One Day With Anastasia Miari

ONE DAY WITH | MASTERS & MUSES | WORLD OF CABANA

In this series, we glimpse into the daily lives of artists, designers, creatives and tastemakers. Alongside raising her young family, British-Greek cook and travel writer Anastasia Miari has spent the last few years cooking with grandmothers in the Mediterranean to document their authentic homegrown recipes for her new book, Mediterranea. She talks Cabana through her flavor-filled days and the lessons she's learnt. 

INTERVIEW BY CAMILLA FRANCES | MASTERS & MUSES | 31 JULY 2025

Since I moved to Greece from London, I observe Greek working hours. I’ve always been a morning person and my most productive work day - resulting in most things being satisfactorily checked off a list - begins at 8am and ends at around 2pm. Then in true Mediterranean nonna style, a siesta is usually in order. My brain turns to must after 4pm and all I seem to manage is emails and admin - nothing vaguely creative.

Breakfast depends a lot on where I am. Since I started travelling the world to cook with grandmothers, it might be that I find myself in Sicily devouring a sugar-encrusted croissant for breakfast at a packed local bar. Or, in Turkey, partaking in a feast of kingly proportions like the one in my latest book, Mediterranea, featuring eggs on wild greens, sesame sprinkled simet bread and spinach and cheese phyllo rolls.

When I’m at home in Corfu during the summer, my aunts and neighbours will let me have the first pick of the eggs from their hens. So, at the moment I’m very into a medium boiled egg with walnuts, feta and tomatoes fresh from the vines in my garden.

All images from Mediterranea by Anastasia Miari with photographs by Marco Argüello.

On the road with Marco Arguello,my collaborator and photographer, we always wonder what situation is going to meet us. We arrive at a grandmother's home to cook and shoot with her for my cookbooks. When I’m writing my cookbooks, everything usually happens on site - bar the recipe testing and copy editing post.

I cook with the grandmother and write down her recipe as we go. And then we shoot the dish she makes, and her own crockery and tableware. Marco and I always hope for the holy trinity of situations - an amenable grandmother who’s happy to share her story and be photographed, great retro interiors and a delicious dish. It’s a roll of the dice every time we go and that’s what makes this project so exciting.

I always take a homemade fig and ouzo jam to their homes. My fig tree in Corfu is so heavy with figs in August that I have an abundance of fruit I’d never dream of letting go to waste. In the Mediterranean - especially in Greece - it’s rude to show up to someone’s home empty handed. It’s equally frowned upon to refuse a ‘kerasma’ (a drink, snack or bite to eat that's offered), so I usually come away bursting at the seams.

While I cook with the grandmother, Marco snoops around their homes and snaps at the interiors. I love that we always come across a piece of furniture from the 1950s or 1960s, still wrapped in the plastic that it was bought in. The other ever-present item is usually an old exercise bike that has long been used as a clothes horse. I love the beautiful hand woven linens that have been with the ladies since their dowry was entrusted to them and the crochet or hand embroidered pieces they’ve made throughout their lifetimes. Ubiquitous is also beautiful terrazzo flooring, something these women are forever embarrassed about because according to them ‘it’s not modern enough.’

Grandmothers never measure when they’re cooking so I take a measuring jug and scales, which usually yields a raised eyebrow - at the very least. I love that they’ve perfected a specific repertoire of dishes over a lifetime and have little need for recipes. They do everything ‘by the eye’ and truly feel their food. It’s where I aim to be in fifty years’ time and partly why I do what I do, focusing on collecting recipes that have and will endure rather than fad dishes that come and go from instagram feeds.

Lunch is usually enjoyed in the company of these incredible women. And family members who've popped in to see what all the fuss is about. It’s so heartwarming to be welcomed into someone’s home and to travel in this way. I also get the best local food recommendations because of the time I spend with people who have lived in their village or home town their entire lives. I will never forget a creamy pistachio and prawn linguine I ate in a restaurant on the coast of Sicily in Cefalu, thanks to the recommendation of a grandmother I had cooked with. I still dream about it on warm summer days by the sea.

The women I’ve met during my decade of cooking with grandmothers stand out for so many different reasons. Cooking with Nonna Italia, in my latest book, was a crazy experience. Marco and I landed into Naples airport in the morning, and after an ordeal with the car rental, we arrived at her home completely parched. She and her son refused to give us any water and insisted we ‘drink wine because water rusts the bones’, no trace of irony. A chaotic morning in her small kitchen ensued, in which we were repeatedly snapped at by her over protective pooches and watched over by six family members, getting progressively drunk in the process. At one point, we moved the dining room table to get closer to the natural light of the balcony, in order to shoot her oven baked oregano potatoes, and the entire table fell apart - much to Nonna’s dismay. It was hilarious and felt like the ideal way to arrive into Naples, very much a city of chaos.

The ultimate way to spend my weekends are with my family. My daughter, Calypso, is one of the funniest people I’ve ever met and I love that she is now talking and engaging in conversation. We head to a quiet stretch of beach early and then go to a taverna for the customary Greek salad, oregano fries and grilled sea bream.

In the evenings I usually host friends. We'll dine on my balcony in Athens, cooking the dishes I love most from my books and recipe testing on my nearest and dearest.

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Mediterranea by Anastasia Miari with photographs by Marco Argüello (published by Quadrille, £28) is now available for order.