GREEK FOR A DAY
The way I did it.
I took a cooking class.
A Big Fat Greek Cooking Class, to be precise. For months, I had been driving by the advertisement sign posted on the fence at the Casements, the historic winter home of John D. Rockefeller that is now a community museum and venue. This week, without overthinking it, I signed up.
The website said we would make Moussaka, Rice Pilaf, Greek Salad, Stuffed Grape Leaves, Spanakopita, and Baklava. And we did! I felt confident going into class. I had made all the dishes, except the grape leaves, before. I was looking forward to learning from a real chef. And Chef Elaine did not disappoint. She had many tips and tricks and engaging personal stories that made the 3-½ hour class fly by.
This wasn’t my first cooking class. One of my most memorable cooking experiences was the class at La Cucina al Focolare in Italy with a group of friends. We call ourselves the Belle Sorelle, which means beautiful sisters in Italian. Taking an authentic Italian cooking class in the gorgeous countryside of Tuscany is also one of the all-time favorite things I’ve ever done.
First, we made Crostini di Fegatini—chicken liver toasts that we enjoyed immediately with a slice of crusty bread and a glass of Chianti. Then La Pasta per la Pizza—pizza crust topped with an amazing tomato sauce and fresh mozzarella cheese. For the main course, it was Fettuccine con Salsa di Pomodoro e Basilico—fettuccine with tomato and basil sauce, and for dessert Biscotti di Prato—almond biscuits. We cooked in a wood-fired oven and hand rolled the fettucine. I can’t remember whether Italian music was playing in the kitchen or if it was just playing in my head.
The class was amazing … the food was delicious, and it remains one of my fondest memories of our Italian adventure. I also remember that I jumped in to translate, which is a funny way to explain it because I don’t speak much Italian—but our cooking instructors spoke even less English. When I saw my friends’ confused looks, I began to narrate what I was doing. It seemed to help. We then had another glass of wine and enjoyed dinner together, seated on heavy wooden stools around the rustic kitchen table.
I’m telling you that last bit, the bit about taking on the role of instructor, because in my Greek cooking class I had to sit on my hands to keep myself from jumping up to assist. There were over 20 of us in the class. Chef Elaine was in the middle, demonstrating for much of the time. I just knew if I got up there and helped, I could re-engage the students whose attention was drifting … we all had to strain a little bit to see.
Spoiler: I didn’t make it through the whole class without helping. By the time we got to the Greek Salad, the last item on our menu, I got up and chopped the tomatoes. Can I use the excuse that I was starving? I was. I had come to class straight from work. But the truth is, I just couldn’t fight my urge to help any longer.
I think about food a lot. I love to imagine the dinners I will make, the parties I will host, and all the wonderful food I will serve. Taking the Greek cooking class reignited that passion.
The way I did it. Greek for a day.
This is part of what I’m calling Expeditionvision—my quest to find what a meaningful life looks like. One experiment per week: Possible strategies for a happier life. Trying things on purpose and paying attention to what happens. I’m not offering advice or giving instructions. I’m just sharing the way I did it. If there’s something that you’ve been wanting to try—but haven’t—I’d love to hear about it. I’m open to reader suggestions for future experiments.
Field Notes: For Paid Subscribers
Paid subscribers, I’ve added a short field notes section below with what surprised me the most, what I didn’t expect, what I might do next time, plus things I’m still working on.