March 24, 2017 / 18:53
GARDEN OF EARTHLY DELIGHTS: ASMA YAPRAGI
Down a village alley, pumpkins stacked in a barrow. With bowed heads the wayfarers pass through the gate. They raise their faces to the shelter of a fig tree swelling with fruit which filters the last hot light of a dying day.
10 May 2013 Friday 06:01
The crunch of white gravel underfoot, the skitter of stones. A cat watches, superior, slanty-eyed from its vantage up on the surrounding stone walls. Blue chairs, baby tubs bursting with pink flowers. Candles being lit. They are greeted by a woman in black, her face as warm as the late day sun. Platters crowd the long table. Gleaming white counters. Pots hanging from hooks. A village woman works the stove. Another stands just back waiting to plate the wayfarers food. The days menu is displayed, artichokes with lentils, nettle salad, marinated beets, minced meat in vine leaves, stuffed courgette flowers
everything crisp, and vibrant as if the Aegean soil has just been brushed away. A young man, the son of the beaming woman, uncorks a Sultaniye, places it a vintage cooking pot crackling with ice. Back at the table the wayfarers clinking glasses catch the days final, glinting light. More guests duck under the gateway. A perfect evening has just begun.
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