It's been a fortunate year for my friend Tania Psathas. After seven years on dialysis, she had a call from the hospital to get herself ready for a kidney transplant. One person's luck had run out but Tania's had come in.
Despite being one of the most vibrant and positive people I know, she had been through many black days in that seven years. Within a week of the operation she was up and running, freed from the machine that had dominated her days. Her new life had begun.
So it was with great pleasure that I went to the Wellington Greek community centre to cook for Tania's Big Fat Greek Celebration, which her friends had organised to honour her Greek heritage.
With only the most cliched knowledge of Greek cooking, I packed my copy of Favourite Greek Recipes, a little ringbound compilation put together for a fundraiser in 1984.
Inspiration enough, I thought, until I meet Tania the day before the event. Anything held at the centre automatically involves the whole Greek community and so Tania would be under the eye of her extended family.
It had to be properly Greek, it had to be abundant: the worst crimes would be to not serve "proper food" or to run out.
