September is the month of harvest. The grapes, heavy and ripe, soak up the sun in every cluster, bringing with them the sweet taste of autumn. They are little treasures of the earth, but they are not born on their own. They need care, effort, and love.
That care I learned well through my mother. On her own, with patience and perseverance, she watered, tended, and looked after the vines in our garden. Her effort is what gave the grapes their sweetness and strength. And so, behind every harvest there is not only the generosity of nature, but also a person who gave time and love without counting the cost of fatigue.
And then comes moustalevria (grape must pudding). Not as a simple dessert, but as a memory. With the scent of cinnamon and the grape must simmering slowly in the pot, it always brings to mind my grandmother—the image of her giving shape to tradition, filling the home with warmth. A traditional treat loaded with memories, aromas, and nostalgia.
May September be as sweet as must, as strong as effort, and as warm as our childhood memories...
