March 19, 2013
Antonio wipes his floury face.
He dusts off his palms then smiles a shy-smile and hangs back.
The shopper next to me at the register, a tiny woman, blinks up with nut-brown eyes and explodes with words: “Yes, signora, you are right to take a photo of this bread! What he does is an art! And not many do it! How much longer…?”
Antonio unfurls his apron like a dusty flag and follows me out the bakery door into better light.
His opere d’arte–baroque breads, all curves and coils and curlicues–were created for today’s Feast of St. Joseph (Festa di San Giuseppe).
I forgot to ask what this other one means. It appears to be dancing the tarantella. Any ideas?
I will not eat these–not because of my pasta paunch, but because of their soul. They will glow on my sideboard until they fall to crumbs.
Saint Joseph is Sicily’s most important saint, and his feast day is the source of much hoopla in the nearby town of Santa Croce Camerina.