a lifetime in a tomato

gemista: a recipe of love, tradition, and memory

heaven

My favorite food is gemista, γεμιστά in Greek, meaning stuffed vegetables. I cannot recall the first time I ate it because it feels like it was always there. It brought me up and connected me to everyone around me. If you want the best of it, you would have to go her. My grandma overstuffs the tomatoes like she did herself; to the point of destruction. Puts into them so much rise, reminding me of the way she has been pouring everything she has into us forever now. The way she dedicated her whole life to building us up, to nurturing us with a different dish twice a day.

The first ingredient is vegetables. Tomatoes, eggplants, zucchini, peppers, and potatoes for the side. Of course, this food is best during summer. Gut them all carefully and blend the insides into pulp. A swimming pool for your rise, an amount equal to a couple of tablespoons for each veggie.

One of her secrets is using plenty of olive oil. If you think it’s too much, add more. It helps in letting things slide, as she did so many times, her mantra being “Whoever doesn’t speak up doesn’t lose.” Her other secret is 71 years of experience, 55 years of loving her husband, and 50 years of being a mother. Her hands full, chubby and tired, still a vessel for love and comfort. She can hardly pick them up anymore, but she can still peel potatoes for lunch.

You’ll need oregano, thyme, a tiny bit of spearmint, salt and pepper, thinly chopped onions, garlic, parsley, and dill. Do not forget a pinch of sugar—just enough to bring out the sweetness of memories. Pour them into your swimming rise, stir, and carefully fill up your emptied-out veggies.

I see, now, my whole family around the table anxiously eating while I get the feta from the fridge. My mom’s cheeks and hair red, like the tomato on my plate. My sister, quiet and unassuming but oh so perfect when you handle her right, a true eggplant. My uncle, life did to him what salt does to zucchinis. On the left, my grandpa. Just like the peppers, green, red, yellow, and orange, you never know what color you will get out of him. And then there is me, leftover rice at the bottom of the pan. My grandmother’s fire and devotion bringing us all together.

When there is not enough space for all your rice in the vegetables, throw it around the pan, on top of or next to your potatoes. It will bring out the flavor, and you might just like it the best. Add some water to the pan and drizzle with olive oil and salt. Bake for around 60 minutes or until ready.

This food has accompanied me everywhere. On my childhood home’s balcony, where you can see a slice of the ocean and a sea of cement. You know you are home, my father by my side. Three thousand kilometers from that home, on my birthday, shared with a new family. They loved it. Or on a tiny apartment in the middle of a green sky, overlooking a playground. I find it everywhere, again and again, only to be reminded that coming home is simple. Simplicity is a lifeline, sustaining us, and life sustenance is sacred.

You, Grandma, are the anchor I cling to again and again.

You need feta to truly eat this dish.

Here’s a recipe🍅