Just above the Potamon Dam in Rethymno, where the air smells faintly of pine and wet stone, we stopped by the roadside for something small and perfectly Cretan — a handful of wild Koomara berries.
They are the kind of fruit you do not plan to find. You simply notice them — glowing red like tiny lanterns against dark green leaves — and you pull over. The Koomaria (Arbutus unedo – or, in English, Strawberry tree), the modest evergreen that carries them, is one of Greece’s quiet beauties. In late autumn, it blooms and fruits at the same time, a botanical paradox that turns the hillsides into a painter’s palette of white blossoms and scarlet dots.
The Tree with Two Seasons
Native to the Mediterranean, the Koomaria is both resilient and ornamental. It grows in dry, rocky slopes where little else thrives, clinging to Cretan hillsides that bake in summer and freeze in winter. The shrub can reach four meters in height, its branches twisting into sculptural shapes.
Its secret is balance — roots that find water, leaves that conserve it, and a patience evolved over centuries of drought. It thrives in full sun, in soil that drains faster than rain can linger, and it does not ask for much. That alone earns it a quiet kind of reverence among Cretans, who have long admired things that survive by their own strength.
A Berry Worth Stopping For
The fruit itself, the koomaro, is round, slightly prickly, and wonderfully unpredictable. Some berries are sweet like jam, others tart like a green apple. Their texture is soft and grainy, melting almost before you swallow. Locals pick them fresh for a trail snack or collect them by the basket to make kumaro raki or homemade liqueur — a drink that smells of forest and fire.
They are also eaten fresh, dried, or cooked into spoon sweets and jams, though one must know when to stop: ancient Greek writers warned that “unedo” — “I eat only one” — was good advice, since overindulgence could cause dizziness. Whether that was science or myth, no one seems entirely sure, but the phrase has followed the fruit through centuries.
From Folklore to Pharmacy
The ancient Greeks believed the Koomaria possessed healing powers, and modern science gives that legend weight. Recent studies confirm that Arbutus unedo is far more than a wild treat — it is a biochemical treasure.
The berries, known in research as strawberry tree fruits (ST fruits), contain 70–80% carbohydrates (dry weight) with 10–30% fiber, making them an excellent natural energy source. They also hold 1–9% plant proteins and 2–3% lipids, providing balanced nutrition shaped by the environment — the richer the soil and the warmer the air, the more potent the fruit.
But the real magic lies beyond macronutrients. The Koomaria’s leaves, roots, wood, and even its honey are loaded with bioactive compounds — polyphenols, secondary metabolites, and lipids — that exhibit strong antioxidant, anti-inflammatory, antimicrobial, and antidiabetic properties. These compounds have been linked to reducing the risk of cardiovascular diseases, diabetes, and inflammatory disorders.
In short, what ancient herbalists guessed, modern scientists have verified: the Koomaria is not only beautiful — it is biologically generous.
Beauty on the Roadside
Along the slopes of Crete, the Koomaria has no need to be cultivated — it simply grows where it wishes, shaping the landscape without asking for reward. You might see it near Amari, Psiloritis, or the Rethymno–Arkadi road, where its colors brighten the muted greens of the season.
It is, in its own quiet way, a celebration of autumn — a bridge between summer’s heat and winter’s rest. And for travelers who slow down long enough to notice, it offers a moment of Cretan truth: that beauty here is rarely planned, and never loud.
So, if you find yourself driving above the Potamon Dam this season and the hills seem to sparkle with red berries, stop for a while. Pick one, taste it, and let the island remind you — some of the sweetest things in Crete are found on the roadside.
