Tasty travels in Sicily

"Room service!" I creaked open the door to my 13th century monastery room to see my dad standing there holding a steaming espresso.
"You have two choices for breakfast," he said. "One, the healthier option -cookies. Two, the more fattening choice - a cornetto, a pastry filled with custard and sprinkled with icing sugar."
Seeing as it was my first morning in Sicily, I opted for the traditional cornetto.
Carrying my breakfast in one hand, I opened the doors leading out into the courtyard with the other. Rays of late morning sun shone through the branches of the heavily laden lemon trees as birds chirped and church bells of at least five different varieties chimed in the distance . Memories of the never ending voyage of thirty five hours from South Africa faded away as I sipped my espresso and let the warm Sicilian sun slowly wake me up.

Cornetto and espresso for breakfast

"Sicily is the land of flavors," announced Pippo in a Sicilian dialect I found hard to follow. He settled back into his chair and waved his hand in a generic gesture.. "Everything tastes different here - better."

I smiled, watching this old Sicilian fisherman take a sip of his crodino, silently agreeing with himself.

We had been invited for lunch up in the hills outside Catania by a Sicilian family on this sunny winter's day.

I turned to gaze out the window where snow-topped Mt. Etna quietly puffed away and the ocean peeked out between the hills to the right of it.

Mt. Etna

"A tavola!" called Daniela , our host as she scraped the heavy wooden chairs out from the dining room table.
Pipo had been up before sunrise that morning catching squid and Cefalo for our lunch. The Sicilian squid, a little shorter and fatter than regular squid had had their ink sacks removed and Daniela had made a black sauce of ink, tomato puree and onions. This was tossed with spaghetti and sprinkled liberally with fresh Sicilian pecorino cheese.

Pippo with the plate of squid and a regular pasta and sauce

Spaghetti with squid ink sauce

After the first very careful mouthful, I wiped my mouth on the white paper napkin leaving a large black ink stain behind. I glanced up at my dad, who's haphazard twirling of the pasta had left a splatter of black dots on the tablecloth around his plate. He smiled at me guiltily revealing black stained teeth. I couldn't hold my laughter as I turned to see my mom in the same predicament. "It's alright," said Lucia, the grandmother of the house, "we have water." She took a sip, swirled it around her mouth, and smiled a slightly less stained grin. Everyone erupted in laughter.
The squid itself was beautifully tender and the oven grilled fish so fresh you could taste the ocean it was swimming in eight hours earlier. A fresh salad of lettuce and fennel and a spinach frittata provided the green part of the meal.
Cusumano's Angimbe Sicilian red wine was the drink of choice. A blend of Insolia and Chardonnay varietals. "We have the best wine in the world," said Pippo, again singing the praises of his beloved Sicily. It had an interesting cloudiness and a taste bordering on a fortified wine. Different for sure I must admit, the best - not so sure.
As is typical with any Italian meal, a bowl of fruit was brought to the table after the main course. I chose a big, juicy looking blood orange.
Sicily is the only place where these oranges grow. They contain a red pigment in their cells caused by the minerals in the volcanic soil around the base of Mt. Etna and the extreme change in temperatures. Of course, Pippo was the one with this important information.
The smell of coffee wafted in from the kitchen, where I could hear the grinder grinding away. Ten minutes later a perfect espresso was placed in front of me which I sipped appreciatively.
"Keep a corner of your stomach free for tonight," said Lucia. I checked my watch. Five hours from now, oh boy.
Well, this is Italy, where life revolves around eating, and eating well.

Buon Appetito!

Palma di Montechiaro