By Panagiotis, Chef at Artaki Restaurant, Koroni, Greece
When I open the doors of Artaki Restaurant each morning, the sea greets me first — a calm, silvery blue stretching toward the horizon. Behind the town, the hills rise gently, dotted with olive trees, lemon groves, and carob. This is Koroni, a traditional fishing village in southern Messinia, Peloponnese, Greece, where the rhythm of life still follows the sun, the seasons, and the scent of the sea.
I grew up watching my grandmother cook with what the land and the day offered — a handful of greens, a piece of bread, a drizzle of olive oil. She taught me that simplicity is not poverty, but wisdom. That memory guides everything I do today in my kitchen.
At Artaki Restaurant I try to keep that wisdom alive. I work closely with local growers — people I’ve known since childhood. They bring me crates filled with whatever the season gives: figs in late summer, wild greens and lemons in winter, tomatoes bursting with sunlight in June. Every dish begins with their hands and their land.
Our guests often tell me that the food “tastes like home.” I think that is the greatest compliment I could ever receive. What they really mean is that it tastes real — because it comes from small gardens and family fields, not factories.
I design the menu seasonally, letting nature decide. When there is surplus, nothing goes to waste: yesterday’s baked vegetables might become today’s savory pie, and fish bones make a fragrant stock for tomorrow’s soup. To me, sustainability isn’t a trend — it’s the only honest way to cook.
Cooking, for me, is also art. I paint when I’m not in the kitchen, and the restaurant is decorated like a quiet Mediterranean courtyard — bright light, cool shadows, and the whisper of the sea. I want people to feel that they are not just eating, but entering a story — one of warmth, patience, and respect for life.
Every season brings change, but the essence remains: to honor the gifts of this land and sea, to share them with love, and to remind people that the Mediterranean diet is not only healthy — it is humane. It connects farmers, fishermen, cooks, and families in a single, living tradition.
I believe food can teach us balance — between taking and giving, between pleasure and respect. When visitors leave Artaki Restaurant I hope they carry a piece of that balance with them — the taste of olive oil on fresh bread, the joy of sharing, and the quiet promise that if we care for our land, it will always care for us.
That, to me, is what the Mediterranean means — not just a place on the map, but a way of living with gratitude.
