Sicily


‘Tis time to depart this remarkable villa in Sicily and say goodbye to the seven others who shared this experience with me in the steep town of Noto in southeastern Sicily.

We were brought together by Victoria Granof who is deep in the process of creating a cookbook on Sicilian pastries. I was honored to have seen her team cook and bake. Photograph and prop. Research and explore. Write and edit. Believe me when I tell you, you will be adding this Cookbook (not yet named) to your Christmas list next year.

Traveling clockwise around the table starting at the bottom left with me are the photographer Louise and Sophie, photographer assistant. They flew in from London to be part of the cookbook team. Just lovely and hilariously funny in that understated British way. I learned so much about the art of book photography from watching them work together.

That exotic woman at the head of the table — and at the right in the picture above — is Monica, owner of the now shuttered Nickel Diner on Skid Row LA. I think of her as the Victoria whisperer. Back home, she is currently turning her attention to feeding the unhoused in her city.

Victoria is to her right. She had second thoughts about having that latumme she’d read so much about. Not sure I can blame her for passing on a sack of tuna sperm. And I don’t even want to think about how you cook it (or if you even cook it at all!!) or what you’d serve it with.

Finalmente: Luka and Ester. Goodness – I don’t even know where to start with this wonderful Italian couple. He is a marketing and art design guru and Ester is an art director and food stylist. They are, quite simply, amazing. Both proficient in several languages. They have lived in more countries than I can name: Singapore, Melbourne, Paris. E più.

Lots of memories. More to come, I’m sure of that.

Sunday in Noto. For reasons I cannot even articulate, I was having difficulty finding somewhere to go to church. I KNOW!!! For crying out loud – how hard can it be to find a Catholic mass in Italy!?

I did some recognizance Saturday night and found the Chiesa del Santissimo Crocifisso with a sign indicating Sunday mass was at 8:30am.

Come Sunday, I walked through the quiet strada and sat in the little piazza right across the street from a verrry sealed up chiesa. Every bench was filled with chattering old men (a common sight in these Italian towns).

After going back and forth between the church and the villa – the doors to the church opened and the Mass started.

When I returned, the kitchen was buzzing with photo shoots – and lunch cooking. You can bet that living with Food People is a guarantee of some fabulous moments of “let’s pore through the kitchen and the pantry and make something for lunch!”

Buon Cibo. Good Eats!

It was a full day of cooking, shooting, and great conversation. What an honor to be part of it.

His naked skin basking in the sunlight, his lithe body bent in a crouch, muscles rippling, jeans hanging just so revealing … We didn’t know his name. We thought of him as Fabio.

(Screeching sound of sudden stop).

Oh! Not that kind of delicious fantasy.

We’re talking food here — more specifically what can happen on an English language menu in foreign lands. I have oft wondered if I could make a living (albeit a very small one) fixing another country’s menus. Whether it be Eggplant Milk in Istanbul (it turned out to be some sort of creamed eggplant) or Pasta with Meet Sauce in Rome.

Which brings us to those delicious fantasies. In Sicily — during my first visit to that country — we ordered an item called “Fantasie di Carciofi“. Carciofi are artichokes. Honestly, I’m not sure why the restaurant gave this particular name to the dish. In context, it likely has meaning to the locals. However, put that phrase through babel.com and you get the appetizer called “Fantasy of Artichokes.” It was, indeed, fantastic. Artichokes three ways: marinated, breaded and sautéed, battered and deep fried.

The “Deliziosi dei Affumicati Pesci con Arancia” became “Delicious of Smoked Fish with Orange.” Yes, it was delicious.

So, too, was that hunk on the roof in the Sicilian village of Cefalù!

While staying in the lovely resort town of Taormina, on Sicily’s east coast, my travel mates and I had yet realized two of our ambitions for that particular leg of the trip — see Etna erupt and visit a quirky little bar in the hills. To get up the mountain (though the guide books suggest you walk up its curvy, vertiginous switchbacks — no sidewalks of course) — we drove. And drove. As the man behind the wheel commented, “I think those were our tail lights I just saw.” Finally, we arrive.

We were in quest of a particular bar. I’ll let my friend Victoria’s description set the scene:

…go up the hill to the tiny town of Castelmola and walk around for a spectacular view of Etna, Taormina, etc. But the real reason to go there is to have a glass of Almond Wine…at the Bar Turrisi, which is a creaky old 3-story joint decorated COMPLETELY in over 3000 penises. Seriously.

(more…)

We’re not talking Hansel & Gretel here — I mean real, true breadcrumbs. They are used unexpected ways in so many dishes in Sicilia. Well, at least in the parts of Sicily I’ve visited (admittedly few).

Loving this country! Leaving Roma, a city in which I feel comfortable, and know how and what to order. In Sicilia, it is all new customs, food, and certainly all new types of people.

If you are looking for something Siciliano-style, expect to find anchovies, pistachios, raisins, olives, capers, and, oh those breadcrumbs.

I have had crumbs dusting perfectly grilled cubes of swordfish, coating vegetables and sprinkled on pasta.

I am rushing out to meet my travel companions for the Villa Casale, but here is what we had for dinner. The waiters at Il Duomo in Taormina were kind enough to let us split the dishes up among ourselves.

Sarde a Beccafico — Sicilian style stuffed sardines. The most delicate piece of that homely fish, stuffed with I am not sure what, served with a few jagged squares of roasted potatoes and a little slice or two of roasted red peppers.

Verdure Selvatiche con Crostini di Pane — Sicilian Wild vegetables with croutons. Wild is right. It was the ugliest twist of some deep dark, stalky green with fronds I’ve seen. Scattered with chunks of delicious chewy croutons drenched in fruity olive oil. I *think* the green was wild fennel because it was licoricy and had those fronds. It was sheer ambrosia of the veggie persuasion. You just know they really did forage those greens.

Pasta e Mollica — Pasta with anchovies, olives, capers and those ubiquitous breadcrumbs. Yum. Me.

Oh, by the way, this general comment: if you think you’ve eaten caponata — think again!!!

The mosaics await, gotta run.

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Here I find myself (as in Istanbul) surrounded by new experiences that make me utter “I’ve never blanked anything like this in my life!”

Sicily: a feast for all the senses. I’ve just arrived and am still processing what is and will be in this exotic Italian, but not really Italian, country.

When I left Rome this morning, I was talking with the woman who owns the apartment in Monti where I rent “my” room. We were commiserating about the heavy thunderstorm that had drenched la bella città that morning. “Brutissimo!”‘ we agreed. “Will it rain like this in Sicily?” I asked.

“It’s Africa!” said she. As if no more need be said.

I am in the land of pistachios, mint and dried grapes.

I cannot wait.