On an island in the Aegean, in the middle of an olive grove, my husbands prep school headmaster has built himself his life’s dream – a small, square, whitewashed tower with arched windows and pilasters round the top where, in his retirement, he goes for most of the year to paint. One summer just after we married we decided to visit him there; the bus dropped us at a café on the beach and we stumbled towards his tower with our suitcases through the stubbly grass of the olive groves. We had a happy time but, living alone, his diet seemed to consist of bread and a bumper jar of Marmite from England. So I cooked a bit and there wrote my first recipe; a simple stew which he could do for himself if he tired of the Marmite. I also learnt from a restaurant in the town how to cook chicken in the easiest and most delicious way, flavoured with stick cinnamon. They told me it was a common way to cook chicken in Greece but I have never had it like that again. Here is the way that I do it.
© 1976 Josceline Dimbleby. All rights reserved.