Sicily « baroquesicily.com - Sicily Stories and Travel Tips from Jann Huizenga

The Meadow is On My Plate

May 1, 2015

May Day. National holiday.

Andiamo alla campagna! One and all to the countryside!

Heading for the hills on May Day is one of those unwritten Sicilian rules, like the one that requires you, when hanging out your wash, to clip each sock at the toe and hang it neatly next to its mate.

So off we go.

And there we find: bygone lanes, farmhouses with braying dogs, fields of ripe artichokes.

But why we’ve really come is to forage for wild food. We rummage in meadows, like old-time peasants. Look! There’s asparagus, lassini and malva!

This goes on for hours.

Lassini–you have to pick these stems before they flower. It’s already too late to eat this particular plant but we find lassini plants in the shade that have not yet flowered.

Malva–you eat the leaves, not the flowers. It’s such an ancient food that Horace mentions it: Me pascunt olivae, me cichorea levesque malvae (As for me, olives, chickory and malva provide sustenance.)

When hunger hits, we pull down green almonds and pop the whole fuzzy thing in our mouths. I make a sour face and am admonished for my timidity.

Twenty minutes after arriving home, the meadow is on my plate.

It’s getting cold, so I will bid you buon appetito and arrivederci.

jann

***

Poppies & Happiness

April 27, 2015

Poppies spring from the old stone steps.A wind blows as I clatter down all 100 of them to the village “drawing room.” But in the piazza there’s warmth: we’re cocooned by the cathedral and buttery palazzi all around. The sun keeps my foamy coffee warm.
An old car gleams with nostalgia out on the street.

Two carabinieri saunter by in suits with a bright red stripe. They always travel in pairs. Brioches bake just inside the door. Bells roar. Umbrellas and birds flutter about. Even my hair is clean and smells good as it blows over my face. I scrawl in my notebook. Could there be a more perfect moment?

The piano teacher shuffles by and asks where is il marito, the husband? A constant concern of his.

Now all that remains in my cup is foam. I take the tiny spoon and scrape and scrape. I cannot bear for this moment to end.

Along comes Salvatore, 96.

He tells me stories, this time about how he helped to plant the towering palm trees on the piazza as a kid. I love(d) these palms with a mad passion; four of the six have just been chopped down. (Big brown bugs.) My happiness quotient drops to 90%, fretting about it (again).

There’s the clanking of glass as the barista with rock-like biceps plunks an ashtray on every single table. A pigeon swoops by, too close.

Three tourists labor up the hill toward the cathedral. “No! Go away!” I don’t actually yell this, though I want to. Out come the purple iPads, raised high overhead like golf trophies. My happiness quotient drops to 85%.

Here comes long-lost chain-smoking Giorgio, with his long grey ponytail. He helped plaster my old wine cantina. We kiss hello; talk 15 seconds; kiss goodbye–lots of kissing with a few cliches thrown in for good measure. Happiness quotient bounces back up.

Do I have a right to be happy? People are dying in earthquakes, sinking in rickety boats in the Mediterranean. Joy brings guilt. I get up to visit Suleiman, a refugee from Ghana being housed in the village. For five months he’s been lost in the Italian legal system. Will he ever find happiness?

*******

Mangiamo

April 13, 2015

OK, so the earth can sometimes be a dark and baleful place. But let us sweeten it in any way we can.

“Hello, Signora,” the roving vendor croaks. What do you need?”

This is what we’re eating now:

Take heart in the earth’s bounty!

Love to one and all.

Welcome Back Sun

March 27, 2015

Sicily, Sunny Sicily, was underwater most of March. I wasn’t here til three days ago, but i knew the moment I set foot in the house; water washed down walls, the floor was ponding.

But there’s a bright new sky today. Lizards slither. Underwear waves on balconies. Palm and olive branches abound.

Sicilians are still swaddled in winter gear.

Though tourists are convinced it’s summer.

Carmelo, my favorite barista in the whole world, is once again serving outdoors. He hasn’t set eyes on Kim for almost a year, and yet he remembered his drink: a doppio, double espresso.

Hope you’re having a great weekend!

Tanti baci della Sicilia,

jann

Summer’s End

September 9, 2014

Cari amici, where’ve you been??? I’ve missed you.

And I miss aromatic streets where sheets billow out like sails. People with olive-black eyes. Sun crawling over the cupola. Loud-mouthed merchants and tiny old ladies. Chaos at the post office. Jasmine growing wild.

I’ll be back in Sicily before too long I hope, but till then, here are a few more things I miss.