A jet-setting quest to chronicle the recipes — and life stories — of grandmas everywhere

On the Greek island of Corfu, in the tourist-free village of Perivoli (population: roughly 1,500), prepare yourself for a long uphill hike, past vibrant bougainvillea bushes. Here you’ll find the muse of this origin story: Anastasia Miari’s 84-year-old Yiayia (”granny”), likely bustling back and forth between her white-walled rural home and tiny outhouse kitchen, perhaps minding a pot of cinnamon-spiced stifado stew over a roaring fire.

The desire to preserve Yiayia’s cherished recipes before they were lost forever was the initial spark for a passion project that has since become an ambitious new book: Grand Dishes, available at granddishes.com this month and in North American stores this summer, co-authored by Miari, a lifestyle journalist, and Iska Lupton, a cook and creative director.

“I still don’t think she understands that books are going to land in her hands, and she’s on the cover,” says Miari, who grew up in Greece until moving to the U.K. at age 10, and summered in Corfu under her grandma’s care after that.

Yiayia, the eldest of 10 kids, never went to school, but considered cooking and looking after family what she learned to do best. Her entire days revolved around food, whether that meant walking an hour just to tend vegetables in her little allotment of land, harvesting olives from her own trees, or blistering marinated sea bream — a dish her late husband, George, loved — on an open flame.

After gleaning stories from Yiayia, the co-authors caught up with Lupton’s grandma Lally in Exeter, England, who confided memories of life after escaping Nazi Germany, alongside her recipe for schnitzel (both are in the book). It didn’t take long before the duo realized they had much more than a personal mission on their hands.

They set out to find new subjects willing to open their kitchens, drawing on recommendations and no shortage of serendipity, too. An ex-boyfriend’s chat with a granny on a flight, for instance, led — through friend-of-a-friend connections — Miari and Lupton to the private paradise of Palmizana Island in Croatia, by invitation of Dagmar, an art dealer and the resort’s matriarch proprietor.

“She just summoned these two guys and said, ‘Make me a fire!’ and then put this massive pot of fish and white wine on there to cook for 20 minutes,” recalls Lupton. “The stew was absolutely epic.” (You’ll find how-tos for this gregada in the book, too.) Even more magical was lunching al fresco with Dagmar’s gaggle of closest friends — all incredibly glamorous women over 60, who shared priceless wisdom, like the total sense of freedom that comes with age.

Over the course of about two years, Miari and Lupton cooked with around 40 grannies in more than a dozen countries, sharing their travels and mini profiles on Instagram (@granddishes). They hopscotched around Europe, zipped to Russia, Cuba and Mexico, and spent five weeks road-tripping across seven U.S. states. They also wrangled recipes from noted food personalities dedicated to their grandmas, including Argentine celebrity chef Francis Mallmann and Brit food writer Rosie Birkett.

Despite being a collection of time-tested recipes, the book’s motto doesn’t revolve around food or, for that matter, even travel: “It’s not about what it’s like to be old. It’s about what it’s like to have lived.” What makes Grand Dishes most fascinating is the sensitive way it’s recorded the voices of a generation of women whose lives were largely domestic, quietly led and underrecognized.

“If you don’t ask the questions to a grandparent, they don’t necessarily volunteer that information,” says Lupton. “But if you kind of say, ‘You know, tell me about your life,’ these incredible stories — 70, 80 years in the making — come out.” You may find there are rich inner worlds to explore, without venturing far from home.

The Star understands the restrictions on travel during the coronavirus pandemic. But like you, we dream of travelling again, and we’re publishing this story with future trips in mind.