Michalis Michaelides
A colleague’s question at the office came completely by chance just a few hours after I watched a video of Mehmet from Kato Arodes saying, "We didn’t have money, but we had everything.”
Just to avoid any misunderstanding, I am of course not in a position to answer my colleague’s very difficult question. Besides, whatever I say would probably sound old-fashioned in the ears of a 23-year-old, just as, by the same logic, a boomer’s view on the matter often sounds indifferent or outdated in my own ears.
Still, I find the observation by Turkish Cypriot Mehmet Kamil from Pano Arodes very interesting and useful. In a TV interview, speaking about returning to his village after many decades abroad and reopening a café in the old school building, he compared life in his childhood village with life abroad, specifically in Canada, where he lived for many years.
“You smelled things that didn’t smell like they do in Arodes. You ate things that didn’t taste like they do in the village. You went to the sea, and it wasn’t like Lara beach. The village had everything. We didn’t have money, but we had everything. And everything was perfect. When you go abroad and eat a tomato, it’s not the same tomato you eat in the village.”
Mehmet left in 1974 after the invasion and returned to his homeland not only to restore the café in the old Arodes school but mainly to rediscover the smells and flavors he had missed so much.
Personally, I have written before about the pears, peaches, and cucumbers we used to eat as children when we went to the orchard in Polystipos with my grandfather. I have written about the cellar filled with elderflower, sage, almonds, walnuts, bay leaves, dried figs, wine, and raisins. That cellar with the tall blue wooden door, which you would push open and almost magically enter another world, tastier, more fragrant, and more intoxicating.
Years later, with strong memories rooted in the village, I feel I can now appreciate good raw ingredients. I can recognize food that has soul and distinguish it from either indifferent attempts or from dishes where “locality” and “seasonality” are used in a forced, superficial way with no real substance.
Recently, while dining at Rous in Nicosia, many of the dishes listed the origin of their ingredients next to the description: trout from Kakopetria, rabbit from Amiantos, halloumi from Drouseia, sea urchins from Paralimni, along with five excellent wines from the Krasochoria of Limassol and the Zambartas Winery in Agios Amvrosios.
I can say with certainty that the restaurants that stand out, as well as the wineries that stand out, are those that offer soul on the plate and in the glass. That Wednesday night experience was flawless, offering what you might call a different kind of Cypriot “meze”—with dishes like seafood dolma, delicious trout, kouneli Amiantitiko ravioli with orange and brandy sauce, tacos with sheftalia, and pecan tart with Cyprus coffee gelato.
We paired them with Zambartas’ first sparkling wine (from Maratheftiko); the brand-new white and red PDO Krasochoria (2025 and 2023, respectively); the Single Vineyard Not Orange (2024) from Xynisteri and Mavro; and the wonderful 2012 Commandaria Melusine. Five 100% Cypriot wines (made entirely from local grape varieties), proving that local products can have soul, quality, and real value for the consumer.
But we shouldn’t limit ourselves only to Cypriot products or a strictly traditional approach. As an example, earlier that same day, passing by a small vegan restaurant in Makedonitissa, I spontaneously decided to stop and try their vegan burger, advertised as one of the most popular items on the menu, alongside falafel, cheesecake, and chickpea curry.
Well, that burger, made with a plant-based patty inside a brioche bun baked in-house, was one of the most delicious, juicy, and soft things I have eaten in years. Having worked in a Michelin vegan restaurant in Denmark and in the kitchens of the Four Seasons in Limassol, Christos, one of the chefs and owners of Garden Gourmet, knows that when it comes to food, beyond knowledge and technique, the most important factor is always the quality of the raw ingredients.
As I mentioned earlier, I don’t know the answer to the eternal question of whether money brings happiness. But I do know that a good meal always stays in our memory as a small moment of joy — a small piece of happiness.
Last Wednesday, I had happiness in generous portions through the food I enjoyed, and honestly, I wouldn’t trade that for anything.
