May 2, 2010
“Where come from?” asks an artisan who stands puffing a cigarette in a doorway in Caltagirone. He looks like a Sicilian baron, with lush lips, an important nose, and hair shiny with pomade.
“The U.S.”
“Ah! I have cousin Stefano Battaglia, he live in New Jersey. Maybe you know?”
“No0000. It’s a very big place!”
“Take me to America!” the man says with a sudden smile. “America more beautiful than Sicilia.”
I wonder why Sicilians always respond like this when I say where I’m from. Are they hungry for a compliment or do they really believe America is a better place?
When I tell him Sicily is più bella, he frowns, like he doesn’t believe me.
I’m in Caltagirone for my ceramics fix. Some recent purchases: a fragile pot, pasta bowls, and a holy water font, all in Caltagirone’s colors of citrus yellow, Ionian blue, and basil green.
Little mom and pop shops brimming with tiles and jugs and mugs line the famous stairway. The quality varies, and you have to bargain. Some of the best artists are represented in the Palazzoceramico, on your right after you’ve gone up a handful of steps. There’s a museum and a cute coffee shop inside, too.
Or you can fuel up on espresso on the main piazza, Piazza del Municipio. Go up the staircase into the big building with the three arches, and you’ll bump into this cafe.
Crane your head upwards and a huge, tangled battle scene with the Moors will come into view.
Caltagirone is one of the eight baroque World Heritage Sites in southeast Sicily. It has lush churches, a superb ceramics museum and pretty gardens. Restaurants are few and far between, but I can recommend la Piazzetta for its good quality and prices (try the cool semifreddo with warm chocolate sauce for dessert). Shops close between 1pm and 4pm (of course), but most are open on Sunday.
One more thing: Don’t forget to strike up a conversation with the charming pensioners standing in clumps all over town.
Have you been? Do you have other recommendations?
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 You can win this cookbook!
Toni Lydecker’s Seafood alla Siciliana is somewhat smaller than coffee-table size, with thick, glossy paper, wonderful recipes, very pretty photos, and stories about Sicily’s cuisine. All you have to do is leave a comment on any of my blog posts between now and May 9, and I’ll enter your name for a random drawing on May 10, 2010. (You can enter one comment a day, max.) The only hitch is that you must provide a US or Canadian address for the shipping, so my apologies to readers on other continents.
April 15, 2010
It’s that time of year again. The ripe time. The jasmine is sweet; cows low in verdant pastures; a soft breeze blows from Africa.
It’s time for Sicilians to begin doing what they most love doing: eating gelato.
Sicilians claim to have invented ice cream by mixing citrus syrups with the snow of Mount Etna. According to Mary Taylor Simeti, though, the reality is more complicated.
The place to go for ice cream in Southeast Sicily—besides the wonderful Caffè Sicilia in Noto—is Gelati Divini in Ragusa Ibla. You won’t find any icky Baskin Robbin’s flavors (no Cotton Candy, Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, Oreo Cookies ‘n Cream). These are Old World gelati for grown-ups: Rose Petal, Cream of Marsala, Jasmine, Honey of a Thousand Flowers, Fennel, Persimmon, Moscato d’Asti, Nero d’Avola. Rosaria, the charming proprietess, will always let you sample before you order.
 Gelati Divini Sicilian gelato has much less fat than American ice cream, so indulging is not really a sin.
 Chocolate and Vino Cotto (Cooked Wine) Taylor Simeti also recommends the Gelateria Cappadonia in tiny Cerda as the best gelateria in western Sicily. (Cerda is about an hour’s drive east of Palermo). In season, they make an artichoke gelato! Do you have a favorite gelateria in Sicily? Or maybe a great Sicilian gelato recipe? Please share!
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April 8, 2010
The men in my town are good at sitting around.
I like this; it makes the streets feel homey.
Retired guys gather at circoli, men’s clubs, like the above circolo for operai (workers) in Ragusa Ibla.
The Circolo di Conversazione for noblemen is on Piazza Duomo. Note the heavy brocade drapes and the fact that the aristocrats lounge on wooden chairs instead of plastic ones. Inside swing old cut-glass chandeliers.
The Circolo di Conversazione is across the street from the fishermen’s club. Someone told me the two groups never mingle or even exchange a buon giorno, but I’m not sure if that’s true.
Tourist tip for women in Sicily: don’t let the fixed stares of sitting-around Sicilian elders put you off. They’re curious, bored, sweet as pie. I started a conversation with these members of Circolo San Giorgio—yet another club in Ragusa Ibla—and the men responded with Old World courtesy, eager to use their schoolboy English to discuss New Jersey cousins, American politics, and World War II, when the Allies charged through the area during Operation Husky. They even invited me inside!
I wonder what the wives are doing while the husbands are sitting around.
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March 7, 2010
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Run, don’t walk, amici, as fast as your little legs can carry you, to Caffè Sicilia. It’s in the magical town of Noto in southeast Sicily, home to Captain Mimo.
Caffè Sicilia is a humble place, old-fashioned and perfect. (Please, dear owners, resist the urge to Tuscanize.) It’s basically a sweet shop, blooming with cakes and puddings and ices.
Live with abandon. One, two, three cakes—who’s counting?
Marian Burros, in a 2005 New York Times article, called Caffè Sicilia’s Corrado Assenza a “mad genius” and the “most daring experimenter with the strong sweet and savory elements in Sicilian cooking.” His ingredients are—among other things—bergamot, basil, saffron, fennel, honey, orange, jasmine, wild berries, citron, all of which he harmonizes in ways that delight and surprise.
We were a group of four. Among us, we’d ordered twelve cakes. After cramming our mouths, we sat back stunned and red-faced.
The next thing we know our server, a woman with a thick braid snakimg down her back like an old honeysuckle vine, trots out with a tray bearing 16 spoonfuls of marmalade.
“Guess the ingredients,” she says, “and you win a gelato.”
We lick the pure dabs of goodness from each spoon, carrying on a hot debate. Bergamot? Citron-tobacco? Pistachio -fennel? Turns out we all fail miserably at this game. But we’re rewarded with ice cream anyway, “for playing with passion.”
After an experience like this, Sicily will take hold of you and never let you go.
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February 5, 2010
I don’t claim to be the world’s best driver. Not by a long shot.
But I never had actual accidents till I started driving in Sicily.
Look at this. It’s the center of Ragusa Ibla. Could you squeeze through these streets?
I feel little stabs of fear bumping over the S-shaped lanes of Sicilian hill towns.
I’ve torn off a side-view mirror or two. A bumper or two. Never hit anybody, though.
You can’t blame me. There was this one time when a wall came out of nowhere and hit me. Then there was the time a mirror jutting out from a parked Fiat struck my car.
 This guy has the right idea. Drive a motorcycle in Sicilian hill towns. It’s really the only vehicle that fits.
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Here I am–a straniera of a certain age–trying on a little Vespa for size. What do you think? Should I? Could I? Darest I?
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Tourist tip: Get full collision coverage when driving in Sicily. But don’t let the idea of driving on the island worry you unnecessarily: it’s an absolute joy to drive on the open road in Sicily. By the way, Kemwel is the cheapest car rental consolidator I’ve found for Sicily. They’re professional and fast about following up on accidents and suchlike. Ask for your AAA, ARP, whatever discount AFTER they quote a price.(Just please don’t mention me or this post if you contact them! Yikes. They’ll never let me rent again. )
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