The Greek philosopher Plato
said, Sicilians build things like they will live forever and eat
like they will die tomorrow.
400 BC. Just
think how long my family has been thinking about food. Yes, about
that long.
But
let's consider this quotation. Isn't it kind of the opposite of what
our society has been about, for several decades anyway. Buildings
that go up and down, roads, unlike the deep stone Roman roads that
still abide, that buckle and pit, and are constantly being dug up and
blocked and under construction. Whole neighborhoods torn down and
wiped away for industrial parks and parking lots. And then the fast
food, the processed food, the a million ingredients and
maybe a few of them actual identifiable food,
food.
And
yeah, Italy has McDonald’s, and it seems some people even go to
them, and Italy has Burger King, not sure about that one, but we did
see one in Rome, so someone
must eat
there. But the markets and
the traditional restaurants are full of, and limited to, fresh local
produce and product. And
often, the beautiful home cooking of mamas.
As I
write this, I am simmering cream peas from East Texas, that we got
last week at a family peach orchard, with rosemary and oregano I
snipped from my front yard. Yellow summer squash, again
from that orchard, has been
cut up
and will be sauteed with some garlic, and maybe cumin, haven't
decided yet.
Lest you think I am writing
this to be self-righteous about what I eat, let me tell you that is
not the case, but is, perhaps, a goal. As I was out today on errands,
to Michaels and Hobby Lobby to scour and browse art supplies (so
maybe indulgent journey as much as errand), I was very tempted to
stop at the Taco Bueno for a Dr Pepper, and a little something to
tide me over for the afternoon. Didn't today, have many other times.
Still, I like to eat fresh seasonal food, and in Italy, you have
almost no other choice.
My
restaurant of choice for my
birthday dinner was Ai
Normanni. I guess I was
attracted to it for both its name (the
Norman mosaics, Norman cathedrals, ignited my imagination for years
before I actually experienced Sicily), for the reviews I had read and
for the menu, and the
way the website related in detail about the kitchen and the cook.
Our
walk through the cathedral piazza and a corner of the park led us to
a pretty arch and entry way. A few cats also waited, wanting to
taste the wares. Alas, we were asked if we had a reservation (we
didn't) and were turned away. Mid-week, not yet the tourist season, we thought we would be okay.
So we nodded and said, Okay, Grazie.
I thought about pleading, something like, But it's my birthday and our first night ever in Sicily. But I kept my whining to myself.
The cats may have also been disappointed.
Our
dinner, back through the square and into the beginning of the maze of
streets toward our apartment,
happened in the lovely small ristorante, La
Galleria, that
we had passed earlier. Clean and clear, open to the narrow street,
where a few wooden tables with sunflowers, set unoccupied.
We were seated inside. I have to say that one important part of eating in Italy for me is the joy
of dining outside, on a narrow sidewalk, or a lush and green patio
or terazza.
This is what I envision when I plan a trip to Italy, and what I love
here in Texas, when the temperature is
agreeable. But the pair
of double doors were open and
the view in the narrow restaurant through arched windows gave a feeling that we were all a
bit on the street.
Evidently,
macca means a soup, a
blended up bowl of beans and vegetables. Macca di fava was our
first course, topped with a dollop of soft cheese, like a fresh ricotta. We shared it,
and it was lovely.
As
I look back on the ticket, il conto,
I remember that that night I learned, or began to learn, that one of
the first things I thought I knew how
to say in Italian, was how to
ask for a glass of wine, Un bicchiere
di vino, per favore, might not be the right
phrase here. All through
Sicily,
the word bicchieri,
glass, wine glass,
was replaced by calice,
on most of
the menus. Already, we knew,
as we sat in more casual
cafes and the family places
to eat, during previous trips to Italy, that the cups of fresh and local wine
were not served in the
stemmed glasses that we, as Americans, would expect. But
usually in something like a squat
juice glass. It seemed this
glass, in Sicilia, had
a
name.
That
word, calice. Is it
not like a chalice? The
wine, a libation.
After the soup, we had two shared entrees, or more correctly shared primo and secondo. The first is, of course, the pasta. Noodles, like lasagna, but narrower and thicker, more toothsome, with cauliflower. Cavolfiori, the Italian word which contains the meaning of the English: Fiori is “flowers”. The cauliflower meltingly cooked into the dish, the pasta topped with toasted breadcrumbs.
I
have been a vegetarian for 20 years, and made forays into that way of
eating many times, many years before. But I do eat fish and seafood,
so a pescatarian I guess, primarily when we go out and fish dishes
are the only enticing options on the menu. (Yes, the flesh is weak.)
I
remember a trip to Italy, 15 or 16 years ago now, mainly in
Tuscany...the land locked part... when finally my dear friend, a
longtime vegetarian/pescatarian (who is now vegan) said she really
needed to find some fish. She craved the protein. I recall ending up
in a very small place on a side street, sharing a salad, a pallid
salad (sorry!), with what I believe was canned tuna. This had to have
been just for tourists. Would an Italian go to a restaurant and eat
that? Pienza is 47 miles from the sea, a drive of a little over an hour and a half, the route dipping south to go through Grosseto, and so even though Italy is a long narrow strip of land surrounded by three seas, that distance means seafood is not local enough to get a place on the menu.
Well,
Sicily is an island; almost everywhere we went was a coastal town.
Fish and seafood dominate the
menu. Our secondo
was a perfectly (yes, believe me, I do mean perfectly)
seared tuna with peppercorns, a light, unobtrusive sauce accompanied
by a fresh medley of cherry,
or grape, tomatoes, that perfectly, again
that word, complemented the
fish. (I believe we had a
choice of 3 vegetable sides, this is unusual in Italy, where a
contorno is usually
ordered separate from the main dish, not included.) The light and
fresh tomatoes were, okay, here I am kissing my fingertips, then
spreading them out from my mouth...a typical Italian gesture...sorry,
you'd have to see it...to indicate the greatness, deliciousness
of these things together on our plate.
Birthday
or not, dessert was unthinkable.
After
dinner, we walked across the city to a small jazz club. It was late,
but what was time to us? We were freed up from our “at home” too late to go out thinking we sometimes fall into.
We wove our way in, to find a little table in a corner by the
band....it wasn't that different from a very small music club here,
in
Dallas or Fort Worth. We sat,
perused the menu of drinks, listened to the band (I had craved sax,
might have pouted a little), enjoyed the music and sipped our
libations. Mine had a very
tiny rose bud floating on the top. A
birthday gift, I said, as my sweetie, when we are at home, always
brings me roses on my birthday.
When
the main band was done, and no other was listed, we prepared to
finish up and leave. What time was it then, what time was it in Texas
and in our bodies? No idea, but we were now very tired. Then a manager or owner
of the club came up, a couple of others stepped on the stage. There
was a sax, a piano, drums delicately plied. Beautiful instrumental jazz ensued. We
stayed and enjoyed. It was lovely. Here is a little snippet:
On our meandering walk home through the dark streets, we happened upon I Quattro Canti, formally named the Piazza Vigliena, a Baroque square built in the early 1600s.
Wikipedia says:
The piazza is octagonal, four sides being the streets; the remaining four sides are Baroque buildings, the near-identical facades of which contain fountains with statues of the four seasons, the four Spanish kings of Sicily, and of the patronesses of Palermo, (Christina, Ninfa, Olivia and Agata). The facades onto the interchange are curved, and rise to four floors; the fountains rise to the height of the second floor, the third and fourth floors contain the statues in niches. At the time the piazza was built, it was one of the first major examples of town planning in Europe.
On our meandering walk home through the dark streets, we happened upon I Quattro Canti, formally named the Piazza Vigliena, a Baroque square built in the early 1600s.
Wikipedia says:
The piazza is octagonal, four sides being the streets; the remaining four sides are Baroque buildings, the near-identical facades of which contain fountains with statues of the four seasons, the four Spanish kings of Sicily, and of the patronesses of Palermo, (Christina, Ninfa, Olivia and Agata). The facades onto the interchange are curved, and rise to four floors; the fountains rise to the height of the second floor, the third and fourth floors contain the statues in niches. At the time the piazza was built, it was one of the first major examples of town planning in Europe.
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| Spring personified, Piazza Vigliena, Palermo |
