The creamy soul of a Cyprus summer

In the heat of summer, when the sun hangs heavy and appetites grow light, there are few things more welcome than a bowl of chilled tzatziki.

Velvety, tangy and flecked with crisp cucumber and aromatic herbs, this garlicky yoghurt dip is more than just a condiment – it’s a cultural mainstay, a seasonal ritual and a soothing counterpoint to the fire of the grill.

Tzatziki has its roots in ancient culinary traditions, with origins that stretch across the eastern Mediterranean, the Balkans and the Middle East. In Greece and Cyprus, it has become a familiar companion to grilled meats and warm pitta. But the idea of combining yoghurt, garlic and cucumber goes back much further – influenced by Persian and Ottoman cuisines, and even earlier fermented dairy practices that prized yoghurt for its cooling, preserving properties.

The word tzatziki itself likely derives from the Turkish cacık, a similar yoghurt-based dish flavoured with cucumber, herbs and sometimes mint. In neighbouring regions, you’ll find variations under other names – mast-o-khiar in Iran, tarator in Bulgaria, raita in India – all with the same essential idea: fresh, tangy dairy combined with cooling ingredients to combat the heat.

What sets tzatziki apart is its bold simplicity. Thick, strained yoghurt forms the base, providing richness and a gentle sourness. Finely grated cucumber, well-salted and drained, adds freshness and crunch. Garlic gives it a bite, while olive oil, dill or mint, and sometimes a dash of vinegar or lemon juice round out the flavour.

Tzatziki is inseparable from the Greek and Cypriot table. In Cyprus, it’s served year-round but takes on special significance in summer, when meals often move outdoors and everything slows to match the heat. It sits at the heart of a meze spread, it’s dolloped beside souvlaki, spooned over warm bread, or eaten straight from the bowl with a bit of cucumber or carrot.

But while tzatziki is humble, it is far from boring. Its flavour depends on balance – too much garlic, and it overwhelms; too little, and it lacks character. The yoghurt must be thick enough to hold its shape, but not so firm that it loses its softness. The best versions are homemade.

As July leans into August, tzatziki becomes more than a recipe – it becomes a way of coping with the heat, of bringing something cold and fresh to the table without turning on the oven. It’s a dish of shade and breeze, of clinking glasses and late afternoons. And with every cooling spoonful, tzatziki offers a soft, sustaining reminder of how the simplest foods are often the most essential.