Tentacle Spectacular

Nothing quite sums up the Mediterranean like octopus grilled until the tips are slightly charred, served with a plate of salty Greek chips

- Simon Hopkinson

GREEK chips, sprinkled with plenty of salt and pungently dried oregano and eaten by the sea, make, for this particular cook, one of the very finest plates of food. Add an almost burnt tangle of octopus, the tingle of a spritz of lemon, chilled tin jugs of retsina, the scent of Ambre Solaire (the old 1960s product my mother used to slather herself with is still the best) and, of course, sunshine: all evoke the Mediterranean for me, almost as nothing else.

Octopus will also arrive as mezze in fat little slices, all pink and juicy, stuck with a toothpick for ease of transfer from small plate to open mouth. There are purply-black Kalamata olives, too, as well as the crunch of a chunk of cucumber.

And ouzo, of course, with lots of ice—‘Me pollá págo,’ I will demand of the handsome Greek waiter, sporting a happy grin. The drink arrives all milky in its tall, thin glass and will, before too long, I know, warm up in the midday sun. So I add more ice and I drink.

Grilled octopuses with chips and oregano

Serves 2

These octopuses would be perfect grilled over charcoal on a barbecue until well burnished and, ideally, with the thinner tips of the tentacles burnt a little —my favourite bit! Otherwise, use a ribbed, stove-top grill, turning them occasionally until cooked to how they would be on the barbecue.