It's much more than a trip to the supermarket when it comes to Greek food.  There are a number of small rituals involved, including the olive oil from your uncle's grove, the fresh cheese your mother brought last week while removing the one she brought a week ago, which she would then turn into little fritters and bring around on her next visit while castigating your wastefulness.  It’s harvesting wild asparagus for such a brief period of time that it barely lasts a full lunar cycle. There will always be someone coming after you who shouldn't go empty handed, so you should never take everything you find.

It's your clumsy attempt at making your own marinated anchovies in a jar topped with olive oil, long forgotten. Self sufficiency will have to wait, your wife said after trying them, as you felt your ears turn red as if they were crimson sails prepared for battle.  And finally a trip to the supermarket for some potatoes and eggs, or a beloved weekly trip to the “laiki”, the farmers market, which to my unorthodox Albanian mind, has come to replace the Sunday mass in both affection and devotion for many modern Greeks.  Or if you live in London, you could go to Spa Terminus market and let the Maltby&Greek team enact the various parts like true pros.