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November 25, 2011 Good enough to eat?
**** Congratulations to Vicki for winning the random drawing for the deer! She’s going to give it to her 94-year-old mom. (Vicki is hoping to take her mom to Sicily for her 95th birthday. These women inspire me!) Thanks for playing, everyone. Stay tuned for the next contest.
November 22, 2012 Here are a few of my favorite things in Sicily, and what I’m thankful for.
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November 18, 2012 It’s olive oil season in Sicily! A few years ago Giuseppe Rosso, an award-winning producer, taught me the proper way to sample oil.  Giuseppe Rosso stands in his ancient olive grove in Chiaramonte Gulfi We were at Villa Zottopera, his family’s 18th-century masseria in southern Sicily.  The entrance to Villa Zottopera  Villa Zottopera is an agriturismo–B&B!!! The old estate in Chiaramonte Gulfi has thousands of twisted trees. He handed me a tiny cupful of green liquid flecked with gold. “Hold it tightly in your hands, and do like this.” Rosso, a non-stop talker with a twinkle in his eye, rubbed the bottom of the glass back and forth against the palm of his hand, as if preparing a magic potion. “The oil must be at body temperature. Now sniff it deeply, toss it behind your bottom lip, and watch me.” He drained his glass, then made like a human vacuum cleaner, sucking the oil back through his bottom teeth with a big whoosh. I followed suit. “Now wait.” He went silent for a moment to let me concentrate. The oil had a bracing effect, tingling my tongue before trickling down the throat in a fruity-pungent sizzle. I half-coughed. “What do you taste?” Rosso quizzed. “Tell me what you taste.” “Pepper. Sunshine. Grass. . . . Nature!” My answer was much too generic for him. Did I taste the profumo of almonds, the piccante of tomato leaves?? Uh, no. But I knew delizioso when I tasted it. Ogghiu comuni sana ogni duluri, Sicilians say. Plain oil heals every pain. ***** For more information about Villa Zottopera, please visit me/BaroqueSicily on Facebook. November 12, 2012 This is the honeyed spot where my heart comes alive. I love it in my cells & my bones. It’s here I drink my black wine, salute my fellow villagers, buy my daily bread, recharge my phone & my soul.
x I cannot be there now. Family duty calls… But when I close my eyes, I’m right here. Do you have a sacred space? A place you love beyond all others? To paraphrase Raymond Carver, are you getting what you want from this life? If not, set it all in motion now. Find that place where your heart comes alive: library nook, cafe window, mountain trail, room of your own. *** November 5, 2012 I’ve done a lot of traipsing around the streets of my adopted homeland, snapping away, straggling up and down steps, trying to capture street life in hilly baroque hamlets. Sicilians seem to think the only folks who should be in front of a camera are brides, kids, and fashion models. “Me?” they’ll invariably chortle when I ask if I can photograph them. “You wanna shoot me?” Then they laugh or shrug with a dramatic “why not” gesture. Sometimes they warn that their face will break my camera. Ha ha! A lot of people tell this joke, in fact. Younger folks shout to their friends: “Fay-sa-boook! Fay-sa-boook! She’s going to put me on Fay-sa-boook!
The result of all this tramping and trudging is my new book Sicilians in Baroque Towns. There’s a paper version and an e-book version for the iPad. If you feel so inclined, I’d loooooove your comment on the Blurb page or here. Mille grazie! |
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