Sicily

#7 – Oops! Back to Sicily – The Post About Dining!

M and I are on a long holiday to see how much we can eat! … I mean to celebrate his retirement. We’re in the boot of Italy but so much bread, olives, pasta, sausage, calamari, pizza and gelato has gone to my head and I’ve left out this post penned in Sicily.

Back on Sicily we left the Baroque city of Noto, and traveled toward Catalina pausing in Syracuse, the birthplace of Archimedes and home of Pythagoras and Plato, to walk the seawall above the Ionian Sea  and lunch at an outdoor cafe. Beside us a chic and thin Sicilian couple ordered a big plate of crispy  calamari, just as we did. Full of the fat rings of fried squid, we were ready to pay and continue exploring but noted that the Sicilians were  now indulging in big plates of tomatoe and olive covered rigatoni, and you bet they’d finish with gelato and/or cannoli. Observing so many Sicilians dine that excessively I was desperate to know the secret of binging like the bourgeoisie and still mirroring skinny models. Behind us an American told his server the portion was too large to finish. The waiter declared rather emphatically, “This is Sicily. We only have big portions. Enjoy it.”

When M and I weren’t discussing how locals packed away so much fine Italian grub and remained fit, we were back to being blown away by their driving. They flew past us on rough stone roads, with garden walls boxing us in, maneuvering the blind corners with moterbikes overtaking us all. M exclaimed and I gasped and gripped the door handle, convinced the Sicilian drivers had some sixth sense combined with a strong faith in the afterlife. 

Drivers and diners aside,  what I’d like to bottle and bring home is the the delightful transcendent scent that filled the air when we arrived at the country inn we were booked into, situated in an orchard of lemon and orange trees. The afternoon that we’d heard there was a spring snow storm back home in Canada M and I competed for the best lemon tree photograph. I got into bed that night intoxicated not by wine or eperol, but that sweet aroma of lemon blossoms.

#4 Take the Cannoli

My husband, a guy not always crazy about organized tours suggested one dull winter day, as we planned our month long Italian adventure, “Oh go ahead, book us a few tours.” Prego. I picked one I’d love. And one he’d love. Mine was for our second day in Palermo, Sicily  and was fantástico! Discover Sicily has been an exotic, sometimes scary adventure. It has a rich history marked by centuries of conquest and influence from Greeks, Romans, Arabs, Normans. Our tour was called Ten Tastings of Palermo and went beyond our expectations in culinary delights!

Mercato di Ballaro

The aromas! Oh the tantalizing aroma’s! And the vivid colours! Michelangelo, our guide with a company called WithLocals, was too good to be true. It sounds corny but it was as if we’d met an old friend – an Italian history foodie-type old friend – our kid’s age,  but stay with me! 

   He described Palermo as being layered like a lasagna. It’s Sicilian cuisine has been influenced by Arab countries, the French, Spain, Greece, and North Africa and to explore this Michelangelo took us to the historic Mercato di Ballarò. Located in the Albergheria district.

Our first delight was a piece of fluffy Arabian style salted bread hot off the grill. Our taste buds were awakened. From their we let him deliver us through milling customers to a booths selling tuna crouquettes, and lightly battered asparagus, mushroom, and artichoke where described the artichokes as as being as big as a baby’s head. Michelangelo then insisted we’d never tasted egg plant parmigiana if we had eaten it in Sicily. So true – it was an alluring mouthwatering mix of the ‘aubergene’, tomato sauce and gooey cheese.

Sicilian Artichokes

From there we stepped through a bottleneck of people, to an open area with American music blasting, and all ages of folks dancing and laughing in a square crowed with food booths, and plastic tables and chairs. Michelangelo called out an order to a  woman behind another grill and soon presented us with our last plate of hot delights.

Since our arrival in Palermo we’d noticed people everywhere, seriously everywhere – sipping on bright orange drinks, resembling orange Fanta – but not. It’s an apéritif known as an Aperol Spritz, a mix of Aperol, prosecco, and soda water. On that sunny afternoon we discovered its refreshing appeal to accompany our thinly battered, crispy fried sardines and the best ever lightly spiced potato croquettes. 

With our bellies bursting Michelangelo suggested we stroll to a wide seaside boulevard when we walked amongst local parents and grandparents pushing little bambino’s in fancy Italian strollers, kids on scooters, cruise ship passengers, and dog walkers of decidedly Italian dogs. 

In the afternoon sunshine, we were treated to creamy Sicilian gelato and the popular cannoli. Prego.

The tour I booked with M’s heart in mind won’t be for a few days, but here’s a hint – ‘leave the guns take the cannoli.’ Ciao for now.

# 3 Three Coins In The Fountain

 Third day in Rome, but on this day we have a concrete plan. Prego! (We’ve learned that  ‘Prego’ – is a word for – well, everything – You’re welcome. Please. Go ahead. Prego. Prego Prego.) 

So finally we were setting out with a set of destinations. It’s a jubilee year in Rome, something that the Pope declares every 25 years and Catholics from around the world make pilgrimages to Rome, filling the streets with tourists, as well as groups of travelling nuns and priests. 

Traveling nuns in Rome’s airport

In a day ripe with sunshine we grab an Uber through the city to stand before the iconic Spanish Steps. The Spanish Steps are a grand staircase connecting Piazza di Spagna to the Trinità dei Monti church, and the 1953 film “Roman Holiday,” starring Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck, made them famous as a romantic backdrop. M and I take a zillion photos but don’t traverse the steps. Some trivia: there are 135 steps, dedicated to the Holy Trinity, represented  by three tiers, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. 

Iconic Spanish Steps

From there we wander amongst the high end shops, stopping for a glass of vino to watch the folks stroll by, then with dreams of tossing a coin in the fountain a la Audrey Hepburn, we head off to the Fontana di Trevi. The younger crowd will know the song as the one Steve Martin, not John Candy, sings in the movie Trains, Planes and Automobiles – “Three coins in the fountain,

Each one seeking happiness

Thrown by three hopeful lovers

Which one will the fountain bless”

It’s so Jubilee-busy that there is a controlled line a block long to get anywhere close enough to toss a coin. Now, if we had tossed our three coins what would be our reward? One coin ensures a trip back to Rome, two coins and we will find love, and three coins guarantees we’d marry the person we found love with in Italy. Thank goodness we have each other because M and I settle for a selfie of us grinning before the crowd, the swirling fountain water behind us.

No coins in the fountain

Our next patio stop is for an Italian beer, and a cappuccino, ignoring ChatGPT telling me Italians never drink milk in their coffee after 11 am. Finally, we traverse the cobblestones, again following the mix of worldwide tourists to the colosseum. We face it, where it rises above the crowd, the world’s largest amphitheatre, almost 2000 years old. Perhaps, it’s the jet lag coming back, but honestly I sit in awe even of the marble bench we rest on  that feels worn so smooth I imagine Romans who have sat right there, through the centuries. A busker begins to play something classical on his violin  – ah Prego!

2000 years old

Another wonderful day traversing Rome. Tomorrow it’s off to discover Sicily, another world entirely. First stop Palermo – remember, “In Sicily, women are more dangerous than shotguns.” (The Godfather).