A celebration of the traditional spirit of Amorgos
Picture the evening of July 26, the eve of Saint Panteleimon’s feast day, in Katapola on Amorgos. As the day begins to fade, leaving its vast orange trace over the fishing boats, the pace of the harbour changes. Once vespers and the blessing of the bread for the saint's feast have ended, the quay is suddenly filled with the sounds of the violin and the lute. The water reflects the first sparks from the candles, while the small glasses twinkle with the amber colour of baked raki, like lanterns beneath the night sky.
The legendary baked raki festival in Katapola feels like the deep breath of summer. The island's signature drink marries raki with sugar, perhaps honey, and a bouquet of herbs and spices: cinnamon, clove, anise, and pennyroyal. Sweet and aromatic, it leaves the warmth of summer on the palate.
The recipe for baked raki seems simple, yet it is never the same – each producer adds their own signature. The raki is heated slowly, the herbs boil separately, and the sugar is caramelised until it darkens. Everything is blended into a golden symphony of flavour, scented with orange peel and, if the maker so desires, honey. The magic lies in the proportions, in the hand that knows exactly when to remove it from the fire and when to add the honey.
During the baked raki festival, the coffee houses fill with xerotigana (fried dough strips) and small pies, the musicians change their tunes, and the harbour becomes the stage for a great circular dance of the kind that Greeks know how to organise like no other people.
The legendary baked raki festival in Katapola feels like the deep breath of summer. The island's signature drink marries raki with sugar, perhaps honey, and a bouquet of herbs and spices: cinnamon, clove, anise, and pennyroyal. Sweet and aromatic, it leaves the warmth of summer on the palate.
The recipe for baked raki seems simple, yet it is never the same – each producer adds their own signature. The raki is heated slowly, the herbs boil separately, and the sugar is caramelised until it darkens. Everything is blended into a golden symphony of flavour, scented with orange peel and, if the maker so desires, honey. The magic lies in the proportions, in the hand that knows exactly when to remove it from the fire and when to add the honey.
During the baked raki festival, the coffee houses fill with xerotigana (fried dough strips) and small pies, the musicians change their tunes, and the harbour becomes the stage for a great circular dance of the kind that Greeks know how to organise like no other people.
