When I travel, sometimes I feel like a nomad: I sleep under the sky, drink from a stream, eat dishes baked over a fire. And when luck puts hospitable people in my way, I can get to know a new place in depth while eating what the natives do. There is no greater reward for me after the hardships of the journey than good food: hearty and spicy, like mutton meat, spiced generously with chili, cut with a gyro knife by Greek shepherds.
