Renowned chef Jean-Charles Métayer, Consultant Chef of Grace Hotel Santorini, in an interview on the Greek gastronomic scene.

From the very beginning, I knew I wanted a special destination to propose to my (then) girlfriend. It had to be out of the ordinary, with unforgettable views, and also be a great place to hide away together for a week or two after we got engaged. In short, I wasn’t going to settle for anything less than utterly romantic. Santorini fit the bill perfectly.

As Grace Hotel’s Head Chef, I’m blessed to be around so many distinctive, superbly refreshing white wines. They are the products of the island’s rich, centuries-old winemaking tradition. Crisp, minerally and bone-dry, these white wines pair wonderfully with local dishes, from the whole range of mezze spreads and refreshing salads tossed with feta or goat cheese, to lemon-accented fish and seafood dishes. Made primarily from the assyrtiko grape, which is grown on 65 percent of the ungrafted vines on the island, these wines beautifully represent their unique terroir.

I’ve practiced yoga all over the world, including in India and Nicaragua for hundreds of hours of yoga training. But one of the most magical is right here in Santorini, especially at my favorite spot, on a promontory rock in front of Grace Hotel that juts out into the Aegean Sea. Here, taking in splendid views of the Caldera, I feel connected to Asclepius, the Greek god of medicine and healing; Epione, the goddess of soothing; and their daughters, goddesses of health and recuperation. I feel their ancient powers flow through with each breath and yoga pose.

Santorini is awash in glorious hues: bright white buildings, churches topped with cobalt-blue domes, dusky red cliffs, bright pink bougainvillea, and pops of red geranium. But ask us about our favorite Santorini colors, and my husband and I will immediately tell you they’re black and white. That’s because our wedding at Grace Hotel featured a special unity sand ceremony that incorporated Santorini's famed black and white sands, which we collected from our favorite beaches on the morning of our wedding.

Half Greek, half American I’ve spent my childhood summers in Santorini—one of the most beautiful islands in Greece, as my father would say. From a window in my grandparents’ white Cycladic house, our view seemed to reach the edges of the earth. With each hour, a shift in light revealed new sights to marvel over, coloring the blur of ocean and sky into shades as captivating as the flicker of a candle flame. I remember that only one sight could compare; catching a glimpse of a Santorini wedding.

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.

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.