There’s an old story about a businessman who goes on holiday and meets someone who has already figured out what he’s still working toward. This is our version, set at a small taverna somewhere in Greece.
A Wall Street executive was spending a few days on a quiet Greek island. Every afternoon, he found himself back at the same taverna by the water.
The fish was fresh. The tomatoes needed nothing more than olive oil and salt. And Spiros, the fisherman who owned the place with his wife, never seemed to be in a hurry.
One afternoon, the visitor watched him begin clearing the tables.
“You’re closing already?” he asked. “With food like this, you could keep the kitchen open all day.”
“We’ll open again this evening,” Spiros said.
“But think of the business you’re missing.”
Spiros shrugged. “We make enough to look after our family. We’re happy here.”
“So what do you do with the rest of your time?”
“I take the boat out early. When I come back, I have my coffee. My wife and I get things ready for lunch. In the afternoon, we rest. Then we open for dinner, and afterward our friends come by. We pour some raki. Someone usually brings a bouzouki. There’s always something to talk about.”
The executive pulled up a chair.
“Listen, I do this for a living. You could hire a few people and stay open longer. With the extra money, you could open another taverna. Then another. Before long, you’d have restaurants all over Greece.”
Spiros listened.
“Of course, you’d have to leave the island,” the man continued. “Move to Athens. Eventually London, perhaps New York. You’d need to be where the investors are.”
“And how long would all this take?”
“Fifteen or twenty years. You’d have to work hard.”
“And then?”
“Then you sell the company. You could make millions.”
“And what would I do with millions?”
The executive smiled.
“Anything you want. You could move to a little village in Greece. Have your coffee by the sea. Spend time with your wife. Take a nap in the afternoon. Sit with your friends at night, drink raki, play music.”
Spiros put two glasses on the table.
“My friend,” he said, “aren’t I already doing that?”
A taverna of your own
It’s an easy story to smile at. A little harder to remember on a busy Tuesday.
Most of us can’t close up for the afternoon or move to an island. But we can put something on the table, call a friend and let dinner go on a little longer than planned.
Everyone can have a taverna of their own. Yours might be a kitchen in Queens, a backyard in Chicago or a balcony with just enough room for two chairs. It’s the place where you feed people, pull up another seat and mean it when you say, “Stay a little longer.”
Our Taverna Name Series gives that place a sign above the door, at least in your imagination: a Greek taverna with your name on it.
There are two settings to choose from—the detailed village scene of Traditional Village and the quiet Cycladic lines of Aegean Modernist—with 50 available names, each written in Greek.
A little piece of Greece for the place you already call home.