roses . The Revithiya was cooked in the traditional red, hand made earthernware of Sifnos (Sifnos is famous for its handmade pottery and has specific kinds of vessels that dishes are cooked in) and the portions were so generous it lasted us for three meals and we enjoyed every bit of it. The olives in a small bottle I carried with me to Athens and kept eating from it. I can only think of John and his family and Mirsini with my heart stretching big. They were so kind and their hospitality bordering on familial. John worked for the electricity board and we kept seeing his grey truck everywhere. Silver haired and jovial he always had a big smile for Arjun who he called ‘good man’. Mirsini is named after a lovely golden haired Labrador who loves people just as much as his owner.

Pottery

I am very keen that we visit at least one of the ceramic and pottery studios in Sifnos and somehow we always ended up not being able to. Our hikes took longer than usual and we just wanted to grab a lunch or it is too windy and not pleasant to step out( there were about three days when we really had to stick to our rental because the winds were so strong).

The last day before we left I managed to go to the Mpairamis studio at Heronissos. Giorgios was at work and Arjun watched his hands create very thin pottery, with great fascination. He stood for almost five minutes drinking it in. It was clear from what I could see that Giorgios was a master at what he did. I have not yet seen such thin and beautifully crafted pottery anywhere. I bought Satya a pale green and brown espresso cup and saucer. He still drinks from it everyday.

Of love, hate and Cheeses

There is much talk about the locally made cheeses in Sifnos. I tried both Myzithra, the fresh, soft and milkier cheese that is eaten with salads and also the more robust Manoura that knocks people out with its characteristic taste.

Determined to eat Manoura, I kept looking for it in restaurent menus but never found it anywhere we went. So while looking in at a grocery store in Applonia and chancing upon the hunks of mauve pink and brown skinned mounds, I bought some. Wrapped in plastic wrap they felt hard to the touch. There was no give to the cheese. The lady behind the counter very kindly gave me an introduction to the cheese and informed me that it is made of local goat milk, aged on the dregs in wine barrels and that it is loved as an accompaniment with fruits and wine, of course. Its a cheese that you snack on. Every Sifnian brightens when you mention Manoura.

I open it with much excitement back in Mirsini and the pungent smell that hits me and fills the whole kitchen is very unique. I cut a small slice and sample it. Very smelly and hard, my Manoura from the orange looks of it seems to be quite aged. It tastes like very salty chalk which has gone very moldy. I give slivers to Arjun who spits it out and Satya braves through his but wants no more to do with it. He encourages me to get rid of the cheese(reminding me of the cheese adventures in Three men on a Boat), saying that John might find the smell a bit too much in his kitchen. I have spent close to eighteen euros on the wedge that I have procured and my heart cannot stand to throw it away. I have been told not to refrigerate it, so I keep it wrapped in paper in a cup board and wonder what to do with it.

I look for guidance online and TheSifnoschronicle doles out the best of it. I read about how the cheese is made and how it isn’t for everyone. I also find out that when heated and eaten with bread, Manoura can be good. And so I heat it till it melts and sizzles and then try it on a peice of bread. It spreads thick and luscious and the edges are golden and caramelized. I take a bite and I am in love. I eat more and more and more. Satya and Arjun are still not sold on the idea.

Satya pronounces it palatable when hot but still shows no passion for it. Arjun simply has a derisive song (Manouuuurrraaaaa…Manouuuurrraaa…No..noo..no)that he sings loudly and runs out of the room with his nose pinched in between his fingers. Let me come clean. When heated the aroma becomes even more thick. But I am in heaven. Albeit a smelly heaven. Every day I look forward to coming back in the evening to sit with Manoura which I eat with grapes or some bread and I cant get enough of it. Soon when the days are hot, the Manoura gives out its own oils and I begin to love it even without heating it. I take to eating it surreptitiously, outside on the patio with Bongo and Congo as if I am committing a crime.

I consider my palate pan world and I can usually enjoy everything the world has to offer, be it pungent or plain weird. Sometimes I take some time. I needed time with Kimchi and grapefruit( What is with the bitterness? but yes I love it now with some salt) but Miso, Wasabi and aged fish sauce make me very happy. So, I was a bit embarrassed that I didn’t take to Manoura. Also I really feel very sad to waste food and this was made with so much love and work and I wanted to be able to honor it. Thankfully the weather and some good advice helped me do exactly that.

A few days later Satya stumbles again onto Thesifnoschronicle and he tells me how well written and informative the blog is. I inform him that I was reading already from it too. It so happens that the writer and photographer behind the blog are in Sifnos just then! Satya reaches out and we meet for tea in Appolonia. Sharon and Jim are retired school teachers from Canada and they travel widely and deeply. Jim photographs with his SLR and develops the photographs himself and Sharon writes travelouges that have so much cultural and social nuance that only someone very keen and full of love for a place will be able to do so. They have been visiting Sifnos for several years and they know the residents and the nooks and corners and everyone knows them too.

We spend a beautiful afternoon chatting over sage tea (Jim buys Arjun a popsicle from behind the restaurant) and talk about Sifnos, our lives back home and how it is possible to honor a place and its wonderful people through writing and Art. I also tell her about my adventures with the small hunk of Manoura and we laugh heartily. We part as if we have been friends for long and it does feel that way with Sharon and Jim since they are so full of warmth and it is so easy to talk to them.

Sharon has been writing about Sifnos and its people and has already published two books so far. The first book which we bought and Sharon signed for us(after a few days when me met again before boarding our ship back to Athens) is full of hilarious tales that have happened to her and Jim in Sifnos. I read about a small restaurant owner who loves watching the television way more than cooking but when he does deliver you the plates of food it is other worldy. He also always opens the home made wine(on the house) when he sees Sharon and Jim entering his place.

I read about their stay on a hill top and how almost every day the owner of the house comes knocking to deliver some culinary gift or the other, be it a humongous raw fish that he caught himself or some fruits. There is a raucous story of how some friends of Sharon are given the wrong Revitada vessel from the bakery but they proceed to eat it anyway since everyone is hungry. They explain that theirs is way better but this isn’t bad too. It is a must read for anyone who loves Sifnos and Greece.

Jim has exhibited his black and white photographs in galleries in Ontario and Sifnos and has also published in several books(You will most probably find his photographs when you pick up a magazine or book in cafes in Sifnos). You can also enjoy his often abstract and impeccably executed photographs here.

One of the afternoons the quiet is marred by several cars honking and a platoon of black taxis pass us. At the end is a hearse van. A taxi driver has left this plane for adventures on winding roads in other dimensions and his friends are honoring his last journey with much love and honking. I often think of Sifnos when I need to unwind or remind myself of the inherent goodness in people. I hope I get to be there soon. This is with love, to dear Sifnos.