October 4, 2015
He was tramping up and down on a twisty road in the mountains of Sicily. Across the wide valley loomed Etna, dark as a savage mystery. He clutched a pink bucket in one hand, a cane in the other. Cigar smoke curled over his head, stinking up the fresh country air.
“What’s in your basket?”
“Boletus edulis,” he says, hauling out a spongy porcini the size of a piglet.
He plans to polish it off for lunch. “In an omelette?” I ask.
“No, no. Tossed with spaghettini!”
“Is it good picking in these woods?” By now Rino and I are on a cozy first-name basis.
“No,” he scoffs, sucking his cigar like a binky. “Over there,” he says nodding at Etna, Pillar of Heaven, “it’s much better.” Though it looks close, it’s at least an hour’s drive to the base from here.
I’d like to ask if he’ll share the fungus with his family at a typical Sicilian Sunday feast, or if he’ll eat all by his lonesome. “Buon pranzo,” I say instead.
“Buon spaghettini!” he cries after me, the cigar still in his teeth.
***
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January 5, 2012
Well, Mount Etna–Pillar of Heaven, as the Greeks called her–is spewing her ash again as I write this. First blast of 2012. Clouds of smoke are visible all the way down here.
We toured around her just last week. Small puffs of smoke, like breaths on a cold day, blew from her crater into the gray-blue sky. She looked breathtakingly serene then, but there’s always more than meets the eye in Sicily.
Vulcan, god of fire, was tink-tinking away in her burning bowels.
How odd to live cheek-by-jowl with such a force of nature.
Stone homes–still inhabited–nestle against the black scabs of lava that are etched like witch’s fingers down her green shoulders. Some homes, like the one below, are just a distant memory.
 Lava fields outside Randazzo Randazzo, closest to the summit, is a dark town on the north slope built entirely of lava stone.
 Church of Santa Maria in Randazzo  Center of Randazzo In spite of the danger, Sicilians feel an intense affection for Etna, identifying deeply with her volatile nature.
The boys in Randazzo deck themselves out in black–to match their surroundings I presume–and behave just like Etna, puffing great rings of smoke into the sky.
 Scene in Randazzo Does your life lack excitement?
Here’s a house for you. It’s just under Etna, and for sale!
***
Tips for tourists: Wine tours and trekking are favorite past-times around Etna. The north face of Etna is a gorgeous place to drive around–full of vineyards, baronial manors, and mountain panoramas, but when you get to down-at-the-heels Bronte (home of the famous pistachio nut), the roads become trashy–especially shocking to see in the presence of this great natural wonder.
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February 19, 2010
I scale the scaffolding to inspect the newly-patched roof tiles. Resentment tugs at me—a feeling that my husband should be the one crawling up these monkey bars, not accident-prone me. Why is he 7,000 miles away, on terra firma, while I’m alone in this strange land? The truth is, the foolhardy idea to renovate a house in Sicily was all mine. But couldn’t he feign a little more interest?
I keep climbing. Anaïs Nin’s words run through my head: Life expands or contracts in proportion to your courage.
It’s cold up here. The house—at the summit of Ragusa Ibla— takes the full brunt of the cutting tramontana blowing south from snowy Mount Etna. The rocks at the edges of the roof are meant to keep the old terracotta tiles from flying away in the wind like a cloud of pigeons.
The finished roof, excruciatingly slow as it has been, looks gorgeous in the amber glow of late afternoon. But what do I know. Will it keep the rivers of rain outside? Will the damp house one day be a dry house?
Earlier in the day I’d rushed down in a panic from Rome because a neighbor had told me my scaffolding permit was about to expire. A denuncia against me—an official denouncement to the police—was under discussion by neighbors. None of my brushes with officialdom in Italy have been good; I’m especially nervous about being on the wrong side of the law in a country where even a bounced check can land you in the slammer.
But in true Sicilian fashion, disaster has been averted just in the nick of time. Fifteen minutes before the permit expires, my project manager tracks down a friend in the comune.
“C’e l’abbiamo fatto!” he enthuses, winking and brandishing the new papers. “We did it! It’s been extended. You’ve got to have friends in Sicily.”
Yes, you’ve got to have amici. A truism that becomes clearer to me each day. A friend of a friend—a virtual stranger—has, with astounding Sicilian generosity, donated all the materials for the next phase of the project: the plastering of leaky exterior walls.
But will the wall work drag on forever, like the roof did?
Will I give neighbors another reason to denounce me?
Will my husband ever come to Sicily? Will he ever want to see this old house?
…
xxx
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January 27, 2010
Picture endless groves so laden with blood oranges that the orbs fall with abandon, rolling around in flowering fields and bouncing onto roadways. Fiats and Ferraris roar by, mashing the ruby-red flesh to a bloody pulp.
That’s what it’s like around Catania this time of year. Etna smokes away in the distance, aloof to the carnage at her feet.
I was surprised the first time I saw what Sicilians do with their luscious blood oranges (besides squashing them on highways). They mix them up with onions and call it a salad!
This is all you need for blood orange salad: blood oranges, onions, and a good olive oil. (I found these California blood oranges at Whole Foods.)
Peel the oranges, getting rid of as much of the white pith as you can. Slice them, sprinkle with onions, a good olive oil, and course black pepper, and voilà, you’ve got the quintessential Sicilian salad.
California blood oranges can’t quite compare with the Sicilian varieties (Sanguigno, Tarocco and Moro), but they’re still pretty good. Substitute thin slices of red onion for spring onions if you prefer.
What do you think? Let me know if you try it. Do you have another favorite recipe with blood oranges?
***
Suzette Hodges has written me to share her blood orange recipe. Thanks, Suzette!
Here’s a wonderful salad using blood red oranges:
Dice up one blood red orange (large pieces); sliver 1/2 red onion (or any type onion); chop some figs (as much or little as you like); crumble goat cheese; top a plate with spring greens; add each of the ingredients atop the salad, as much or little as you like; drizzle and olive oil/mustard dressing over all. Delicious!!!
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All photos and text on BaroqueSicily are Copyright of Jann Huizenga ©2009-2015, unless otherwise noted. Material may not be copied or re-published without written permission. All rights reserved.
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