My years at Uni were good old times, long gone but never forgotten.
Studying translation I was fortunate enough to be part of a very multicultural group. There were a lot of social gatherings, most of them spontaneous, and a few meticulously planned by our study group secretary. Close to Christmas holiday one year, we were assigned a very special task, cook something from our home country. And out came her suggestion for us Greeks: why don’t you make dolmadakia? it’s great finger food! You should have seen our faces. Pale as sheets, unable to utter a word. Make dolmadakia? There was no pot big enough on the entire campus… Vine leaves! Where on earth are we going to find those? Is she mad? Does she know how long they take to prepare? Doesn’t she realise students survive by grazing off raw salads or eating burgers? You need grandma love for dolmadakia , it’s a special ingredient. The thoughts burst like bubbles above our puzzled faces. Well, we eventually found the courage to say no. We prepared Greek salad and spinach pie instead. Continue readingby