A FAVOURITE FOOD FOR A FAVOURITE SAINT

Our estate di San Martino (Saint Martin's summer) has been well and truly over since Sunday and I sit here writing this on a cold, rainy afternoon. A prolonged summer is named for the saint because, according to legend, in the winter of the year 335 St Martin of Tours met a freezing, starving beggar at the gates of Amiens. He cut his cloak in two and gave half to the man and, coming across another man in a similar condition moments later, gave the other half to him. It is said that the sun came out when he gave away the second half of the cloak - hence l'estate di San Martino.

Frittelle (deep-fried pastries or doughnuts)) are traditional on St Martin's Day (11th November) not only because they are small and symbolise pieces of the cloak, but also because they contain few ingredients and centuries ago could be made by rich and poor alike. They can be fried using the new oil from the olive harvest and are often served with the vino novello which is traditionally opened on this day.

St Martin is associated with the poor and is the protector of soldiers, innkeepers, hoteliers and beggars. He died in Candes, now Candes-Saint-Martin, in 397. He is one of my favourite saints so I really wanted to find some frittelle yesterday and I did, in my local fruit shop. 

BUONA NOTTE DI SAN LORENZO 2022

It is mid-August and once again it is the Feast of St Lawrence, followed by la notte di San Lorenzo, the night on which young Italians often stay on the beach, looking for shooting stars or le lacrime di San Lorenzo (St Lawrence's tears). If you see some, they are said to bring you good fortune. As I wrote last year, the only notte di San Lorenzo on which I've managed to spot some was in 2019 and whether they brought me good luck depends on how I interpret 2020! I suppose they did, in that I have been lucky enough to survive the pandemic so far and in 2020 I managed to complete my memoir.

This year. I think I will be disappointed again, though, as it seems that the Perseids will mostly be active on the 13th, but may be obscured by a very bright full moon. Never mind, I love the Sicilian moon! 

Whether or not you see the stars, here is a lovely song for you to enjoy tonight:

CAKE, GELATO AND SAINTS

My birthday on Monday (St Valentine's Day) prompted a trip to Catania with a friend on Saturday, and also led to much thought, principally about how, with a bit of luck, you feel reasonably strong and energetic for quite a long time in your life and then suddenly you are seventy-two and everything takes much more effort than it used to. You also have to start admitting that there are some things you can't do any more and for me these include standing for long periods, standing on ladders or chairs (balance problems) and chopping an onion as if I was on Masterchef. However, being here is better than the alternative, as they say, and, as we have all led such restricted lives due to Covid over the past two years, I was very happy to go to Catania in December for the first time since my birthday in 2020 and again last Saturday when a friend offered to buy me lunch there. It was a lovely, sunny day, warm enough to eat outside and watch the world go by, and this semifreddo agli agrumi di Sicilia rounded off a delicious meal:

The atmosphere in Catania was happy, for, although the processions which would normally take place for the feast of the city's patron Sant'Agata had again been cancelled due to Covid, masses were taking place for her in the cathedral and everyone seemed to be still feeling festive. Sant'Agata's feast day is 8th February but processions are held on the 12th, the ottavo or eighth day after her feast. This brave lady was jailed for refusing to sacrifice to the Roman gods and / or because she refused the advances of the Roman prefect. In prison she underwent several forms of torture, including having her breasts pulled out with pincers and being forced to walk on broken glass and hot coals. Unsurprisingly seriously ill after these ordeals, she is said to have been healed by St Peter, who appeared to her. She was sentenced to be burnt at the stake but an earthquake prevented the sentence from being carried out. Sant'Agata died in prison, probably in AD 251. She is the protector of people suffering from breast cancer, wet nurses, bell-founders and bakers among others and is thought to be able to protect the city from the eruptions of Etna. Therefore, you will understand, she is a most beloved saint.

"Got the fridge magnet"

After lunch and a pleasant stroll along Catania's wide main shopping street, via Etnea, we decided to find the new gelateria opened there by Don Peppinu. This company make the most delicious ice cream and their efficient and cheerful delivery service saved me when the first lockdown continued into April 2020 and I was gasping for gelato. I will be forever grateful to them and, also in lockdown, I ordered one of their cannoli kits to gladden a lonely weekend. The Catania shop is beautiful and Don Peppinu has lots of new and unusual ice cream flavours so, if you're ever in the city, do pay a visit.

On Monday I treated myself to another birthday lunch in my local bar, the Cicara Caffeteria, and when I ordered a slice of their strawberry tart - because you have to have cake on your birthday - it came with a candle, which made me happy.

Then I went home to be with my dog, read and reflect on other birthdays: the seven-shaped cake my dad ordered, obviously, for my seventh, the romantic, padded birthday and Valentine cards I used to receive from my first love back in Bristol, the disappointing birthday when an emotionally unavailable man gave me a gift the day before but didn't want to spend the actual day with me and was totally unaware of how much that hurt, and of how the postman in Cardiff used to think I had many lovers because I always received lots of cards on Valentine's Day. I never disillusioned him. Then of course there were the other milestone birthdays I've celebrated in Modica - my fifty-fifth before I came to live here, my sixtieth when I decorated my house with images and record covers from the 1950s and 60s and my seventieth, also in my local bar, two evenings before the fourteenth and twenty-nine days before the beginning of Italy's first national lockdown. I look at the photos of that night and think, "What if we had known?"

Modica, 1995 - my 55th; Modica, 2020 - cake for my 70th; 
me on my 70th; 2022 - Cicara Bar, Modica

But in the month of love let us end with love: Valentine's Day, of course, is much commercialised but I think the saint - associated with love either because he signed a letter to his jailer's daughter "from your Valentine" or because he secretly married Roman couples who were in love, so that the husband could not be conscripted - has left us something precious if it causes us to remember, and be grateful for, all the love we have in its many forms. I go home, I look at my dog and I realise I have all the love in the world, right here.

AN ACCESSIBLE SAINT

As I mentioned in my hurricane pasta post last week, Sicily has suffered some very bad weather lately. Just one week after the almost total devasation of Catania, floods hit the province again last night, affecting Agrigento and Siracusa provinces as well. Even Ragusa did not escape this time. So there was no "St Martin's summer" ("Indian summer") for us this year.

I have written about this favourite saint of mine before and long-term readers may remember that I explained that the term "St Martin's summer" is used for good weather which lasts into November because of the legend of St Martin's cloak:  In the fourth century, Martin met a beggar at the gates of Amiens on a very cold day and cut his cloak in two with his sword to give half to the poor man. It is said that the sun came out and began to shine brilliantly at that very moment, hence the term estate di San Martino, a phenomenon which I have enjoyed many times in Sicily.

The Feast of St Martin is celebrated on 11th November, the anniversary of his funeral in 397 ( he had died on 8th November) and, because this is also Remembrance or Armistice Day in Britain and my mind yesterday was on my paternal grandfather who was blinded in action in 1918, I'm afraid I had forgotten about St Martin until I was offered fritelle in his honour in my local bar. Fritelle are often served on feast days but are particularly appropriate for St Martin's Day because they can be fried  using the season's new olive oil and go beautifully with the vino novello which is opened on this day. Fritelle are akin to doughnuts but are much smaller and lighter and can be sweet or savoury. They can contain ricotta, walnuts, sultanas and / or fennel seeds, among other ingredients and I must say they are just what you need on a blustery, rainy day like yesterday.

Fritelle

I think St Martin is a very accessible saint for several reasons: we know quite a lot about him and he is a multicultural saint, having been born in what is now Hungary, brought up in Pavia, joined the Roman army and been posted to the Amiens area. He eventually became Bishop of Tours and founded the monastery of Ligugé, the first monastic community in Gaul. As Bishop of Tours he kissed a leper and cured him ( hundreds of years before St Francis did so) and he is credited with encouraging wine-making in the Tours area and introducing the Chenin blanc grape there. I discovered by accident yesterday that the Capetian dynasty of French kings probably owe this name to St Martin because the early kings were lay abbots of the Basilica of St Martin of Tours where part of the cappa (cloak) was kept and it is likely that the name Capet comes from this.

Going back to the weather, I like the the line in Carducci's poem about St Martin's Day in which he describes a miserable, cold day on which the aroma of wine  - presumably the vino novello - manages to "touch the soul with glee." This is what the story of this very human, accessible saint always does for me. I hope it warms your hearts too.

ST. DAVID'S DAY 2018

Yes, I've had a long break from blogging, for health and other reasons but I've never let a St David's Day go by without posting and I will not do so now.  So HAPPY ST DAVID'S DAY, wherever you are!

Over at London Town Modica - Centro Linguistico Internazionale we've been celebrating as usual and even the Queen popped in:

Later we decided we needed more cake:

Whatever is going on in her life, a girl needs to keep on trying, so here are my St David's Day nails and top:

Bertie-Pierrine had a St David's Day haircut and is feeling very waggy:

And finally, some St David's Day music. I love this version of The Ash Grove:

Stay happy. Stay Welsh, even if you're not and stay kind!

MAY DAY AND ST JOSEPH

May Day or the "Workers' Holiday" is being celebrated today in Italy, as elsewhere, but some of you may not know that the day also celebrates Christ's earthly father St Joseph or San Giuseppe for the second time in the year. St Joseph's main feast falls on 19th March but in 1955 Pope Pius XII inserted a feast day in the liturgical calendar to remember "St Joseph the Worker". The day chosen for this was 1st May, precisely to counteract the secular holiday largely associated with socialism and communism. Pope Pius wanted people to remember not only St Joseph, but the dignity of work, which "continues the work of the Creator and enables men to make themselves useful to their brethren".  He also said that people should ask St Joseph to intercede for them in their work.

Besides being the protector of workmen - including, as you might expect, carpenters - St Joseph is said to protect bursars, lawyers and fathers everywhere.  He is also believed to have saved Sicily from famine, hence the tradition of creating altars of bread in his honour for his March feast day.

The above portrait of San Giuseppe is in Modica Bassa but the grille which shelters it from the elements is only ever open for a few days around 19th March. I have always loved it.

HAPPY ST DAVID'S DAY 2017

It's St David's Day and naturally, there have to be Welshcakes:

A girl also has to have St David's Day nails:

And there has to be this:

Only Men Aloud - Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau

To the Welsh everywhere, to those who wish they were Welsh and to all with a song in their heart,  Happy St David's Day!

A LADY FROM FRANCE

The little Sacro Cuore Church and the whole community of Modica was very happy to welcome the relics of St Bernadette Soubirous of Lourdes on Saturday:

Body of St Bernadette Soubirous, which lies in a crystal coffin. Her hands and face have a light wax covering.
Image:  Parrocchia Sacro Cuore Modica on facebook

St Bernadette Soubirous of Lourdes

The relics in the Sacro Cuore Church
Image:  Parrocchia Sacro Cuore Modica on facebook

The Parish had produced an informative booklet about the life and visions of St Bernadette. The relics remained with us until Sunday evening, when they were taken on the next stage of their journey to visit other churches in the diocese.

Besides being the protectress of Lourdes, St Bernadette is a protectress of the sick, shepherds and shepherdesses, poor people and those who are ridiculed for their faith.

I have the following cards of Lourdes in my collection of old postcards and thought you would like to see them. Every time I come across the card showing the two ladies, I wonder who they were - mother and daughter, mistress and maid, friends?  If one or both of them were ill, I hope Bernadette helped them.

Birthplace of Bernadette Soubirous

Anne Murray - Song of Bernadette

Chanson de Bernadette - Canzone di Bernadette [from TV mini-series Lourdes, dir. Lodovico Gasparini, 2000]

SANTA LUCIA 2013

Today is the festa of Santa Lucia and, for those of you who do not know her story, here is an edited version of a post of mine about her from 2009:

Santa Lucia was martyred in Siracusa in 304 AD during the Persecution of Diocletian. She is one of my favourite saints, along with St Martin and St Francis, because a feminist reading of her story would lead one to conclude that she was partially condemned for her unconventionality [though I suppose all saints were unconventional].

Lucia consecrated her virginity to God and expressed a wish to give all her worldly goods to the poor. She refused to marry a pagan, but her spurned fiancé had his revenge after Lucia and her mother, Eutychia [or Eutychiaea], visited Catania in the hope that the martyred Sant'Agata of that city would cure Eutychia of a haemorrage. Eutychia was cured and Lucia distributed some of her wealth to the poor, thus incurring the further wrath of her would-be husband, who denounced her to Paschasius, the Governor of Sicily.

First condemned to become a prostitute, Lucia literally could not be moved, so then her persecutors unsuccessfully tried to burn her. Finally she was decapitated with a sword and the story goes that her eyes were gouged out first. One legend has it that only her eyes remained of her, but there is also a story that her body lay undisturbed in Sicily for 400 years before other relics were dispersed. In art, Santa Lucia is often represented with her eyes on a plate and church-goers in Italy are given tiny pieces of pasta representing her eyes on 13th December.

Other symbols of Santa Lucia are the sword and the palm and she is the protector of electricians, eye specialists and the blind.

A Sicilian proverb tells us,

Da santa Lucia a Natali quant'un passu di cani. 

- From Santa Lucia's Day till Christmas the days lengthen by a dog's step.

Beniamino Gigli - Santa Lucia

WITH A LITTLE HELP FROM MY SAINTS

St Anthony of Padua with the child Jesus
by Antonio de Pereda
Image: Wikipedia

Yesterday there was a good development in my personal life.  I can't go into detail here yet but believe me, it's been a long time coming and the past couple of months have been particularly difficult.

"Ah, it's because it's Saint Anthony's Day", said a close friend here and as I was grateful and continue to need all the help I can get, I determined to find out more about St Anthony of Padua [ Fernando Martins de Bulhões, 15.8.1195 - 13.6.1231]:

Fernando was not from Padua at all but was born in Lisbon.  As a young man, he entered Augustine Canons but afterwards became a Franciscan, having met and been impressed by some Franciscan friars who were on their way to Morocco, where they were later martyred.  It was their simplicity that appealed to Anthony, as he became in his Franciscan order.

Anthony wanted to go and preach the Gospel in Morocco too but was unable to complete his journey because of illness. He therefore decided to visit Italy, the centre of his order but, in another turn of fate, his ship was driven towards Sicily in a storm and he landed at Messina.  I was delighted to discover this Sicilian connection!  Anthony travelled to Tuscany and then to San Paolo near Forli [Romagna], where he worked in a hospice and studied.  Then one day he was called upon to preach a sermon and he did this so eloquently that he was sent to preach all around Lombardy.  He even came to the attention of St Francis of Assisi himself, who gave Anthony teaching duties.  Anthony continued to preach but also served as an envoy to Pope Gregory IX and taught at several European universities.  He died on his way to Padua at the age of 36. He was canonized just eleven months after his death and was declared a Doctor of the Church in 1946.  

During my research I learned that Saint Anthony is called upon to find missing objects [which could be very handy]  and you can also enlist his help in finding a husband [wish I'd known before].  He is the protector of orphans, prisoners, the shipwrecked, pregnant women, infertile women, glaziers and new recruits of all kinds.

To bring this back to the personal, I wasn't infertile but life did not bless me with circumstances in which I might have had children.  Few women in this position talk about it and the fact that it is a loss - of hope and so much more - does not seem to be recognised by society.  Whether or not, had I been born in the UK 30 years later than I was, I would have skipped along to the sperm clinic is a question I cannot answer, nor is it the point here. I'm just going to  assume that St Anthony's compassion extends to those of us who did not conceive for other reasons and from today he joins my list of favourite saints.

Now, where did I put my keys?

RUNNING WITH NINO

I've written about Nino Baglieri, Modica's much loved unofficial saint, both on this blog and for Italy Magazine and I am happy to be able to report that, five years after his death, the request for his Beatification has been made.  


For the past few days, Nino's house in Modica has been a place of pilgrimage and his family were particularly pleased to welcome young people from the Salesian movement at the weekend.  


"Nino", said his sister, "encouraged young people to fight against the difficulties of everyday life, to go forward and never give up."


Nino Baglieri was 17 years old in 1968 when a fall from some scaffolding left him tetraplegic and for ten years afterwards he lived in self-imposed isolation, cursing both God and his fate.  Then, in 1978, during a prayer meeting in his house, he found God again.  From that moment he offered his suffering to Christ and, having joined the Salesians, became an inspiration to young and old alike.  He offered guidance to others who were suffering and, holding a pen in his mouth, began to write.  He travelled, too, spreading his message of love everywhere he went.  Those who visited him in Modica say that it was always Nino who comforted them and not the sick man who needed solace.

On his death bed, Nino asked for his tracksuit and sports shoes to be put out so that he "could run into the arms of God." It is for this reason that the young Salesians who gathered in Modica on Sunday adopted as their slogan the words, "Corro verso la santità. Come Nino, l'atleta di Dio" - "I'm running towards sainthood, like God's athlete, Nino."

Although five years is the minimum period that has to elapse between a person's death and the beginning of their Beatification procedure,  it usually takes longer.  ["Exceptional circumstances" were cited in the case of Pope John Paul 11.]  The formal request for the Beatification of Nino was made by Don Pascual Chavez, Rector General of the Salesians, in Noto Cathedral on Saturday.

Corriamo con Nino!

BUON SAN LORENZO

In a few hours' time it will be la notte di San Lorenzo and I'll be out on the balcony with my nose in the air, looking for falling stars.  Here, for you, dear readers, is a selection of my favourite "star" songs and may all your wishes come true tonight:

Cristiano De André - La Notte di San Lorenzo



Mireille Mathieu - La Première Etoile



Maureen Evans - Starlight, Starbright [because I had to include a Welshwoman!]



The song that must have been written for tonight:  Perry Como - Catch a Falling Star



The most romantic Italian song ever:  The Three Tenors - Ti voglio tanto bene




And, for all you kids [like me] out there:   Stella, stellina





Buon divertimento e buona notte di San Lorenzo!

THE STORY OF "LIGHT"

Most of you know that I am not religious.  However, I do believe that there are some very special people in this world and that some things are inexplicable.  If it is faith that explains them, who am I to argue?  This is an article of mine which was published in Italy Magazine on Monday:

An Italian girl who died in 1989 at the age of eighteen is to be beatified on the 25th September this year. Beatification is an important step in the process towards sainthood and allows the person to be honoured by a particular group or in a particular region.

The Venerable Chiara “Luce” Badano was born in 1971 to Ruggero Badano, a truck driver, and his wife Maria Teresa Caviglia in Sassello [Liguria]. The family was hard-working and pious and Chiara was an open, friendly child who always cared about others, particularly the elderly.

When Chiara was nine years old, she joined the Focolare Movement, which works for unity between faiths. Though profoundly religious, Chiara was not “perfect”: she was strong-willed and, when she became a teenager, like teenagers all over the world, she argued with her parents about matters like what time she should be in at night. There were tears, too, when she failed some school exams. Chiara enjoyed walking, tennis, swimming, dancing and singing. Her original ambition was to become an air hostess but later she felt that her destiny was to become a missionary.

One day, when she was playing tennis, she experienced pain in her shoulder. Her doctor did not think it was anything serious and neither did Chiara. But the pain refused to go away and Chiara was diagnosed with osteogenic sarcoma at the age of 17.

At first she displayed a positive attitude, believing that she had a good chance of beating the disease because she was young. However, the cancer spread quickly and Chiara was admitted to hospital many times, undergoing painful surgery.

Eventually she accepted that she would die but this did not stop her helping others while she was in hospital. Of her need to rest, she said,

“I’ll have time to rest later.”

She corresponded regularly with Chiara Lubich, the founder of the Focolare Movement, and it was Lubich who gave Chiara the name of “Luce” [“Light”].

As Chiara’s hair fell out after chemotherapy, she said,

“For you, Jesus”

and when she lost the use of her legs she declared that she would rather go to heaven than walk.

Chiara’s friends visited her in hospital but soon realised that it was they who needed her and not the other way round. Chiara gave them courage and did the same for her doctors. She gave all her savings to a friend who was about to leave on a mission to Africa and said,

“I have nothing left but my heart and with that I can always love”.

She refused morphine for pain relief as it affected her lucidity and she offered her suffering to Christ, whom she referred to as her “bridegroom”. Convinced that she was going to Jesus, her last words, on 7th October 1989 were,

“Be happy because I am happy”.

With her mother Chiara had planned her funeral as a “wedding ceremony”. Two thousand people attended and she had asked them not to cry. Chiara’s tomb is now a place of pilgrimage.

Chiara “Luce” Badano will be the first member of the Focolare Movement to be beatified. Last year Pope Benedict approved a decree attributing the healing of a young boy with meningitis to her intercession.

Do you have a favourite saint?

OF SANT'ANTONIO, FRILLS AND FLOUNCES

"Did Lady Macbeth wear a girdle?

Was that why Macbeth murdered sleep?"

- Lawrence Ferlinghetti, "Underwear".

Regular readers will know that I am not one of the world’s “Rise and shine” people , for I am usually at my best very late at night. “Early”, for me, is about 10 am, though Simi wakes at 06.00 and I open the shutters so that she can watch the dogs opposite in their run, then I’m back to the land of nod for a few hours. If it’s one of Rosa’s days, I get up at 8 and watch her energetically “doing” the house, wondering all the time how she can be so – well, normal – at what I regard as the crack of dawn.

So yesterday morning when the buzzer sounded at 9 am, I hastily dressed, thinking it it could only be the postwoman with a parcel which I am expecting. But no, “Sono io, Lucia” sang a cheerful voice over the intercom. Lucia is rather like an “Avon lady” and she arrives weekly to sell me make-up and herbal remedies, which I am all too easily persuaded to buy, as she, who is a little older than me, looks fabulous. She is very kind, and always brings me something other than her wares: some olive oil made from her own olives, lettuce from her garden or broken homemade biscuits for Simi. Yesterday she had brought two chunks of fresh bread: “Today is Sant'Antonio”, she informed me, “and I’ve just been to the monastery to have this bread blessed. You must dip it in oil and oregano and eat some.” I obediently did so, as I need all the help I can get, and very fine bread it was, delicious with this simple condiment.

There is a certain kind of Italian prettiness, which consists in not being afraid to be feminine, in piling on your fine jewellery and mixing it with bling, in wearing your frills and flounces with pride, in setting it all off with a perfect hairdo and accessorising like mad. All this Lucia has and I envy her. When the woman is ready, she doesn’t hide her charms but walks along the street confidently, knowing she looks stunning. If she is older, she won’t encounter “white van man” shouting, “Not bad, gran” or “Borrowed your granddaughter’s dress, luv?” but will receive appreciative looks from men of all ages.

The other secret of looking like this is that, for each outfit, you have to have not only the perfect accessories but the perfect underwear. A British friend of mine, who designs and makes clothes for aristocratic weddings, says she can take at least half a stone off any woman by means of the underwear, which is, of course, sewn into the garment. [That’s partly how the Princess Dianas of the world achieve their look.]

So, with this in mind, after Lucia’s visit I made for the via Sacro Cuore and my favourite intimi shop because it was high time [I use the word “high” advisedly] I got myself properly equipped for my new outfits. “I want a bra with a feretto [underwiring] that will bring them up to here”, I explained, pointing to just below my neck and, with an understanding smile, the sales assistant brought me not one apparatus, but three, that would do just that. [They look at you and guess your size here and they are usually right.] Breathe in, let her adjust the straps and watch your body shape change instantly! “And I want another strapless one, please, and one that won’t show its seams under t-shirts.” More wonders of gravity defiance were whisked off the shelves for my inspection and of course, they just happened to have an offer on, and if I took not one, but two, of each , I could get a third free and a discount off the frillies to go with them and then there was this lingerie perfume they had just brought out….

myspace layouts

But the star product, in my opinion, was this clever solution to the “strapless” dilemma. [Yes, guys, we are always worrying about how to push ‘em up under those strapless dresses and tops!] You can substitute this for the straps of a “convertible” bra – only the Italians would think of it and it’s much neater, I think, than transparent straps. It comes in several colours, too:

When I first came here I found underwear shopping a nightmare as there are few M&S [a British chain-store] type shops where it is displayed on hangers and you are free to browse. In 4 years more semi-browsable shops have appeared but you will not be left alone to make your choices, for the shop assistants would regard that as being unhelpful. I have come to the conclusion that, if you choose the right store, an underwear-shopping trip is much more fun the Italian way!

LUNCH ON SAN FRANCESCO'S DAY

Kind friends who know I've been a little under the weather invited me to a lovely lunch today: first, there was grana cheese, Modican bread and some British pickle [which I haven't tasted for years], followed by this wonderful, homely dish of cannelloni - oh, you should have been with me, reader, to enjoy the aroma coming from that kitchen! - then a fresh fruit salad flavoured with good, reviving Sicilian honey. Finally, along came this beautifully decorated cassata, which, with its layers of sponge, ricotta and chocolate inside, tasted every bit as delicious as it looked.

You may be interested to know that the gentle saint of Assisi, besides being the patron saint of animals and of Italy, is the protector of: shopkeepers, rope makers, ecologists, floriculturists, merchants, upholsterers and poets.

I am off to have a drink to him.

SAN GIUSEPPE

I have never seen the shutters and grille which usually hide this portrait of San Giuseppe open before, down in Modica Bassa and right next to the Caffè del Portico outside which I have whiled away many an hour, I assure you. Presumably the niche has been opened ready for the saint's day on March 19th. San Giuseppe is credited with having saved Sicily from famine: the fava bean is eaten and special breads are baked in his honour, altars of bread being created in some towns, most famously in Salemi [Trapani].