The Sandpoint Eater: Mamma mia!

By Marcia Pilgeram
Reader Columnist

Mamma mia! Here I go again.

This coming October, I’m heading out on another adventure with a favorite group of intrepid peers — older, wiser and fun-seeking women. This time, we’re off to the idyllic destination of Greece. 

Most of these ladies have traveled with me before, and we’re a like-minded lot. Of course, we’re going for the ancient ruins, the diverse cultures and the incomparable blues of the Mediterranean Sea. But at the top of our list (or at least mine) are the food experiences. No surprise there, right?

We aren’t looking for Michelin-starred plates topped with seafoam or garnishes that require long-handled tweezers for placement. What we want instead is authenticity and stories. We’ll search out tavernas that still use recipes passed down for generations — or even centuries — and silver-haired waiters who have been clearing the same wooden tables for decades and are more than happy to share house recommendations and their stories. It’s like dining in a living archive — like biting into history.

Greek food, especially, is a perfect example of cultural evolution. Staples like olive oil, yogurt, lemons, olives and bread have been around for thousands of years. And judging from their longevity, I’d say the Greeks were on to something long before we Americans became obsessed with the Mediterranean diet.

Older restaurants understand this instinctively. They don’t reinvent themselves every season with a clever new menu. In fact, the only menu might be affixed to a whitewashed stucco wall, scribed by the current owner — likely the grandson of the woman who first fired up the weathered grill decades ago. The tables are worn smooth by generations of elbows. 

The recipes may be adjusted slightly over time, but the soul of the plate will always belong to Yιαγιά.

Traveling with like-minded women sharpens these experiences for me. We have our own well-seasoned stories and recognize endurance when we see it. We know that what lasts is rarely flashy. Like a lifelong friendship, a great dish is built slowly, patiently and with forgiveness for imperfections. We come to revel, not review.

There’s something deeply comforting about eating food that has outlived us; sitting at a table where thousands have sat before we were born, ordering something that has been prepared for a hundred years — or more. In a world obsessed with the new, there’s something profoundly satisfying in choosing the old.

This trip isn’t about ticking boxes or checking off sights. It’s about slowing down enough to notice how recipes mirror lives — how they adapt, endure and deepen over time. The best ones don’t belong to a single person but to a place, a family, a culture, evolving authentically and ever so slightly.

Maybe that’s why food matters so much when we travel. Long after souvenirs are shared and photos fade, we remember how something tasted, how it made us feel, who we were sitting with, laughing with when we ate the food, shared the wine and recounted the day’s highlights.

In Greece this fall — at Psaras Tavern in Athens, and Xeri Elia in Hydra (a favorite of past Hydra resident Leonard Cohen) — we’ll be listening to stories and clattering plates heaped with family-style dishes shared by patrons for generations. Every single bite will be savored.

When you sit down in an old taverna in Greece, you may find — just as in Spain or Italy — that they often don’t bother with menus in English. These are places where recipes evolve not because of trends, but because of history, hardships and survival. A dish may look simple on the plate, but it carries the weight of the ingredients — and the history — that came before it.

And finally, the desserts! Often they arrive as a gift: a small slice, a spoonful or a tiny glass of something special from the kitchen. It’s not about indulgence, it’s about hospitality: sweetness offered after the meal, simply because you’re there, and you’re kind and gracious.

We’ve earned our sweetness, and sweetness is always worth sharing — especially this Greek-inspired dessert. It’s the perfect grand complement to any meal. You might even consider making and sharing it for Valentine’s Day. Opa!

Crispy Lemon Custard Cake

This cake is not only delicious, it’s beautiful and perfect as a celebration dessert. Omit the glaze and drizzle lightly with honey, or dust lightly with powdered sugar and a sprinkle of almond slices. Yields 8-12 slices.

INGREDIENTS:

• 1 16-oz box of phyllo dough sheets

• ½ cup melted butter

• 3 eggs at room temperature

• ½ cup whole Greek yogurt

• ⅓ cup sugar

• ¼ cup fresh squeezed lemon juice

• 2 tsp lemon zest

• 1 tsp almond extract

• ½ tsp salt

For the optional glaze:

• ¾ cup powdered sugar

• 1 tbs lemon juice

DIRECTIONS:

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.

Unroll the phyllo dough and lay it on a damp kitchen towel to make it easier to keep soft and prevent tearing. 

Using 1 piece of dough at a time, fold it accordion-style and place it in a circular pattern around the perimeter of a 9” springform cake pan, pressing firmly but gently against the side of the pan, as you work toward the center in smaller circles, using a gentle touch when working them into the pan. You will use all or most of the phyllo dough. The final roll will be quite small and rose shaped.

Brush (or drizzle with a spouted cup) the melted butter over the tops and into the folds of dough. Avoid buttering the outer edges of dough against the pan.

Place in the oven and bake for 10-15 minutes, until golden brown.

While the dough is baking, begin the custard by whisking the eggs in a large bowl. Add the yogurt and sugar and continue to whisk until smooth.

Add the juice and zest of the lemon to the egg mixture. Add the almond extract and salt and whisk.

Once the dough has baked, remove from oven and pour the custard in an even layer over all the cake. Tap very gently to settle the custard into the crevices. Return to the oven and bake for 20-25 minutes, until it’s golden brown and set. Cover with foil if the top is getting too brown. 

Remove and allow to cool.

To make the glaze, whisk the powdered sugar with the lemon juice until smooth. Drizzle over the top of the cake and serve. 

Cut with a serrated knife using a sawing motion. Cake is best eaten the same day while the phyllo is crisp. Refrigerate leftover cake.