Readers of the previous post will find me in a fretful frame of mind. Here are some sunnier recollections.

I was lucky enough to eat the subtlest meal I have ever enjoyed in Greece during my stay on Santorini – at Yiorgos Hatziyannakis’s Selene (http://www.selene.gr/, +30 2286 022249). Yiorgos could have served me bread and cheese and a glass of water, though, and I would still have gone to bed happy, so beautiful a location is this. Santorini’s capital, Fira, tumbles off the cliff edge. Wherever you are in the white warren which overlooks the caldera, the effect is always the same: you feel yourself suspended like a falcon between sky and sea. You are dazed by the view; you feel weightless; you are an eyeball. Or, when you sit at one of the pretty candlelit tables which line Selene’s terraces, an eyeball with a stomach.

When we arrived, the sea was pink. By the first course, the sea was lilac. It was the colour of blood when we ate the fish course; it drained to ink for the meat course. By then, though, the moon was climbing the ladder of the sky, and was soon tipping silver coins over us.

We – the winegrowers of Santorini, plus Mary and Polys Pateras and I – began the meal with grilled artichokes with urchin salad and creamed fava. Fava are the yellow dried splitpeas for which Santorini has long been famous, though nowadays they are mostly grown across the caldera on the islet of Therassia.

Paris Sigalas - winemakerThis came partnered with another local speciality, sweet white aubergine, and – best of all – octopus carpaccio. Those who associate octopus with Firestone, Michelin and Goodyear should try this dish: softly succulent tentacle pressed into a mould, then thinly sliced. It was accompanied by the 2006 Santorini of Paris Sigalas – the perfect bottle to try if you want to define the island style. Teasing lemon scents, then a dramatically intense, salty-mineral flavour of great focus and precision, depth and concentration (90/100).

The second course was Aegean codfish in a crust of green pistachios and green pepper with saffron sauce … and the saffron was perfectly judged, to perfume but not overpower. We drank the 2006 Santorini of Argyros, which was correct but lacked the drama and incision of the Sigalas version (83/100). A third course of squid stuffed with rice and its own ink was thick and deliciously viscous; Italians would have been proud of it.

Yiannis Paraskevopoulos of GaiThis time it came with the 2005 Vareli (oaked) Santorini of Gaia. When you taste unoaked Santorini it is so good yet so severe, so mineral, so acid that one might assume oak to be inevitably ill-judged; in fact, in the skilled hands of Yiannis Paraskevopoulos, it works very well, adding layers and texture at the price of just a little edge and minerality (89/100).

The fourth course was pigeon stuffed with bulghur and dried fruits: another brilliant dish, impeccably conceived and executed. The pigeon, I suspect, hadn’t done many airmiles by wingpower, since it was plump and succulent enough to see me gnawing the bones. With this came the 2006 Nykteri of Hatzidakis. Nykteri is an old Santorini descriptor whose etymology refers to the fact that it was picked, pressed and drawn off for fermentation in one day, that one day stretching late into the night.

In practice, it seems to mean ‘the best stuff’ compared to the other traditional style known as Brusco, which was ‘the rough stuff’. Thoughtful Haridimos Hatzidakis has re-interpreted the style: his is relatively late-picked, then barrel-fermented and give six months in used oak. It smells of split seaside rocks, somehow sweet and seaweedy at the same time; while the palate is magnificent, with unusually juicy fruit for Assyrtico (luscious passionfruit) backed and lent chewy width by the island’s diagnostic minerality (92/100). Haridimos does, though, have an even better wine which he is preparing to bottle; I hope to mention this in my FT article.

Finally, moon-dazed by now, we tucked into Chloro cheese (from the neighbouring island of Ios) aged in Vinsanto, and (the least sucessful dish) chocolate cream with more white aubergine. This was served with the 2001 Vinsanto of Gavalas. Gavalas is a winery which should be visited by anyone interested in Santorini’s winemaking history: the Vinsanto is still foot-trodden in floor troughs and drained through a basket into a cellar pit, as it would have been a thousand years ago. The result is a fascinating and compelling wine, but one which is hard to mark.

Most people, by the way, think that Vinsanto on Santorini is in some way a consequence of the centuries of Italian (Venetian) domination between the C13 and C16 centuries. In fact the reverse seems to be true. Santorini, thanks to its Assyrtico and its terroir of pumice and tephra, produced strong, sweet wine which could survive long sea journeys, albeit with a strong dose of oxidation. (Historically the island has had a lively export relationship with Russia, for example.) Vin Santo was an abbreviated version of Vino di Santorini; Italian versions were, thus, local renderings of the Greek original. You may think that I’ve been bribed by my friends on Santorini into delivering this version of events; in fact, though, the European Union has recognized the historical plausibility of this account, and Santorini’s is the only Vinsanto that can go to market with no further geographical qualification. Italian versions always have a geographical tag (Vin Santo Toscano, Vin Santo del Chianti, Vin Santo di Montepulciano).

Another excellent Santorini restaurant is Saltsa (http://www.saltsa.gr/; +30 2286 028018) where we ate tender sea bass carpaccio and a black eye bean salad with marinated octopus; more white aubergine, this time cleverly deep-fried in a sesame-spice crust; a smooth risotto made with cuttlefish, fennel and leek; and pork loin with portobello mushrooms and a pesto made with another local speciality, sun-dried tomatoes. (Baby tomatoes grow wild on Santorini.) Dessert was better than at Silene, especially the panacotta made with buttermilk and served with figs. Saltsa doesn’t have a caldera view and is a little too close to the main road for tranquillity but it’s a pretty place nonetheless, reminding me of the deck of a paddlesteamer, and Dimitris and Lilian Lazarou are very friendly hosts.

Evening in ImerovigliI stayed in the Hotel Heliotopos at Imerovigli, this being the quietest end of Fira (http://hotel.heliotopos.net; +30 2286 023670). Another first: the most beautiful Greek hotel I have ever stayed in. It combined the wonderful simplicity of a tumble of Ionian dwellings with stylish good taste (a school of steel fishes on the walls) and the comfort of showers and aircon. Imerovigli is also the highest point of the caldera wall, and faces the sea gap between Thirassia and the Oia peninsula, which is exactly where the sun sinks. Sundown, thus, is mesmerizing. The hotel holds a tutored wine tasting evening with a local oenologist every Tuesday at 19.30.

I didn’t visit any other hotels, but I did walk into Fira from Imerovigli along the tiny paths which vein the dwellings at the caldera edge. There are obviously many superb hotels and villas there. One which particularly caught my eye, thanks to the artfully positioned boat on the roof and its arresting name, is Homeric Poems (http://www.homericpoems.gr/; +30 2286 024661).

Anyone thinking of going to Santorini should imperatively get hold of a copy of the (free) Santorini Guidebook (aka the Red Book), which is published by the owner of the Heliotopos who also runs a major conference business. Email redguidebooks@heliotopos.net for details. It’s superb; there’s even a geological map, and it would enable you to plan a visit in great detail. Go!