Imagine yourself on a Greek island – Naxos, let’s say – in a tiny white-washed house with Cerulean blue shutters that overlooks the Aegean Sea.  Below your terrace, orange, yellow and cyan fishing boats bob in the small harbor and every few hours, a ferry bellows in on a plume of funnel smoke.  The great boat bellies up to port and expels small cars and trucks and people by the score, scurrying like ants toward the village fortifications, before raising anchor and ponderously exiting westward.  It’s late May and the sun on your tiled veranda is warm and brilliant. In the kitchen, beads of condensation sparkle on the carafe of pink wine that awaits you.  It’s time to eat.  This is what you are going to prepare. Read More