If
I can make it rhyme - it's a perfect paradigm! (Am I on fire or what?
:P)
The
holidays in Sicily were indeed paradigmatic. I saw how Sicilian life
works (or actually how it doesn't work), I learnt how delicious pasta can
be, I realised that Italian 'mamma-mia!' gesturing is half a message, and
I noticed that mirrors in a bedroom where you sleep are very useful (actually pistacchietto was the one who did notice). And I loved everything... But I
might have as well been blinded by a shapely bottom of my
professional guide, by his magnetic eyes, and by his lasagna... who
knows? Once again, I am subjective, but who's to say that it is
bad?
If
anyone knows of any reason why me and my fascination of Italian
culture/food/language/habits/kisses should not be joined in marriage,
speak now or forever hold your peace!
(...hours
of lengthy and heavy silence...)
So
I though! :P
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| Italian feast! |
Allora,
as any traveller I was afraid of what is awaiting out there. Are all
the stereotypes true? Is sicilianismo a
real thing? In
other words, will I be surrounded by men speaking with a heavy,
gutteral accent, using arcane gestures, wearing lots of gold and
attempting to impress others of their sexist importance? That would
leave me with nothing but act like a giuseppina.
(Over
my dead body!!). Does Sicilian Mafia rule the roads? Do women
have moustaches? Do they really eat spaghetti bolognese
every fucking single day? :O
Thank
Heaven! None of those took place (or maybe I was well-protected...?).
Instead of worrying about pasta overdose, I concentrated on the
places we visited, sun (and rain) we enjoyed and of course...
must-try food which we willingly tasted but which, at times, I was
forced to eat: "You will put on weight, anyway!"
Vafanapoli!
Follow
me in time on my weight gain journey along a serpentine route from
one side of the table to the other which took me one week... And
enjoy the ride! :)
For
the start - pasta :D C'mon! Stop laughing... I was integrated into
the community delicate step by delicate step with something I know
more or less (cause basically, with pasta you NEVER know!!). Let
me take a second to bow in words to Italians and once again
express my admiration to their magic cooking moves. Uno, due, tre...
Pasta... Fiesta... Siesta! ;) In a few simple (?) moves they can make
a delicious meal. Innate talent or food enhancers? As far as I have
been shown so far they are strong opponents of any crap food, preservatives etc. and I
was told off on every single occasion to cut down on my
beloved junk food. Piatti di stronzate! ;)
But
even pasta can surprise you a lot! You think ''farfalle, spaghetti,
tagliatelle, gnochi, bla bla bla... ble bli blu... pa pi ri pupi...
the same old gangsta rap!'' Mind you, they have so many kinds of
pasta that you can literally go crazy! Obligatory, with grated parmesan.
I
personally fell in love with the strangled priests (literally
translated from the name strozza
preti)
- an elongated form of hand-rolled pasta. I mistakenly took the dish
for haricots :O (''so we are eating mere veggies for the dinner?
:(''). And then I tasted the first forkful. Never have expected
that a priest can give me such awesome oral sensations! ;) I was also
taken aback by the fact it needs to be refrigerated... Cool priests? I could expect that :p
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| Never enough colours. La vita è bella ;) |
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| Strozza pretti <3 td=""> |
Ok,
time to exercise the brains! What lies next to pasta?
Lady
Lasagna! Slim and elegant - just as elegant as the dish we had and as
slim as I wished to be again after gobbling more then anyone could
believe. Mummy! I was eating as much as you have always prayed for!
:)
Made
according to Italian mum's recipe (grazie!), cooked with
passion, eaten with heart and vino di terra siciliana. Buono e
bellissimo!! :) My role was a kitchen porter only, but I may assure you
that it wasn't as easy and quick as regular pasta, yet extremely
enjoyable! Honestly... I didn't shed a single tear while slicing the onions.
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| Lasagna in the making |
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| Bravo cuoco! |
Not
far from pasta we will find pizza. Not much to shock with here. I didn't manage
to get any secret recipes and know about it almost as little as I had known before. The
only are-you-serious? novelty was the fact that a real pizza should
have all the toppings cooked at their own time, added on top one by one... or something to that effect (I've just realised this will
be read by an Italian :* so I cannot sell you any bullshit :P).
The pizza we had at the restaurant must have been made by a genuine Italian, as it took 'spaghetti' ages to get it (at some time you could literally think the
cook went to some remote forest to pick up the mushrooms for
Funghi... alternatively, he waited for the hen to lay the eggs
for our Capricciosa -much appreciated!).
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| Four Italian pizzas = seven wide smiles |
Not
far from pizza, we will find bread. No, we didn't bake bread... I was
only shown a simple McGyver move how to make it garlic - something
I'm going to smuggle with me to the UK. Again, no crap allowed on the table, no garlic
sauces, no Sainsbury's garlic baguettes ready to be microwaved. Let's
take from the nature. Garlic! Niente di più! Peel it. Cut off
the tip. Grate against a slice of bread. Tutto è musica! ;)
Do
I seem too excited? If it's time to cool down, it's just about time
to bring on ice cream. Well, Italy is famous for (or should I say
notorious? Those are calorific bombs they produce!) and proud of
gelato. Must say, once you are aware you are eating home-made goodies
(again, probably with as little preservatives and junk as possible) it doesn't
feel this much of a sin. Unfortunately, they give you such a vast choice that only an idiot would go for strawberry or mango flavour.
Kinder Country, Nutella, Ciocco... And don't be mistaken thinking
three huge scoops will not fit into a small cone - ice
cream ladies (bless them!) are perfectly skilled to squeeze any amount of gelato you wish for.
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| Gelati! Pure art, isn't it? |
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| Crabs from gelato before climbing Aci Castello |
With
ice cream goes slightly less evil (or so I cheated myself after having it
for breakfast), and still lovely granita - a
semi-frozen dessert similar to sorbet. I supposed it is usually
served with brioche
- a
kind of puffed pastry. I suppose... as I was in the toilet
(never-ending pressure on the bladder) while my personal guide took
care of the order. Wouldn't be surprised - though - if he actually ordered the
pastry extra (to keep up with the Joneses, who apparently must be
fat).
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| Breakfast is here! |
This
is how we entered a dangerous and pernicious area of sweets. Obviously, I had to
try literally everything. Firstly, due to my curiosity; secondly,
because I was forced to (I hate you :P) and fed like a fowl which is
soon to drown in broth; and thirdly, just because (I was on holidays, for
crying out loud). Whatever you feel like... Cream-filled pastry? Go
for Cannoli
Siciliani (deep
fried pastry shell filled with sweet ricotta cheese, candied
orange/lemon peel and chocolate chips, dusted with icing sugar :O
Definitely, can cause more harm than the mafia). Something with alcohol?
Babbá or Rum Baba! (smells a bit of Poland, doesn't it? I'm happy to see that
Italian-Polish union hits it off on all levels). Want something that crumbles in mouth?
Biscotti Siciliani: biscotti con noci, biscotti con pistacchio, biscotti con
limone. Fancy a sweet that goes with Chianti? Paste di Mandorla. And since I felt
like everything, I ate everything and since dolci are often
accompanied by espresso, I drunk a lot of coffee, and since at some
places they served espresso with sweets, I ate even more sweets than
originally planned ;)
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| Tray from Heaven |
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| Cannoli |
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| Not that scary Babbá |
Let's
leave it as we have touched upon a better topic. Wines! :) I aimed at trying
wines from the region (why should I go for Australian Chardonnay,
which I have at fingertips back home) - I consider myself a real traveller who
needs to dive into the culture. How possibly could I understand
Italians without tasting Chianti, Nero D'Avola, or Grillo? (I'm the
one who will always find an excuse for any sin she commits). Believe
me, after a few glasses I could not only understand the culture, but I could understand the language of comunques, dungues, quindis and giustos
;) I picked up some wide gestures as well ;)
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| One of our friends. Came from Palermo! Yeap, as if you knew a shit about the distance they covered :P |
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| Pellegrino (liqueur wine) visited by a tasty Italian cheese |
Wine
is my old friend, though, and we can bear with each other entire
evenings (as officially stated a few days ago - a bottle of
wine is not enough for us). I met a real killer at the altitude of
1986 metres above sea level. Fuoco dell'Etna by the Crater
Silvestri. 50% from a plastic cup - almost like in good old days of
high school, drinking on a bench in a park. This time, however,
I didn't sleep on anyone's lap and didn't kiss strangers (stop
talking, Nata!). As a liqueurs fan, I swear it must work
gorgeously with an orange juice.
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| Red and Hot |
Italians
do lunch a lot! Pranzi were at times - secondo me - heavier than dinners.
Imagine a rice ball with bolognese sauce and cheese coated in crumbs
and deep, deep fried. Oily fingers speak for themselves. It
looked very innocent, though. Sneaky Arancino ;) Of course, I liked it, but
at the very moment I ate the last bit (this one was definitely not
for the beauty!) I officially had to shout a dreadful 'hello' to my
upcoming extra kilograms.
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| Arancino |
Last
but not least, fish and sea food. All in all, Sicily is an island with water sea water on every side. Well, we have fish everywhere, but
not everywhere can you have salmon and herbs-stuffed Orata (English gilt-head
bream :O Wtf?) roasted in the fireplace, prepared with a lot of laugh
and warmth not only by the fire :) Oh, and believe it or not, but I
was able to eat one whole king prawn - as I reckon - because it was
peeled beforehand. If I can eat prawns, I can do anything! ;) We are
good to go, then, the miracle-maker!
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| Kings on the table |
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| Isn't Orata charming? |
I will allow myself to devote the last line to individual muaking! for gorgeous holidays, guiding, cooking, showing, bearing, feeding etc. and official baccioni for hosting two of us in a lovely house with high ceilings and 8 to 10 (who knows?) scary cats. I'm officialy stating - Sicily can be loved!
