
Cooked slowly,
the old way.
Hidden in the medieval kastelli of Emporio — the largest and least-touched village of Santorini — Spitaki opens onto a small courtyard shaded by bougainvillea and a single fig tree.
Everything on the plate has a short story: fava from Akrotiri, capers from the cliffs of Thirasia, tomatoes from the black volcanic soil a few minutes up the road. We cook the way our yiayia taught us — patiently, with olive oil, salt, and lemon.
“Kalos irthate — welcome, sit, eat with us.”



