Flavors of Heraklion

The night breeze brushes across concrete facades and low-hanging tree leaves, a blend of Heraklion’s many scents: stale motorcycle gas, fire-roasted chestnuts, cigarette smoke, and a splash of sea salt. I pass scenes of shadow puppetry on the gravel sidewalk, depicting dancers with arms interlocked and couples gazing out over apartment terraces. Embedded in the jungle of city structures lies an oasis: a restaurant lit by strings of golden bulbs and warmed by the energetic hum of overlapping conversation.

I step inside.

Waiters and waitresses slide tables together in their white aprons, accommodating large families, friends, and neighbors. I walk by as vibrant words spill from the mouths of an abstract array of characters, all intermingling and sharing their personal experiences with each other. Colorful stories flow in running streams down the folds of tablemats, alighting in the minds of each relation. Reels of images roll behind wide eyes as fantastical sentences are strung together by the voices of taletellers.

The tight-knit communal atmosphere of storytelling and deep relationships is brought out by the food. A tapestry of flavors, smells, and hues lies spread-out on countless silver platters, passed around in constant motion from hands of all shades and textures. The variety of individuals and their words matches the diversity of dishes served at the table. At one end, Baba’s golden ring glints under the rosy lamplight as he pours a viscous scoop of thick, creamy risotto onto his powder-blue plate. The lyricism in his speech reflects his taste for seasoning, as he spices up the course with a shake of salt and pepper and a light sprinkle of cinnamon. At another plate, my close friend and younger cousin each dip a grape leaf dolma in the traditional tzatziki sauce, sharing a bite of the crunchy leaf leading to the soft rice roll inside.

After the vibrant parade of appetizers comes the meat. The rate of words rushing down the eloquent tongues of customers reaches its peak. Thias and thios dig their forks into the main dishes, spearing a couple of gardoumakia. This Cretan treat of boiled lamb small intestines wrapped into coils and served with egg-lemon sauce blesses the taste buds with a soft and savory burst of flavor. The sense of stories and connections between people is evident in the way they share food. In Greece, people do not order dishes for themselves, but engage in an exploration of their appetites by taking portions of the numerous courses in the middle.

In an example of Cretan hospitality, a dessert of myzithropites, watermelon, and cake is granted to our table on the house. As the beautifully chaotic energy of the day begins to wind down, our jaws sink into honey-drizzled cheese pies and ecstasy soothes our active minds. The refreshment of summer is embodied in the slices of cold, juicy watermelon that make up the final delicacy of the evening. A meal at Erganos is not just a gustatory experience; it’s an all-encompassing odyssey of the senses, Cretan community, and age-old tradition.