Kea is the first of the Greek Cycladic Islands. It also happens to be where by happy coincidence I spent my first ever night in Greece. It is where I fell in love with the culture, the climate, and my husband. 

A quick ferry trip from the port of Lavrio, Kea quietly evades the splash of tourists that frequent name-brand islands. It may lack the sparkle of other islands, but she is a rare gem: a rugged wind-swept island alternating with rocky cliffs and hidden beaches, possessing a down-to earth grace and generosity reflected in many of the locals who live here year-round.

It would be easy to over-romanticise this patch of scrubby earth surrounded by the Aegean which I now call home for as much of the year as possible... so I should say that Kea must certainly also abide a wide ranging heap of municipal issues, family feuds, and minor dramas, the specificities of which I am blissfully unaware. 

I lovvvvvvve this island. She is covered with rock wall terraces dating back to ancient who-knows-when. She once supported four distinct city-states (woa. remember those from Civics class?) and you can see why. She brims with almond, oak, olive, and fig trees. Capers grow out from the stone walls. Out of the WALLS! Heaps of goats and sheep wander around like they own the joint. You can buy fish from fishermen still on a their boat. It's pretty much my heaven. 

Some day I will live here year round and keep bees and goats and chickens... but until then, I'm happy to know the people who do. And buy their dirt polished fruits and veggies. And tell you all about it here.


A little bit about myself

I love runny eggs, comedy done well, and taking lots and lots of photos. I grew up in Arkansas, got schooled in California, spent my 20s really growing up in NYC, and then moved to Europe to join my Greek husband and marvel at the taste of that whole mediterranean diet hype... which is, unsurprisingly, rather simple, remarkably healthy, and ridiculously yummy, fresh food.

When I'm not planning a science education crusade, I'm in the kitchen mashing up my vegetarian past with my evolving understanding of Greek cooking and whatever recipe I last read on
And then eating it. 

And now a photo of a fig. Because, well, I'm all about figs.

This fig is arguably frowning, yes...  but I suggest that all figs are happy regardless of the shape they take when you smoosh them with your thumb after breaking them in two with your hands. All that sun and sea--how could they not be????