Sneaky sun rays caress my face on a lazy Sunday morning.This is the first clear memory from my childhood – full of light and smell.  The fresh tangy smell of the strained yoghurt that spills around the whole house and I know that my Sunday starts with the promise of a something special.  Mama is making Tarator!  Not the daily Tarator summer soup that we can make with eyes closed, but the “dry” Tarator.  Ah!  I can eat it with the big spoon!  Straight from serving bowl...