Page 16 of Suzie's Santorini Summer

‘Then let’s go!’

Katerina hooked the gold chain of her handbag over her shoulder, scooped her freshly curled hair away from her face with her designer sunglasses and secured them on the top of her head, and they headed out of the door. When they emerged from the shady side street whereKaterina’s Art Studiowas located, Suzie was shocked at how congested the road was – it was more like rush-hour in Central London than a small town in the north of Santorini. Cars, scooters, buses, Jeeps, even bicycles, were all heading in the same direction, all jostling for supremacy, all making full use of their horns.

Thankfully, before she expired from carbon monoxide poisoning, Katerina indicated a turning to their right and moments later they had left the chaos behind, strolling along a wide dusty footpath bordered by fields of olive trees, their journey serenaded by the rhythmic sound of the cicadas. It wasn’t long before they arrived at a picturesque taverna, its entrance partially concealed behind a magnificent ruffle of pink bougainvillea.

If Suzie had been asked what she thought an authentic Greek taverna looked like, thenTaverna Giorgoswould be it. With its wide wraparound veranda housing a collection of mismatched tables and chairs, sheltered from the now-descending sun by a wooden pergola entwined with foliage and fairy lights, the place was a travel photographer’s dream, although they wouldn’t be able to capture the delicious, yet unusual, aroma that was emanating from inside the kitchen.

Situated slightly off the beaten track, and therefore not blessed with a view of the west-facing caldera, the taverna’s patrons were clearly there to escape what Katerina had described as the “rugby scrum” that took place every night on the other side of Oia. The low hum of contented conversation melded with the soft tinkle of bouzouki music, adding an almost serene touch to the tableau, and Suzie started to relax until she realised that every table was occupied, and her anxiety threatened to make an unwelcome appearance.

‘Erm, I think we might be out of luck, maybe we should—’

‘Oh, don’t worry, Giorgos will have saved my usual spot.’

To her immense relief, Katerina pointed to a table at the far side of the veranda, tucked away behind a pair of enormous Greek urns painted in the taverna’s colour scheme of blue and white stripes, and they headed across the room, pausing occasionally for Katerina to accept cheek kisses from friends and to introduce them to Suzie.

No sooner had they taken their seat than a tall, distinguished-looking man, probably in his mid- to late-fifties, with a mane of thick salt-and-pepper hair, an impressive moustache, and a wide jovial smile approached their table, proffering a couple of leather-bound menus. He wore a long-sleeved white shirt cracked open at the collar to reveal a glimpse of chest hair, a pair of beautifully pressed black trousers, and a waistcoat sporting the taverna’s blue and white striped design, its lapel displaying a gold name badge that ensured everyone knew that he was the owner of this little slice of paradise.

‘Kalispera, Katerina.’

Giorgos’ soft brown eyes crinkled at the corners as he greeted Katerina warmly, then followed up with a volley of high-speed Greek that Suzie had no chance of understanding – apart from the mention of Amber’s name and her own – before he turned towards Suzie and offered her his palm.

‘Welcome toTaverna Giorgos, Suzie,’ said Giorgos in a deep, gravelly voice with only the slightest hint of an accent. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you. I trust Amber has arrived safely in Thailand?’

‘Yes, I spoke to her this morning and she’s having the time of her life.’

‘I’m pleased to hear it. Okay, I’ll leave you to study the menu. Sit back, relax, and enjoy some of the finest food, and the most exquisite wines, that you’ll taste while you’re on Santorini.Kalí órexi!’

‘Efharistó, Giorgos.’

‘Parakaló.’

Suzie paused before opening the menu. Since moving to Blossomwood Bay, food had been low on her list of priorities and she had tended to eat simple meals that required minimal preparation and cooking time; living in a tepee wasn’t conducive to experimenting with complicated recipes, or hosting elaborate dinner parties, either. Also, she rarely drank alcohol, except on those occasions – before the boardwalk fire – when Chloe had needed her to taste-test one of her experimental gins.

She glanced around the veranda at her fellow diners, hoping to find inspiration by sneaking a peek at what they were eating. To her right was a couple enjoying a romantic candlelit dinnerà deux, their Greek salads, topped with chunks of creamy white feta, ignored in favour of staring into each other’s eyes. To her left was a multi-generational family of grandparents, parents, and two well-behaved toddlers sharing three huge pizzas sporting a variety of toppings, and next to them were several groups of holidaymakers chatting animatedly in various languages whilst indulging in a slice of moussaka or spanakopita. There was even a solo diner with a shock of sandy-blonde hair, enjoying a post-dinner Metaxa brandy and a selection of honey-soaked pastries while he scribbled in his journal.

‘What do you fancy?’ asked Katerina, placing her phone on the table next to her.

‘I’m not sure,’ said Suzie, flicking through the pages of the menu. ‘What do you recommend?’

‘Why don’t we leave it up to Stefanos?’

‘Who’s Stefanos?’

‘The chef!’ Katerina laughed, her cheeks colouring slightly.

Suzie smiled as Katerina placed their order with Giorgos. Now she knew why Katerina made so many forays to the taverna! Having consumed nothing but coffee – lots and lots of coffee –she couldn’t wait to enjoy one of Stefanos’ traditional Greek salads with a drizzle of the local extra-virgin olive oil, followed by a generous portion of the moussaka that had vanished from the plates of the Dutch diners at the table to her left, before rounding her meal off with a slice of Amber’s favourite dessert – honey-soaked baklava.

However, when their first course arrived, she was surprised to discover that whilst she had been served with a salad topped with a generous slab of crumbly, creamy feta, the dressing was not what she had expected. It had a vibrant, spicy taste of tahini and turmeric with an added touch of honey and a squeeze of lemon juice that made her tastebuds zing.

‘Mmm, this salad is delicious.’

Katerina grinned. ‘Wait until you taste your main course.’

A few minutes later Suzie was savouring the most flavoursome moussaka she’d ever tasted. Like her salad, the dish was a twist on the traditional recipe with the aubergines layered between a rich creamy sauce and topped with a sprinkling of cheese before being baked in the oven. It was a symphony on her tongue and she tucked in, relishing the perfect combination of coconut, lemongrass, and fresh coriander, the flavours deepening with every mouthful until she had consumed every last morsel.

‘Enjoy that?’

‘It was fabulous, but… well, it wasn’t what I was expecting.’

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