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16 U-15 shrimp, peeled

Kosher salt and cracked black pepper

1½ cups orzo

2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

2 cloves garlic, smashed and finely chopped

3 shallots, finely chopped

9 whole scallions, thickly sliced

½ cup water

3 plum tomatoes, roughly chopped

1½ cups smooth tomato sauce or purée (or a good, store-bought marinara)

¼ cup Garlic Purée (page 264)

¾ cup crumbled feta cheese, divided in half

6 cups baby spinach leaves (about 8 ounces)

Small handful torn fresh herbs, such as dill, mint, and/or parsley

Extra-virgin olive oil

Preheat the oven to 275°F. Season the shrimp with kosher salt and pepper.

Cook the orzo according to instructions and toss with 1 tablespoon of the oil. Reserve, keeping warm.

In a large, heavy soup pot, Dutch oven, or wok, warm the remaining tablespoon of olive oil over high heat. When the pot is very hot, add the garlic and shallots, and sauté for 1 minute. Add the scallions and shrimp, and sear for 30 seconds. Add the water, tomatoes, tomato sauce, and Garlic Purée. Cook for 2 minutes and remove the shrimp to the reserved orzo. Continue to reduce the liquid until the mixture has thickened (2 to 3 minutes), and season with salt and pepper.

Place a serving bowl in the preheated oven for 2 minutes to warm.

To the pot, add the orzo and shrimp, half of the feta, and the spinach, and toss to combine. As soon as the spinach has wilted (about 1 minute), transfer to the preheated bowl.

To finish, scatter the remaining feta, the fresh herbs, and a drizzle of olive oil over the top.

Left to right: Costas Psilakis, far left, and Cretan Dance Group; Michael Psilakis dancing on a bottle, 1987; Chef Psilakis in his father’s dancing costume

kefi–a time to dance

There is a single word in Greek, kefi, that explains a philosophy of life. Kefi is the culmination of a celebration when music, dance, food, liquor, and the company you share intersect. The effect is so ethereal and the feeling so euphoric that you realize this is what life is about. It isn’t material possessions—the size of your house or the kind of car you drive—that are important. It’s the joy you derive from celebrating life with the people you love.

When I was five years old, my parents sent me to Greek school at our local Greek Orthodox church on Long Island. We learned not only how to read and write Greek, but also about Greek culture and the country our parents had left behind. The religious component of the program wasn’t dominant (because the church also had Sunday school, which of course I had to attend) but the culture is tied into the religion and vice versa, so religion was a unifying aspect of all of the other elements of our program.

I found my time at the church for Greek school to be very peaceful. It wasn’t because of any deep-seated religious beliefs, but rather because of the friendships that I made there. I found a support system I desperately needed among the other children of Greek immigrants. They understood me in a way that only children growing up in the same cultural bubble could comprehend.

As part of the curriculum, we learned traditional Greek folk dancing. Initially, the forty-five minutes of dance instruction every Saturday was relatively casual. Mrs. Benes was a good recreational folk dancer, but she was not a professional. It was when Mrs. Sopasis, a retired professional dancer, came to Greek school to teach us that I really became interested in Greek, especially Cretan, dancing.

As Mrs. Sopasis and her daughter, Debbie (later my dance partner), whipped us into shape, requests for our dance troupe started to come in. We were regularly asked to perform at church bazaars and festivals. As I became more passionate about my dancing, I also became more determined to be the best in our troupe.

Before every performance, my father would come backstage to help us dress. Then, before I ever took my first step onto the stage, he would be back in his seat in the audience to watch me dance.