On the beach, in Kphth

On Platanes Beach the august winds of August take the edge off the pulsating heat (of six beach-days, half were red flags), but the only real way to cool off is to retire up the sandy wooden boardwalk up to the family taverna.

Half a litre of Hellenic lager (served in a frozen glass), a Greek salad and fried aubergines, just the ticket in the 30 degree weather (perhaps even grilled octopus if the moment seems right).

Yiannis serves his homemade fare with swirls of Cretan accent atop typically fluent Greek English. His smiles never wavers though in recent years his pancreas has.

“No alcohol for me!” he exclaims describing his doctors orders. “Except raki of course. Raki in the evening, every night”, as he cheekily adds his own version of the doctors orders.

With a wink and a smile plates are cleared and a carafe of his homemade wine appears, “my gift to you”. Delicious, drinkable, simple, no frills. (The olive oil on Yiannis’ table was also his own, from his homestead 12 kilometres along the island).

The moment is to savour. The holiday is just the ticket. Crete (Kphth) is a beautiful, windswept island of 31 million olive trees. The beer served it’s purpose to cool off on the beach, the homemade wine slowed the moments that made the holiday.

Efharisto Yiannis, my next rakomelo is for you.