For me, trahanas always smells like “the end of August.”
It smells of our little holiday house by the sea, the last days of our summer holidays, and that familiar moment when we began to realize that summer was slowly saying goodbye.
Every year, around this time, my grandmother would wait for the little northern breeze and make trahanas. It was almost a small ritual that returned every year. A ritual that continues to this day, not only to keep this tradition alive, but perhaps also to keep those moments with my grandmother a little closer to us.
Along with the last swims, the quieter days and that subtle change in the air, it was time for trahanas. And somehow, that familiar smell of the trahanas drying in the breeze came to remind us that another summer — and quite a bit of our carefree days — was coming to an end.
The dough was prepared, and then hands worked tirelessly until it was cut. First into larger pieces, then into smaller ones, followed by the big question: and now, where are we going to spread all of this? Tables, tablecloths, trays and every available surface in the house were called into service until there was enough room for all the trahanas.
And that was only the beginning.
Trahanas needed time. It had to dry, be grated and then spread out again, this time into smaller pieces, to dry thoroughly. In the past, the grating was done with a sieve, requiring patience and quite a bit of work. Today, thankfully, technology makes this part much easier.
And when it was finally ready, the trahanas was stored away, waiting to bring warmth and flavor to the cold winter months.
Back then, as a child, it was simply something that happened every year. Like so many things that seem insignificant while we are living them, only to take on a different meaning as the years go by.
Today, I understand that those days of making trahanas were more than simply preparing a traditional homemade food. They were a way of keeping alive the beauty of a tradition that, for earlier generations, symbolized preparation for the winter and a small farewell to summer. And perhaps that is why it is still made today, whenever someone chooses to give a little of their time and add a little of their own care and love to keep an old tradition alive.
And so, every time I see trahanas spread out to dry, I don’t see just a traditional recipe. I see our little holiday house by the sea, my grandmother in her apron, and those last days of summer that, back then, I never knew I would miss so much.
Because some flavors don’t simply remind us of a season. They take us back, for a little while, to those summers we thought would never end...
