Welcome to my Sicilian Kitchen

July 22, 2013

In Sicily I’ve pared my kitchen down to the bare essentials: a set of mis-matched dishes and bowls, one frying pan, a toaster. No freezer (one of the best gelato shops in the world is just down the steps). No mixer (good exercise, beating egg whites by hand!). No tea kettle (pan works, no?). No microwave.

More happy with less. Took me years to figure this out.

What I keep above my deep stone sink: two colanders, potholders knit by local ladies, a dried round of the local bread, measuring cups and spoons.

A glimpse of my kitchen in Sicily, copyright Jann HuizengaThe salt (sale) pot is filled with Sicilian rock salt from the Trapani salt pans. The old coffee grinder, gifted by my simpatico orange-suited garbage man, reigns like some kind of Platonic representation of  Human Sweetness.


The Moroccan tea glasses from the Modica flea market, 1 apiece, remind me I must get back to Morocco. The little clay bird-whistle is a good luck charm from Matera, that amazing town in Basilicata that looks so much like  Sicily.

Moroccan tea glasses, copyright Jann Huizenga

The whisk, a Sicilian antique, unleashes flakes of paint as I stir my lemon gelo. I fish them out, dreaming of the Sicilian housewife who once upon a time long ago concocted this very dessert with this very whisk…kitchen stuff

Spice jars are fun to look at, even when it’s way too hot to cook.

Spices in my Sicilian kitchen, copyright Jann Huizenga

Thanks for visiting la mia cucina siciliana!!!!



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Tomato Sauce

November 25, 2011

Good enough to eat?

Photoshopped image of Tomatoes on Wall, copyright Jann Huizenga


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.

Caltagirone tile from Sicily, copyright Jann Huizenga




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Win A Deer, Here

November 20, 2012

I have a serious maiolica fetish.

You’ve already seen my Alpine-steep staircase in Sicily, all done up with Caltagirone tiles.

Sicilian Staircase using tiles from Caltagirone, copyright Jann Huizenga

Now I’d like to share my fetish with you. Drop  a comment on this post and you’ll be entered to win this Sicilian tile  from Caltagirone. Tell me anything–why you *need* this 4″ x 4″ prancing blue deer (trivet for your Christmas casserole?), what you love most about Italy, what you will cook for Thanksgiving dinner. You’ll need to provide an address in the US or Canada if you win. (Deadline for entry: Midnight EST  Friday, Nov 23.) Thanks for playing, deers!

Caltagirone tile from Sicily, copyright Jann Huizenga

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Vespas with Liver Spots in Sicily

June 30, 2012

My Mister recalls visiting Rome as a kid: “Nothin’ but Vespas and busses on the roads.”

You can still find Vespas from that era on the roads in Sicily.

Faded memories.

Antidote to modernity.

Like old lace.

An Antonioni film.

Life in the past lane.


Old Yellow Vespa in Sicily, copyright Jann Huizenga

Old Green Vespa in Sicily, copyright Jann Huizenga

Old Rusty Vespa in Sicily, copyright Jann Huizenga

Rusty White Vespa in Sicily, copyright Jann Huizenga

Old Vespas in Sicily, copyright Jann Huizenga

Are you a fast lane or past lane person?


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Settling in Sicily: The Long Decision, Part IV

May 23, 2012

You asked for some more snippets of my New Life.

Here they are, with my compliments of the day…

Storage space in limited in the New Life, so pots and pans and bowls are stacked high on shelves.

My fridge is just a waist-high pull-out drawer. Love it! Nothing bulky to block the view from the kitchen.

My dishes are either flea-market finds (chipped & cracked) or from the remainder bin at the local supermarket. My motto: no dish or cup or glass over 1 euro.

I splurged on a few pots from Caltagirone, Sicily's ceramics center.

My heat source. (Sicily can get raw in the winter.) Dryers are not used in Sicily, so the radiators function as my dryer when it rains.

I couldn't believe when the electrician showed up with a huge box of outlet covers--I had my choice of about 35 gorgeous colors, and of course I chose green.


A hand with a menorah--found in the Moroccan desert--dangles from my closet door.

My narrow balcony holds a spindly olive and a puny orange tree.


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