Channeling Argolis.

Now that it has been a year since I boarded a plane for Zurich with a pencil and Sodoku book in hand, I have to admit that I am feeling a bit nostalgic.

Nostalgia for the trains, nostalgia for the culture, nostalgia for the food.

I think it is hard this time of year, especially. It is still winter here and it is gray. The thermostat has climbed above the freezing mark, which is in some ways depressing; I welcome the excitement of a snow day to mix it up a bit, to throw in some variety during a winter of dark and drizzle.

Lately, I have been thinking of Greece.

When we were in the Peloponnese, some of my favorite food memories were of the yogurt and the marmalade. I never thought that I was much of a marmalade person before. I never understood the allure of a jam that included pieces of peel and all the bitter parts…This was before I traveled to the Argolis region, where the fields were filled with groves and groves of oranges. We stayed in a Pension where breakfast consisted of the Greek style, thick and so-creamy yogurt and this so-good-marmalade. Grandma’s recipe, of course.

I remember how the thought of eating breakfast made me smile every morning, and every morning, I would exclaim to my husband across the table…damn, that marmalade is good.

Yesterday, I opened my fridge and noticed a sad looking neglected pile of citrus. We can’t quite keep up with our produce delivery at times, so I decided that I had to make a move quickly, before the mold took over.

In the grayness of the day and of my mood, I needed a little sunshine. I needed a little Greece, a little something to make me smile. So, I made some marmalade, and then I got out the Greek yogurt, mixed it up, and I took a bite.

I closed my eyes.

Even if just for a moment, I was back there, beneath the orange groves again....