3,600 years ago, there was a massive volcanic eruption that devastated Santorini. Many believe the event inspired the mystical legend of Atlantis mentioned in Plato’s dialogues. I’m somewhat of a hopeless romantic for ancient myths like these, and as my husband and I would walk amid Santorini’s white buildings boasting royal blue roofs and views of the endless, glimmering ocean, I couldn’t help but wonder if the story of the lost city of Atlantis was true. The island gifted us a newfound adventurous spirit, and we set out to explore the mysterious, abandoned shipwrecks and hidden, deep-sea treasures of the Aegean Sea.

While my usual happy hour always starts with a “cheers” and clinked cocktails, our evenings at Grace Hotel included multiple toasts— and not just because it was my birthday week. Every night, I could count on an inevitable second round of glasses to be raised when Santorini’s famed sunset colors called for their own salute. In perfect view from our dining table we would watch as a soft, orange glow met the rich blues of the Aegean Sea and washed the endless horizon in striking color. I remember looking at one another, speechlessly gesturing to the grandeur in awe, thinking that nothing could compete with this view. I was wrong.

Would it sound entirely ridiculous to say the Santorini Cherry Tomato changed my life? My first encounter with the locally-grown treasure was at Aktaion Restaurant, an unassuming traditional taverna that turned out to to be one of the oldest on the island, built over nearly a century ago. It was there that my wife and I first tasted a traditional korkosela made with eggs, fresh tomato and green bell pepper. It was unlike any dish I have ever had. As a backyard-tomato-farmer, the delicacy sent me into a frenzy to research the mystical Santorini Tomato.