Okra

Okra came into Greek and Cypriot cooking through the same Ottoman and wider eastern Mediterranean routes as aubergine, and it belongs firmly to high summer. Bamies ladera, the pods braised slowly in tomato and a generous quantity of olive oil until they are completely soft, is the standard treatment, sometimes with chicken added, and it is served warm or at room temperature rather than straight from the heat.

The whole reputation of okra rests on its sliminess, and Greek cooks deal with it in a specific way. The conical stem end is pared off carefully without cutting into the pod itself, since opening the seed chamber is what releases the mucilage. The trimmed pods are then salted, splashed with vinegar and left in the sun or an airy spot for an hour before they go anywhere near a pan.

The other rule is not to stir. Once the pods are in the pot they are shaken rather than turned with a spoon, because broken okra sheds both its texture and its liquid into the sauce. Small young pods, no longer than a finger, are far better than large ones, which turn woody and fibrous; frozen okra, already trimmed, is a reasonable option out of season.