Local women here would mark life’s most significant events by gifting embroidered bread, making the most of what was a basic ingredient in their homes. Motifs ranged from flowers to birds, lizards, leaves, and grapes, all painstakingly shaped into the dough with simple sticks and combs. The symbols had relevance: grapes to wish the recipient a successful harvest; a dove to wish a life of peace; but the most popular was the tourtoulaki, a ringed bread that served as a wedding invitation. This would be placed into a large basket, and two young village girls enlisted to carry this to the doors of every home—the bread serving as an invitation to the upcoming wedding.
Following World War II, Mesogaia’s infrastructure starting improving thanks to the construction of a new coastline road, making the region accessible to Athenians seeking time on the coast. Post-war tourism brought opportunity and money to the region, and slowly, the practice of embroidered bread petered out. People could afford to buy cakes—or bake them—to mark life events, and embroidered bread, which was seen as a reminder of times of hardship, fell out of favor.
Ten years ago, Giota began her research into the custom and, in the absence of any documented history, traveled across Mesogaia’s villages to interview local elders. Then, with no formal training, she began to practice it herself. Giota is humble about her talent, but it’s hard work. Crafting a medium-sized bread requires several hours of sitting, bent over, and painstakingly creating the designs with small sticks. “It’s not possible to even leave it for an hour to get some rest as the bread cannot be left to dry out. It needs to be made in one go, placed into the bread oven in my garden to bake, then glazed.”
Given it’s such a labor-intensive task with little financial reward—the breads she makes aren’t edible or sold anywhere—I’m curious as to why she chooses to spend so much time dedicated to the craft.
“Greece has so many customs, and is like a thousand countries rolled into one. I believe very strongly that local communities and villages, especially in Mesogaia, are living museums and their culture and traditions offer so much more than just the ancient sights that Greece is famous for,” she explains. Mesogaia itself offers much by way of wineries, groves of olive and fig trees, and countryside churches. Several hamlets here still have the community bread ovens used for baking the embroidered bread in the past.
As the only person making embroidered bread here, for years Giota’s work went unnoticed. Until she was discovered by Marina Kavallieraki, the founder of Vouryia Handcrafted Travel Experiences, who eventually persuaded her to share her talent with visitors to the region. Originally from Crete, where a similar embroidered bread tradition flourished in the past, she understood the importance of its preservation. “It took meeting Marina to help me understand that sharing the love of my craft is like a form of international relations,” says Giota, “It’s a way to bridge cultural divides.”
Keen for me to experience first-hand the process of what it’s like to make embroidered bread, Giota insists I make my own tourtoulaki. I set about the task of kneading and shaping the base, followed by the somewhat fiddly exercise of creating my own decorations to go on top. I end up with a couple of leaves and something that passes for grape on a vine. “There are no right or wrong symbols, make what you like,” she says.
Marina has been instrumental in bringing visitors like me to witness the art form and understand its cultural significance first-hand. As she explains it, if travelers come to Mesogaia and experience the tradition of its embroidered bread, the hope is that “it will not just help them understand this cultural heritage … but also open their eyes to discover more about their own heritage.”
