December 26, 2011
Sicily tries to kill you with sugar, and Christmas Day is no exception.
Everyone was walking the streets yesterday morning smooching and shouting “Auguri!” And juggling a cake or two. 
These are no ordinary cakes. They’re saccharine clouds pasted together with cinnamon-ricotta goo, doused with cognac or rum, laced with teeth-achingly sweet marzipan, and topped with pistachio nuts, berries, chocolate or a blood-rush of sugary icing and spirals of candied orange, lemon, and citron.
Dig in for a glucose overdose, and don’t blame me if you gain a few kilos:
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December 12, 2011
It’s nice to be away from forced Yuletide cheer, piped-in Jingle Bell Rock, wild mobs in big-box stores, Santas tolling bells in your face, parking lot chaos.
Call me Scrooge if you will.
But a low-key Christmas is a welcome change. Sicilians in villages get festive by hand-painting Santa scenes on shop windows.
 Or by walking through darkness with light.
 Or by hanging a few stars.
 Isn’t that enough? (Along with some fine food and a little bubbly?)
Take it easy this holiday and don’t forget the simple things.
Buone Feste!
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My fellow blogger from Calabria speaks eloquently about this very topic.
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December 20, 2010
Well, I never. My first Christmas in Sicily, and so many surprises! I found this pair wandering an empty piazza. They stopped so I could shoot them, but I didn’t dare interrupt the music to ask Who in blazes are you?
 The Great God Google says they’re Zampognari. The instrument on the right is a zampogna, or Italian bagpipe, made of reeds and a sheep’s hide, and dating back to the time of Nero.
In Sicily, bagpipe-blowing shepherds traditionally come down from Mount Etna at Christmastime to play in the villages–sort of the Sicilian equivalent of Christmas carolers.
Are these Zampognari real shepherds dressed up as Santa? Or faux shepherds trying to revive what many fear is a dying art? I’m not sure, but they blow a mean Christmas carol.
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December 18, 2010
My first Christmas in Sicily. Things are low-key and I’m lovin’ it. The bar has dangled a few nonchalant stars; the barista wears a red tie . The (horse) butcher has lined his doorway with a handful of twinkle-lights. Poinsettias redden the piazza.
Things at the supermercato have reached a fever pitch, though. Christmas cakes in hat boxes—piled high on skids everywhere you look—teeter alarmingly, threatening to bury you alive under mounds of butter and lard. Friends tell me Sicilians start gobbling the cakes (called panettone or pan d’oro) at the end of November. By Christmas, they’re so bloated they can’t look at a hat box.
Which one to get?
Chocolate with orange nibs? Laced with Grand Marnier? Cointreau? Nuts? Truffles? A Mister Chocolate?
How about a cake with a bottle of bubbly enclosed? My head spins.
I finally close my eyes and point. I pick the classic—a spongey-eggy poof studded with oranges and raisins (OK, I’m boring). Wish I were sharing this monster with you!!
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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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