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Despite my Greek Canadian heritage, I was born and raised in Greece – a country that taught me, from a very young age, to ask questions. Often, things didn’t make logical sense, and yet they worked. That curiosity shaped me. Travelling across the Mediterranean later in life, I began to recognise shared food rituals, seasonal ingredients, and philosophies around nourishment, but also subtle differences that deepened my understanding of food culture. Those experiences created the foundation of who I am today and how I approach vegan baking at Arapina.
Some of my earliest memories are of going to Greek street markets with my mum. Greek markets are nothing like London markets. They are not curated or polished. They are raw, seasonal, loud, and deeply human. Many of the producers aren’t “reputable” in a commercial sense – but they farm with integrity, tradition, and respect for the land. Greece is a country rooted in agriculture, and Mediterranean baking traditions begin there, with fruits, vegetables, grains, nuts, and legumes grown with care.
Bringing those ingredients home meant following the rhythm of the land. Greek culture and religion quietly guided us into eating seasonally and, very often, plant-based. From a young age, I was exposed to food that lacked meat but never lacked flavour. Certain days of the week were naturally vegan. No one announced it, justified it, or questioned it – it was simply part of everyday life in a traditional Greek household.
Beyond weekly routines, there were long periods of Lent throughout the year. These periods required discipline, creativity, and intention. Many Greeks still follow Lent today, believing it purifies not only the body but also the soul. Sweets were still made during these times, which meant vegan and vegetarian baking was not an alternative – it was essential. Mediterranean vegan desserts existed long before the word “vegan” entered the conversation.
The smell coming from a Greek home is impossible to describe. It was the first thing I missed when I left home to study architecture in Patras. Waking up to silence – no clattering plates, no boiling pots, no aromas filling the space – was deeply unsettling. It wasn’t the people I missed most; it was the activity. In Greece, kitchens are where people come alive. During my early student years, that absence revealed just how powerful those shared rituals had been.
When I later started Arapina, people often asked how I could “do vegan” and exclude so many ingredients. I never felt restricted. I felt rich. Rich in knowledge that had been passed down without instruction or examination. I didn’t study how to handle vegetables, grains, and nuts – I lived it. That understanding was built slowly, from childhood through to university, rooted so deeply it became instinct. It’s knowledge I’ll carry with me forever.
Greek baking and Mediterranean cooking are not simply about producing food. They are about gathering. Everyone contributes – hands, skills, stories, presence. Baking is social, emotional, and connective. It nourishes far beyond the plate.
This philosophy is the heart of Arapina. Our Mediterranean vegan baking is not about removing ingredients – it’s about honouring tradition while making it inclusive. Veganism naturally supports those with intolerances, sensitivities, and dietary restrictions without isolating anyone. At Arapina, we believe food should bring people together, not divide them
We don’t bake vegan pastries because it’s fashionable. We bake this way because it’s rooted in culture, memory, and meaning. Mediterranean baking has always been about connection rather than consumption – and carrying that forward through thoughtful, flavour-led vegan creations is how we believe the future of food should look.
