Visions of Mediterranean cuisine drew me to the region as a travel destination. As a foodie, I had envisioned Greece as a culinary paradise, where I could savor fresh fruit, vegetables, and seafood.
In 2024, Taste Atlas named Greek cuisine the world’s best, a title that backed my grand hopes. The chance to explore the “freshness” of the food in the Mediterranean at waterfront restaurants only added to my anticipation.
On my first full day in Greece, in Hersonissos, Crete, I woke up at a charming beachfront hotel and slipped into a breezy seaside ensemble: a beige top and a pair of pants. I had one mission: find a seafood restaurant, order fish, and admire the lapping water.
On the waterfront walkway, a twentysomething male host, grinning, asked me to try the restaurant where he worked. He agreed to snap a few photos of me against the backdrop of the Aegean Sea, so I allowed him to guide me to one of his restaurant’s tables.
My seat was so close to an open window overlooking the water that I feared my iPhone might drop into the sea. I expected my seafood dish to blow me away.
Regrettably, my first meal in the Mediterranean was a letdown. I had ordered grilled salmon, carrots, and beetroot (a new vegetable to me).
The entrée usually comes with potatoes, but since I’m allergic, the restaurant kindly left them out. However, they could have added more carrots or another veggie to compensate for my dietary limitations, but alas, my plate appeared sparse.
My first meal in the Mediterranean earned a B-. The salmon suffered from over-salting, and the mashed beetroot lacked flavor, but the carrots tasted sweet.
The good news was that everything I ordered was fresh, except for the salmon, which was a rookie mistake.
Fresh, local ingredients made my trip unforgettable.
At other restaurants across Crete, servers schooled me in the art of ordering fresh food. “Always ask what seafood is fresh on the menu,” one male server in Hersonissos said. He stood before me like a teacher instructing a clueless student.
At a restaurant in Agios Nikolaos, a male server dismissed my initial attempt to place an order. “Salmon may be good for you, but it is not fresh here,” he said before grabbing my menu and choosing my meal (based on my tastes). He tried to convince me to sample the grilled octopus, but I pictured a live one and declined.
Still, the grilled entrée he picked didn’t disappoint. I enjoyed flaky sea bass, tender peppers, and other vegetables while admiring a mountain surrounded by shimmering water.
I don’t remember all the vegetables I ate. Being greedy, I forgot to take pictures of this fabulous meal before it was gone.
Enjoying meals together is the heart of Mediterranean culture.
Maybe it was my imagination, but every server seemed to vanish after bringing food to my table. I gulp down my meals, so I would grow impatient, waiting for servers to reappear with the check or the restaurant’s dessert menu.
One server approached me in shock. “You’re done already? Did you not like the food?”
I glanced around. Families and groups of friends savored their meals. A man had swung his arm over his female partner’s chair, drawing her closer.
He poured himself more wine while laughing at someone’s joke. They were preparing for a long afternoon spent in each other’s company.
I ate alone, but that shouldn’t have stopped me from appreciating my meal and my surroundings longer.
At restaurants back home, servers often ask you if you are finished, especially if you’re dining solo. They hope you will get the hint and leave to make room for another party (and to generate more revenue). This did not happen in Crete.
There, the dining experience revolved around the food. After my meals, a few servers offered me a shot of the traditional Cretan raki, a clear alcoholic beverage from grape pomace, to aid digestion.
Eating fresh food helped me connect with the community.
After leaving the family-run beachfront hotel in Hersonissos, I moved into an Airbnb studio apartment in Chania, Crete. Here, I had more control of my diet (and my budget).
Immersed in a Greek community, I went grocery shopping in the neighborhood.
The first time I entered the small but tidy store, everything came to a halt.
The cashiers, kids, old men, and women — everyone stared. Even shopping for food made me feel like a stranger in a new place.
I ignored the gawking and focused on the produce. I admired the vibrant spread of tomatoes, peppers, potatoes, and mushrooms. Nearby, leafy greens, beets, onions, garlic, and whole carrots added even more color and freshness to the scene.
The fruit selection featured pears, lemons, grapes, and apples, along with juicy cherries and mangoes. Bananas, blueberries, crisp cucumbers, and slices of watermelon rounded out the colorful assortment.
Everything was fresh. The spinach even showed clumps of dirt. The only pre-packaged items were salads in airtight bags.
A middle-aged male worker approached me in the produce section. No, he didn’t speak English. Only one cashier did. Everything was in Greek, which meant I had no idea which green leafy vegetable was which.
I pulled out Google Translate, typed “spinach,” and made progress. The worker pointed to the vegetable.
Despite the language barrier, his warm smile and helpful gesture made me feel a bit more at home. (Later, I figured out that Google Translate can use my camera to interpret labels. This discovery has saved my life.)
This location did not sell non-grocery items, such as trash bags or Ajax cleaners. It had refrigerated displays of dairy products and frozen goods, including ice cream.
In the back, two men packaged raw meats: pork, chicken, beef, lamb, and goat. A few people stood in line at the deli counter.
To my disappointment, the fish onsite was frozen. I later learned that many people buy high-quality cuts of meat at butcher shops and fresh seafood at fish markets.
Popular seafood items include sea bream (a type of fish), sea bass, red mullet, sardines, octopus, and squid. Fish markets near the pier in Chania close early, most by no later than three in the afternoon.
Several Cretans claimed that meat and seafood are pricey, so they rely on beans for protein.
My journey to health through fresh food and travel.
In Chania, I mostly ate fresh produce, sea bream, and canned sardines. One Thursday afternoon, I bought two chicken quarters at the grocery store.
Unfortunately, I waited to cook the poultry until Saturday morning, two days later. When I opened the package, one chicken quarter was green and smelled more sulfur-like than rotten eggs.
I rushed the package to the green neighborhood trash bin down the block. Back home, I usually freeze meat if I don’t cook it right away, but the few times I waited a day or so, the food never turned bad.
In Greece, chicken is free from preservatives, in line with EU and Greek food safety standards that prioritize minimal processing. Because of the freshness of the food, I went grocery shopping twice a week. The apartment’s refrigerator, the size of a dorm refrigerator with a freezer, also drove my need to buy food frequently.
I have psoriasis and adult acne, and over my time in Greece, my skin cleared up. A friend sent a WhatsApp claiming my face looked smoother in the few pictures I had taken of myself. Her message brought a smile to my face.
I wasn’t sure if my “glow up” came from the fresh food, salty air, less stress, my new braids, or all the above. Immersing myself in the Mediterranean lifestyle inspired me to make food work for my benefit.
My relationship with food, its quality, and the time I spend consuming it (not rushing to finish my meals) is evolving. The Mediterranean and its people have taught me many lessons to chew on.