November 16, 2011
Tip your head back in Southeast Sicily, and this is what you see.
What do you see looking skyward in your neck of the woods?
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November 11, 2011 “Signora!” called out a red-faced man in baroque Scicli. “Come here!” I sauntered over, and he beckoned a young priest to his side. “Please take our picture.” I obliged. Afterwards the man said, “Do you know why I asked you to take our picture?” “No, why?” “Because,” the man beamed, his face reddening even more, “this priest, he is my son.”
November 7, 2011 Marisa Raniolo Wilkins of the blog All Things Sicilian and More has just published a huge, beautiful tome called Sicilian Seafood Cooking. Congratulations, Marisa. Complimenti!  Photo credit Bob Evans Marisa has generously allowed me to share one of her recipes with you: Swordfish with Pasta and Mint. Note that there are several alternatives for the swordfish in this recipe (see below); I substituted scallops.  Pasta with Swordfish and Mint, photo credit Graeme Gillies Ingredients ¾ cup extra virgin olive oil 400g (14oz) fish, in 4cm (1½in) pieces 500g (17½oz) rigatoni or other short ribbed, tubular pasta 3 cloves garlic, chopped ½ cup white wine 10–15 mint leaves 300g (10½oz) formaggio fresco, diced (or fresh pecorino, mozzarella or bocconcini) salt and freshly ground pepper to taste Mint is not a common herb in the rest of Italy and generally most unexpected in a pasta dish anywhere but Sicily. When I first ate a version of this in Sicily in the 1980s, it was made with pesce spada (swordfish). Since then I have cooked it many times using sustainable fish (pesce sostenibile). It’s particularly good with dense-textured fish. I use albacore tuna, mackerel, rockling or flathead. Shellfish also enhances the sweetness. Method Heat the olive oil, add the fish and lightly seal it. Cook the pasta. Add the garlic, wine, 4–5 mint leaves and seasoning to the fish. Cover and cook gently until the fish is ready. Combine the pasta, fish, cheese and mint leaves (large leaves cut into smaller pieces) and serve.
Variation *Add a few slices of zucchini lightly fried in extra virgin olive oil (cooked separately and added at the end). Add any juices from the zucchini. *Add pistachio nuts to complement the sweet taste and the green of the mint and zucchini. *** Buon appetito!! *** Click to subscribe to BaroqueSicily.
November 2, 2011 *first published Nov 2, 2009* A few years ago, I wanted to buy a ruin of a house on a solitary road out beyond the Ragusa cemetery. Sicilian friends (perfectly rational, well-educated ones) said I was matta, insane, that I’d be visited at night by dead souls. “What do you mean?” I hollered. “I live two blocks from a cemetery in the US and I’ve never seen a ghost!” They looked at me mournfully and insisted that the danger was real. They themselves would absolutely never pay me a visit there! So I gave up the idea of that house with its faded pink walls, shocked at how alive the dead are in Sicily. Sicilian cemeteries are always set well outside of town behind imposing walls. Below is the Scicli cemetery, full of mausoleums, magnificent pines and tall cypress.
Cemeteries here are well-tended, with custodians and on-site florists. They seem to be open most of the day, even during the long lunch break.
Many of the tombs show pictures of the dead.
Streets have names, just like in a real town.
Today is il Giorno dei Morti, Day of the Dead. Sicilian families flock to cemeteries—arms overflowing with lilies, mums, roses, and daisies—to spend time with their dearly departed.
October 30, 2011 Here comes the fisherman. L’America! he crows at me. Enzo has intermittent teeth and eyes to warm your heart. He’s taking his holiday here in Ragusa Ibla, 16 kilometers inland from his home.
He is staying in a convent, a retreat for anziani, old people. “Because I’m sixty,” he says. “Sixty is not old!” “In Sicily, sixty is old.” I tell him to go to America, where he’d be middle-aged. “I have relatives in New Jersey. They tell me, ‘Enzo, you should come to America!’ But I’m scared of flying. I like to be on the sea. I spend the whole day alone, fishing in my 7-meter boat. There aren’t many fish, though, because the fishermen in big boats throw their nets further out than mine, and they catch most of them.” “Yes, but in Sicily, that’s how it works. No one controls the lawless. But I love my job. I eat lunch on my boat. Raw fish. Just like the Japanese. It’s good.” He pats his stomach and smiles his quirky smile. *** |
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