Years ago, my family was in Delphi on Easter Sunday. It was in the 1990s, before the days of mass tourism. The main street was closed off, because the road was being used by villagers who set up their fires to spit-roast whole lambs with herbs from the surrounding marquis. 
The smell was wonderful – and so was the hospitality: we were all invited to join in the eating, dancing and singing. There was a real sense of a Christian festival, of joy, of release from the deprivations of Lent. And so my Easter menu is always roast lamb in memory of the wonderful Easter when I was a teen.
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