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Yavrim
[yah-vreem] noun.
From the Turkish for "my baby", an endearing term whose meaning is closer to "my soul". Used by Greek families of Pontian origins (from Asia Minor) as an endearing term for children and loved ones. It's what our yiayia called us, and naming my business Yavrim means I get to honor her and share a small piece of my heritage and family's story with you.
About
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I became "yavrim" the day I was born - thanks in great part to my paternal grandmother, Yiayia Theano. Growing up, I would often find her in my dad’s horio (village) sitting waiting for me under the sikia (fig tree) in the summers and when I’d go visit.
Sometimes she’d stay out there waiting for us to get there, sitting on this plastic lawn chair whose legs were barely held together with some old rope, a branch in her hand swatting away the flies or mosquitoes from her legs.
When I was younger I always thought she was a bit too tough on me, I’m not ashamed to admit I loved my other yiayia Soula just a little bit more - she was the better cook (I was born a foodie) but moreso I think bc she was always smiling, dancing pontiaka and loving me in a way that made sense. With age, I realized that love comes in many shapes and sizes and is shaped by our experiences - and I’m glad I got to experience Theano’s version of love equally.
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She had strong mind, calves (lol) and back - until the very end. A resilient exterior had carried her and our family through somewhat rough times. What surprised me as I got older was that I learned that in that unbreakable shell was compassion - in the form of enough tears to be shed for the whole world’s worth of suffering. I’d sometimes think if I got that from her. Soft and strong in equal measure.
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Even though Theano had lived a million lives before I came around, to me she was just Yiayia. And in her eyes I’ll always be Yavrim or "yavroum tsoutsoum". The more emotional she was, the more syllables we'd get.
Yavrim is actually a Turkish word, but used by my family because I'm Pontian on both sides. Pontic Greeks emigrated (well, forcefully removed) from Asia Minor so our dialect, customs, dances and spices/ingredients in our food is unique to that history. I chose this word because it honors my heritage and the love I have for our cuisine, music and the culture associated. But beyond a word, "yavrim" will always remind me of my dad’s village and someone special waiting for me in the shade of a fig tree.
Now that both my yiayiades are gone, my dream is to pass down their love along with my Greek family’s stories with you all, one recipe at a time.
Filakia (kisses!),
Steph
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