BREAKING BREAD


homas Douzis looks at me aghast across a table heaving with Greek


yogurt, sesame koulouri


bread and cheesy bougatsa pastries. I’ve suggested the unthinkable — that we have meat and fish for lunch. This, it turns out, is just not done. I’m sitting in the morning sun outside Ergon Agora, Thomas’s


fashionable food emporium and restaurant in Thessaloniki, having been welcomed with a warm smile, a kiss on each cheek and half a dozen breakfast dishes. Inside the shop, cool white walls and concrete pillars oversee a central deli of cheeses, salamis and stuffed vine leaves. There are sacks of beans and barrels of wrinkly kalamata olives, shelves of oils, anchovies and mustards, and a wall of local Greek wines. Thomas has invited me to join him for


lunch later, along with his wife Alexandra, daughter Sofia and a few friends. I know I’m in for a treat as, although he’s only 36, Thomas is a man of some reputation within the Greek food world. He and his brother George started Ergon 15 years ago, just two blocks from their grandfather’s deli. In the


82 NATIONALGEOGRAPHIC.CO.UK/FOOD-TRAVEL


beginning, they were “just two kids selling olive oil”. But the brothers have since built a mini empire, with 15 Ergon delis across Europe supplied by an impressive network of artisan Greek food producers. However, as is often the case when dealing


with those who really know their food, deciding what dish to cook — and therefore what ingredients to buy — is easier said than done. There are rules to be observed. “We could have moussaka. We’ll definitely


have Greek salad — when we talk about salad, it’s always Greek salad,” Thomas muses, a wry smile creasing his face. “Then there’s slow roast pork. We eat it on Sundays with our grandparents — ahh, but it’s not Sunday.” Lefteris Athanasopoulos, Thomas’s friend


and Ergon’s executive chef, is drafted in from the kitchen. He suggests barbecuing a sea bass. Thomas, in turn, suggests a gemista, a family favourite of peppers and tomatoes stuffed with rice and herbs. This, however, would mean two main courses. They could, it seems, swap the sea bass


for sardines, which would count as a starter, but Thomas is keen to use minced beef in his gemista stuffing — and, as I now know, serving meat and fish is a no-go. So we’re back to square one.


Part of the problem is the sheer choice.


Thessaloniki might be Greece’s second city, but it’s widely considered its culinary capital. Its location, in the far north of the country, has made it something of a gateway between two continents and, over millennia, migrants have added twists to the local cuisine. This can be seen in the many gyros bars, which spin a Greek version of the Turkish kebab, or in the delis selling slabs of halvah (a sweet made from sesame paste, originating from the city’s Jewish communities). I ask Thomas what the city’s typical dish


would be. “Ahh,” he replies, a twinkle in his eye. “The food of Thessaloniki. Is it Macedonian salad? Greek moussaka? Or is it Turkish imam bayildi?”


MARKET TIME We could get all we need from Ergon’s plentiful shelves, but Thomas is keen to show me around his city. So, having finally decided on a lunch menu — a starter of grilled octopus followed by a meat-free gemista and smoky melitzanosalata (eggplant dip) — and stocked up on Thomas’s favourite wine and olive oil, we head to Kapani market in the old town. Markets play a central role in Thessaloniki’s food culture, and locals commonly barter for


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