MIMOSA DAY

In Italy International Women's Day is widely celebrated and its symbol is the mimosa flower, because it is plentiful at this time of year. Mimosa bouquets are sold in the street, sprigs appear with your coffee in bars and pasticcerie make mimosa-themed cakes like these:

Almost exactly five years after the loss of the woman whose idea the mimosa symbol was, I thought I should repost what I wrote on the day of her death, 12th March 2013. Teresa Mattei has always been, and remains, one of my heroines:

Born in Genova in 1921, Teresa Mattei graduated in Philosophy from the University of Florence and became an antifascist campaigner. During the Second World War she was known as Partigiana Chicchi.  In 1946 she became the youngest woman member of the Assemblea Costituente, the parliamentary chamber charged with drawing up Italy's Constitution, a document which she defended throughout her life.

It was Teresa Mattei who had the idea of making the mimosa blossom the symbol of International Women's Day [8th March] for the simple reason that the flowers are in season in early March and can be obtained at little or no cost. 

Of the potential of women in politics she said,

"Women, in contrast to men, seek knowledge, cooperation and solidarity. They are the bearers of new life. They do not see society as being divided into classes but as a multitude of men and women with the same problems. Women can bring this new spirit into politics, but we have to create the structures that can allow this to happen."

Referring to the Second Prodi Government and its six women ministers, of whom only two had portfolios, she went on to say,

"These poor women can have no influence, because a minister without portfolio is unable to do what a minister with portfolio can, that is, to use a budget to put a plan into action. This is a very serious situation."

I think that first sentence is a metaphor for women's powerlessness all over the world.

Teresa Mattei died in Lari [Province of Pisa] today (12.3.13) at the age of 92.  I'm glad she saw this 8th March and, as she is laid to rest, the mimosa blooms for her all over Italy.

You are not forgotten, Teresita!

RELIGION AND RAVIOLI

The weekend again saw the festival of the Sacred Heart or Sacro Cuore and, although I wouldn't describe myself as a religious person, there is something that I find very uplifting and restful about watching groups of people gathering together to celebrate their religion in a joyful, peaceful  way without causing any harm or disurbance to anyone.  It may be a small festival and it may not be very sophisticated but it is, quite simply, "good" in the Christian sense of the word.

I was invited to watch the procession from a friend's balcony and we had a great time chatting out there, intermittently watching the proceedings, listening to the music coming from the church courtyard, exclaiming at the fireworks and finally, eating.

For yes, there has to be food and this year the programme proudly announced the Sagra (food festival) of ricotta-filled ravioli in sauce - not any old sauce, you understand, but a rich tomato sauce that is lovingly cooked for a long time with 'strattu and pork.  The cook serving the trays of ravioli told my friend's husband that she had earlier made no less than 1,000 ravioli by hand! Well, faced with that information, I'm sure you would agree that it would have been churlish to leave any of the tempting offerings on the individual trays on which they were served. Everyone who bought a tray got ricotta ravioli with not just sauce, but a generous portion of the pork used to flavour it, a sausage, bread and cheese and some sweet ravioli to finish.  Of course, it wouldn't have been an Italian summer festival without ice cream and I had made and taken along some of  that old stand-by of mine which I call "chocolate thingies".

Keep gathering in peace, cari modicani, and I hope the "ravioli lady", once she has recovered from Sunday, gets to make many more!

MIMOSA AND MOTIVATION

Mimosa blossom is very much the order of the day for the festa della donna [International Women's Day] so it was nice to be presented with a sprig of it with my Sicilian orange juice in the bar this morning and lovely to receive the gift on the left from a friend:

I thought it would be appropriate, on this day, to tell you about ten Italian women who have inspired me - well, more than ten, really, as there are whole convents of nuns involved - but it started at ten!

Teresa Mattei

Firstly, if you are wondering why the mimosa is the symbol of International Women's Day in Italy, it was the idea of one Teresa Mattei , activist, partisan and one of the "mothers of the Italian Constitution".  

The other great ladies on my list come in no particular order and I make no apologies for the fact that several of them are writers. I'm just made that way.

Oriana Fallaci has fascinated me since my student days and I learnt only recently that the woman once known as "Italy's most aggessive journalist" could be just like the rest of us when she fell in love!

Elsa Morante was another writer whose work I started reading as a student and in my opinion her greatest novel remains La Storia or History. Of that other literary lady who is so popular both here and in Britain, namely signora Ferrante, I have read only one volume, so I am reserving judgement for now.  If I get hooked you'll be the first to know!

The works of Natalia Ginzburg were a comfort to me in my student days and they are a comfort to me now.

Rita Levi Montalcini, who left us almost five years ago, was a scientist and Nobel laureate who, even at the age of 100, had a special empathy with the young, whom her achievements and words continue to excite. The world is poorer without her.

Rita Levi Montalcini depicted in flower petals at the Noto Infiorata, 2011

Franca Viola

No woman living in Sicily can forget Franca Viola, whose determination not to submit to bullying changed Italian law.  She lives happily today in Alcamo.

Maria Grammatico, Ericean pastry cook who told her story to Mary Taylor Simeti in Bitter Almonds, was brought up in a convent, where she learnt to make pastries. I have yet to achieve my ambition of visiting her pastry shop in Erice.

There are still convents in Sicily where the nuns make and sell pastries to raise funds for maintenance or good causes and I'll never forget the day I bought these, through a grille, from a convent in Agrigento. You have my admiration, dear sisters:

The story of Daniela Spada is one I read recently and who could not be inspired by this lady's courage and the determination with which she fought her way back from devastating illness? I learnt so much from this book.

Artemesia Gentileschi is a woman I've admired since the first film about her came out in the 1990s. More talented than her father and brothers, if ever a woman literally suffered for her art, it was she. Artemesia continued painting, against all the odds, and was the first woman to become a member of the Florentine Accademia di Arte del Disegno.

Finally, the word pazienza is not in my vocabulary and I've often said it should be banned in Italy as it is too often used to excuse inefficiency by the very victims of that inefficiency. However, when pazienza is employed to create great or small works of art, I wish I had it so, as we are coming up to Easter, I would like to express once again my admiration for The Palm Lady.

I hope you've all had a wonderful festa della donna!

CEDRO, CEDRO....

Cedro, cedro,

on the stall

is the biggest

of them all!

Well, this was the biggest cedro [citron] I had seen for a long time and it was on display outside a greengrocer's on this opening day of our annual ChocoModica festival.  I love cedri, both to eat, with seasalt and to cook with, so the sight of this one really cheered me up.

The chocolate festival, as you might expect, features lots of chocolate stalls, selling bars of all flavours, from banana to chilli to more traditional types and there were all kinds of chocolate products on sale, including liqueurs, cosmetics and even chocolate arancini [rice balls].  During the four days of the festival, there are also exhibitions, talks, tastings and demonstrations though I must say access is a problem to some of them and this needs attention.

You can watch chocolate sculptors and makers at work, though a finished chocolate sculpture would have been nice to see alongside those in production.  Perhaps that is to come.  I was fascinated by the fruit carving below but the highlight for me remains the cedro!

ChocoModica runs until 11th December and the full programme is here.

SLIGHTLY ITALIANISED PUMPKIN PIES

First of all, Happy Thanksgiving to all my American readers and friends. I hope you have a great day.

As you see, I've made some pumpkin pies and, though I say it myself, they're quite good!  [And yes, I have been lucky enough to taste pumpkin pie in the US.]  Now, the recipe I trust uses cream and milk in the filling but, as cream in America is thicker than the cream available here, a few years ago I experimented with mascarpone and, with a little [unwhipped] Italian whipping cream added, the pies turned out fine, so that's how I make them every year now.

I usually cook the pumpkin flesh down but this year I managed to find a can of pumpkin purée in Catania.

So here you have them - my slightly Italianised pumpkin pies:  

Buon Giorno del Ringraziamento!

A FESTA WITH FRIENDS

I was delighted to be invited to watch the Festa del Sacro Cuore procession from my friend Marisa's balcony on Sunday and here she is with her husband [with me in the centre]:

The procession takes a slightly different route every year so that, if you have sufficient Sicilian pazienza, you will eventually see it from near your home!

There are those who scoff at the Mediterranean habit of carrying saints' statues around towns and villages but to that I would say that it is no bad thing to gather together in peace and spread a little joy.  Everyone is free to join in the prayers that are said along the route, whether from their balconies, sitting rooms or down in the streets - or you can just watch and enjoy the atmosphere. And, if you were a statue, wouldn't you want some fresh air once a year?

We had a little party on Marisa's balcony and of course, there was pizza. Then there was Marisa's cake and I had made some marshmallows to take along:

Grazie, Marisa!

REPUBLIC DAY PORK WITH CHERRIES AND GINGER

This recipe gets its name simply because I invented it today, which is the Festa della Repubblica holiday in Italy.   It's also the 11th anniversary of my arrival to settle in Sicily with my dog Simi, who will always be in my heart.

As it's the cherry season, I decided to use some with pork loin [lonza] and, as I like fusion cooking, to spice it up with ginger.  Here's what I did:

Pork loin with cherries and ginger

To serve four people generously, you will need a 1 kg piece of rolled pork loin [lonza]. Either ask an Italian butcher to season it for you with some garlic and herbs, including thyme, or rub it all over as best you can with a cut clove of garlic, some seasoning and some mixed fresh herbs yourself.  Ask the butcher to enclose it in butcher's netting or tie it in the normal way with cooking string. Grate a knob of fresh ginger all over it.   

Put the lonza in a glass dish and add 200 ml Prosecco, 1 tablesp pomegranate molasses,  freshly ground coarse seasalt  [I think Himalayan pink salt works best] and freshly ground black pepper to taste.  Leave in the fridge to marinate at least a couple of hours or overnight if you like.  I must say, I am becoming quite a fan of using Prosecco instead of dry white wine in marinades and I like using pomegranate molasses so much that I have to resist the temptation to chuck it in everything!


When you are ready, put it all into a small, foil-lined roasting tin.  Peel about 12 shallots, halve them if large, place them around the pork and cook for 45 mins at 180°C . Baste the pork occasionally and cover with foil if you think the top is browning too much.  [It is not meant to look like a British roast!]

Stone about 30 fresh cherries and put these in a pan with 2 tablesp. pomegranate molasses and another grated knob of ginger.  Just before the cooking time is up, bring  this mixture to the boil, stirring, and simmer for 1 min.  Pour it over the pork and let it continue cooking for another 5 mins at 150°C.


Remove the pork from the oven, let it rest 5 mins, then snip off the netting or string   It will be perfectly cooked. Slice it thinly and spoon the cherries and some of the sauce over it.  Place the shallots around it. Serve the rest of the sauce separately.  You can also garnish the pork with a few sprigs of thyme.

Buon appetito.

This is a variation on lonza recipes I have featured here and here.

A BIT OF A DO

I'm not known for my monarchist leanings but it would have been churlish not to dress up for the Queen yesterday, wouldn't it?

After all, one has to hand it to the Queen!

And over at London Town, Modica - Centro Linguistico Internazionale, we decided to have a bit of a do. Many thanks to Cicara Caffeteria and Delizie D'Autore.

The Queen arrived a day late because she couldn't fit us in yesterday. But today she popped in for a nice cup of tea and our students had some questions for her.

These included the most important question of all which is, of course, a culinary one!

Buon compleanno, Maestà!

SICILY SCENE REVISITED - AROUND THE ISLAND

Continuing my nostalgic journey through Sicily Scene's archives, I began to think about the many lovely places I have visited on this ever-fascinating island.  I have no doubt about my favourite - it is the Valley of Temples in Agrigento and I especially enjoyed this visit.  One of the most unusual events I have attended was the annual Easter display of "bread arches" at San Biagio Platani and I hope to get there again one day.  Then there is the Infiorata in Noto [coming up soon], which I try to attend every year and of course I love Catania! These are but a few of the island's treasures and there is always something new, somewhere, to discover.  But I think one of the most interesting trips I have taken was this early one, so I'll repeat the first of a series of posts on it here:

On the Nelson trail - 24th January 2007

About 37 miles northwest of Catania, tucked away in the shadow of Etna, lies the town of Bronte, the dukedom of which was bestowed upon a certain Admiral Horatio Nelson by a grateful King Ferdinando [III of Sicily and IV of Naples] in 1799. A little further on still is Maniace, where the former Benedictine Abbey became known as Il Castello dei Nelson. And that is where I have been today. It is a lovely and impressive place, as I hope the photos will show - much lovelier than I had anticipated. I should like to be able to tell you that England's saviour lingered there in the sun with his Emma - and many Sicilians believe that he did - but, alas, he died without ever having seen it. The first of his descendants to arrive there was his niece Charlotte, who, reaching it after a truly nightmarish journey, decided that it was not to her taste and stayed only three days! [More the fool her!] It was later used by other members of the family but under agrarian reform in Italy in 1961 much of the land was redistributed. The Nelson family sold the castle and park to the Comune of Bronte in 1981.

There may, however, be another British connection: the Rev. Patrick Prunty or Brunty, father of another Charlotte plus Emily, Anne and Branwell, changed his name to Brontë in 1802. I like to think that he did it as a homage to Nelson then added the diaeresis for effect and the dates do tally. By the way, I am not of the Mrs. Gaskell school of thought with regard to Patrick Brontë for I do not believe that he was a monster: he saw that his children were educated, encouraged them to write and cared for Branwell tenderly during the latter's last illness. I am also of the opinion that the main reason for his opposition to the Bell Nicholls marriage was concern for Charlotte's health, and in this he was, tragically, proved right. But I digress. Let us at least hope that poor, bereaved Mr. Brontë found some comfort in his name in the winter of his life. I wonder what, if anything, he knew of the little town in faraway, sunny Sicily? He was a well-read man, so it is possible that he knew something....

I now have to confess that I made this trip the lazy way. It would not be possible to get to Bronte and back in a day using public transport, so I hired a car and a driver. This is not a particularly cheap thing to do in Sicily but it was cheaper than staying in a Catania hotel overnight and, more importantly, saved me kennelling Simi for a night. ["And I should think so, too!" she is saying as she sits beside me, waiting for her walk.] This, again, is something the Sicilians need to sort out: no one will use Modica or anywhere else as a base if they can't get around. Not everyone wants to hire a car, as even if you are used to driving in Italy, to do so here is, at the very least, challenging! The best thing that towns of Modica's size could do to encourage tourism would be to organise escorted trips to places of interest such as Bronte.

But let us return to our hero. Nelson, me old hearty, I've always thought you looked terribly lonely all the way up there on that column. So next time I'm in London, I'll sit in the National Gallery's restaurant, gaze across at you and tell you all about your Duchy of Bronte today. How's that?

More photos - and more, and more - in a minute!

Here are links to the other posts about this visit:

On the Nelson trail - 2
On the Nelson trail - 3
On the Nelson trail - 4
On the Nelson trail - 5
On the Nelson trail - 6
On the Nelson trail - 7


I hope you enjoy them.

EVENING FESTA

On Sunday evening a friend invited me to enjoy the festa del Sacro Cuore - the parish festival organised by the little church on the corner, which I hold in great affection - from her nearby balcony and I was delighted to accept.

The festa consists of special prayers and religious services and then, in the evening, the statue of Christ is carried around the district to joyous music and with a crowd following it.  On the route, people put up charming little altars where the procession and passers-by can stop for a moment to pray or think. An hour or two later the statue is brought back to the church, to the accompaniment of even louder music but the celebrations are not finished yet!  Christ is taken for three speedy turns around the square before he can rest!  Then the fireworks begin and I must say, what Modica lacks in population it makes up for in producing noise on these occasions.  

Luna Rossa, a Renzo Arbore cover band, played in the church courtyard throughout the proceedings and were still going strong when I left, just before midnight.

My friend, her family and I also enjoyed these magnificent pizze, from left to right, a wild boar sausage and rocket one [which I hadn't tried before and which was delicious] a Margherita and a capricciosa:

A cynical stranger might say,

"Is that it? A few stalls, a band and a statue being carried around?"

This, however, would be to miss the point, which, apart from the religious aspects of the event, is to be together.

Luna Rossa, Renzo Arbore Cover Band - Luna Rossa

TEN YEARS IN SICILY

Today is the festa della Repubblica in Italy and the tenth anniversary of my arrival here to settle so I am re-posting the account of that day that I published on this blog in 2006. I have added some reflections at the end:

Friday, June 02, 2006

L'ANNIVERSARIO DELL'ARRIVO!

Diary extract from 3.6.05
Modica, Sicily, Italy - at last!

Events of Thursday, 2.6.05:
Couldn’t bring myself to have a last ( for some time) cooked breakfast as I was feeling all churned up. Stuck with the fruit and toast (outrageously priced, by the way).

Got the 10 am courtesy bus as planned, and Martha [my friend and neighbour, who had surprised me a few days before by announcing she was coming to Gatwick to see me off, making her own way there] was waiting for me just inside the terminal.

I had posted a few things – non-urgent documents plus the books and little things I’d bought in London – to myself c/o Linda, so I did manage to get most things in the case and therefore didn’t have to check in my in-flight bag. They marked the case “heavy” but I didn’t have to pay any excess as the flight was not full. I asked about Simi at check-in and they said I should enquire at the gate. I had phoned Airpets earlier and she had been sent to the airport and was OK according to them. [Incidentally I think it’s terrible that you can’t have your pet with you in-flight, even in the carrier ; I wouldn't mind paying for two seats! After all, no one puts babies in the cargo area! But vets would say that it is less stressful for the animal to be in that darkened section of the plane; just more stressful for the owner!]

Then Martha and I went off and had (very early!) gin and tonic and crisps in the pub there. It was so good of her to come. The flight was boarding at 12.35 so I went through at 12. Martha told me not to look back so I didn’t.

Got a bottle of water for Simi as I thought I mightn’t be able to leave the taxi driver to get one at Catania and, anyway, might have to go upstairs for it which would have taken ages.

The gate number came up a bit late and when I got there I immediately asked about Simi. The gate staff told me to sit near them and they would check. But I had to wait till all the other passengers had checked in at the gate! The gate staff can’t see that you are anxious about your pet! Eventually a ground crew man came along and I asked him if he could help me. He knew all about Simi and said he had just given her water. He took me to the window to see her crate being loaded. Oh, my darling! Such a little crate it looked from up there, carrying all that I hold dear in it! I nearly cried. Simi’s mummy was still not satisfied, however, so I sat back by the gate ladies and asked them to double-check that she had been loaded safely. Then the co-pilot came along and he said she was a bit nervous – my poor love! – but had water and would be fine. A kind Scottish woman was waiting to board and she said she empathised as she had once flown a Westie from Scotland to London; not so far, but she knew how I felt!

Once on the plane, I spoke to the captain, who was standing at the front talking to the co-pilot and another male crew member. They were very kind and said Simi would be just under where we were standing. I felt better, knowing exactly where she was. (If you are reading this and are not a “pet person” – or maybe you have never lived alone with an animal – you probably think I am mad; but to me Simi is like my child, you see.) But every time there was turbulence, I thought, “Oh! My sweetie!” and tried to tell her telepathically that her mummy was near.

After a passable meal for an airline – a bit of pork escalope, I think it was – I was so tired that I slept most of the rest of the way. As we came into Catania, I did not see Etna this time, but felt the familiar surge of emotion as we touched down on the soil of this most beloved land.

I spoke to the captain again as I got off and he assured me that Simi was being unloaded. (Another of my fears was that they would forget and take her on to Malta!) I bet they were glad to see the back of this anxious woman who only cared about her dog!

For once the luggage came out quite quickly and also, for once, mine was not the last case to appear!

Then the taxi man was there with a card with my name on it; he looked relieved that I spoke Italian and he knew about the dog. He said he would take me to the Scalo Merci [where I had been told to collect Simi] in the car as it was a fair way from the terminal – and thank goodness he did as it would have been at least a 30-minute walk – and there a woman took my details and subsequently took ages to enter everything into a computer. I was getting worried and started to pray silently; the driver sensed it and asked if there was a problem. “Oh, no”, said the woman, “it’s just that I have to calculate the charge.” (I had been told that there would probably be a local charge.) I explained to her that this dog really was my family and she smiled and speeded up a little. I was thinking, “This is going to cost hundreds” – and I wouldn’t have cared if it had – when suddenly she finished and announced, “Two euros twenty”!! So that was the local tax to bring my precious Simi into Sicily!

Finally they brought Simi out, in her crate on the back of a truck, and she looked so worried! Her fur always turns just the slightest shade darker when she is unwell or stressed – probably only I would notice it. But as soon as she saw me and smelt my finger through the cage she wagged her tail and was normal. I asked the driver if I could have her in my arms in the back and he said that was fine; then I had the cage open, Simi was in my arms and I was kissing her and telling her, “Sono la mamma, Simi. Siamo in Italia. Siamo in Sicilia.” The driver laughed and asked if she spoke Italian so I said of course! Then I put her on the lead and she was raring to go again! I had the water for her but she didn’t want it. She just sat in my arms, occasionally sleeping and occasionally looking out of the window. Cara Simi!

The taxi man was so nice and kind and we chatted. He was from Siracusa and had visited London several times. He offered to stop for Simi but she was OK and we pressed on. I spoke to Linda on the mobile and she said she would come and meet us once we were over the second bridge. (There are two bridges to lead you into Modica, one of which is among the highest in Europe.) So I called her again then and we stopped outside Bar Fuscia to wait for her. I got out with Simi to let her stretch her legs and much interest she caused among the local dogs! Then Linda and Franco arrived and we followed their car in the taxi.

At Linda's I gave the driver a good tip and she gave him a drink. Then he was on his way, happy with his evening’s work and his tip. Franco took a delighted Simi for a run round the garden on her lead. We all sat outside for a g and t and Linda presented me with a lovely basket full of food, coffee, tea, mineral water – and a bottle of gin and one of tonic! There was also a home-made photo collage of Modica with benvenuta written on it - I am going to frame it – and a bunch of beautiful roses from their garden. After about 30 minutes, Marco, Giovanna and children arrived and we all travelled in procession to the casetta.

Marco and Giovanna had also brought food so I am well supplied. I have:

Linda's Modican pizza
Oregano
Sun-dried tomatoes
Lettuce
Fresh tomatoes
Eggs
Fruit from the various gardens
Oil, vinegar, salt
Sugar
Coffee and tea
Mineral water
Biscuits
Pasta
Tomato sauce
Bread
Cheese
Butter
Franco's home-dried figs
Capers
Almond milk

So much kindness!

Simi was a bit nervous when we got here; I think she thought I was going to hand her over to these [to her] strangers! But once they had gone and we were together she relaxed.

The casetta is of stone and is in the old town. It’s a bit cave-like downstairs. It has a shower downstairs, a rather rickety but functioning fridge, a sink in the kitchen area and one in the tiny bathroom, a table and two benches, an old easy chair and a very small unit with a marble top. Upstairs is lighter with the bed and a wardrobe, plus a shelf that I am using now for the laptop and some others that I am using for cosmetics. The stone, twisty stairs are banister-less and so a bit treacherous but Simi soon got used to them! And the house is blessedly cool. Oh! I forgot to say that there’s a gas burner powered by a bombola of gas: I am afraid of it but Linda says it’s a rite of passage, for everyone starts off with one of these here! I’ll have a go at cooking on it tomorrow.

After everyone had gone, Simi and I went to bed and slept well, despite the noise of the mad motorini till at least midnight!

Epilogue:

Simi and I spent five weeks together in the casetta [little house, which belonged to my friends Marco and Giovanna] in the old town and she was my stability then as she was in the ensuing years. I never did get to grips with the gas bombola [cylinder] and was so scared of it that I gave up after about a week and ate out or existed on cold food, which is no hardship in Italy. Then we moved to the apartment where I still live.

About three months after our arrival, I received in the post a receipt for the €2,20 tax I had had to pay at the airport to bring Simi into Sicily. On it she is described as "goods":

Reflections in 2015

In ten years in Sicily, I have known much joy, great kindness, some cruelty, serious illness and several crushing blows, the hardest of which was the loss of Simi on January 8th this year. On the morning of her death, I found it very difficult to be driven to Linda's house again, clutching her little body. This was because Linda and Franco wanted to join us for the burial. I kept remembering arriving there that evening, ready for adventure, when Simi was still a young dog and I was a much younger and more naive woman.

The Italy I live in now is not the Italy I fell in love with as a student back in 1969, nor is the Sicily of today the Sicily that so enchanted me on my first visit in 1992. The economic crisis has taken its toll, here as elsewhere, leaving a trail of heartbreak and turning reasonable people into unreasonable beings. I would say that, for an expat woman of a certain age who is unprotected by family, money or perhaps by working for an international company, it can be a harsh environment - and I write this as an Italian graduate and as someone who has studied and loved Italian culture all her life. But would I go back? If Italy is not the Italy I once knew, Britain is not the country I left. There is still much to enjoy about living in Italy and I have a feeling that long after me, the crisis and the EU, when Italy's remaining ancient buildings have all but crumbled around the populace - but they won't, you know, for they will save them just in time - Italians will still be showing the rest of the world how to eat, how to create beauty and how to live.

Simi's pet passport photo - my favourite picture of her.

SABATO MUSICALE

Today is the festa della Liberazione.

Gruppo popolare e solisti dell'Oltrepo Pavese - Bella ciao

CHOCOLATE TOWN

Over the past few days, Modica has once again come into its own as the chocolate capital of Sicily with its ChocoModica festival. It's not as big or as international as the Eurochocolate or Chocobarocco festivals used to be, is well organised nonetheless and actually, I found it calmer and more enjoyable. Mind you, I left at 7:00 pm and, as the last shuttle bus to Modica Bassa is scheduled for 1:00  am., I imagine things are livening up down there about now!

There were several exhibitions about chocolate-making and its history to attend, and no end of chocolate objects to gaze at or purchase:

You could decorate your tree with chocolate objects. "What balls!" says the label and yes, the expression does have the same naughty meaning in Italian!

Or maybe you fancy a chocolate silhouette or cameo?

Take your pick from these ideas for presents:

I thought this was cute

but my favourites were the chocolate caffettiere:

There was also chocolate-flavoured pasta. [I've tried this and found it good:  the chocolate taste is not overwhelming.]

I just had to have orange and chilli-pepper chocolate ice cream! Well, wouldn't you?

And finally, nothing to do with chocolate, but I like these Xmas angels that have popped up all over Modica. I could do with an angel right now.

A pleasant festival for everybody.  Well done, Modica!

CROSTATINE DI ZUCCA

I'd never made pumpkin pie before and had expected it to be a nerve-wracking task. However, I was determined to have a go this year as I wanted to make tartlet versions for London Town Modica, Centro Linguistico Internazionale.

We can't get canned pumpkin here and sometimes pumpkin takes ages to soften, but this time all went well. Although I'd consulted lots of recipes, in the end I guessed the cooking time for my mini pies and I was really pleased with the way they turned out!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING !

BUON GIORNO DEL RINGRAZIAMENTO!

FEASTING WITH MY SISTER

My sister had found me after 64 years, she and her husband had flown to Sicily to be with me and now it was up to Sicily [and me] to pull the culinary stops out!

Last Friday morning we had coffee and extras with international friends. There were some very British sandwiches and some very Sicilian almonds

and lots of other treats as well:

Later we succumbed to gelato at the Marina

and later still I decided it was time for Sicilian fast food in the form of focacce, arancini and a pasticcio [pie]:

On Monday we enjoyed a special feast with friends

and had a very jolly time:

On Tuesday I arranged a festa so that all my friends and students could meet Jill and Paul and if I'm having a festa there have to be Welshcakes

and a tipsy cake , along with my chocolate thingies. And why not some chocolate and lime truffles too?

 I left the rest of the catering in the capable hands of Bar Cicara and they did us proud:

The Pasticceria Delizie D'Autore  made the wonderful cake, to my design. It bears the flags of the four countries the occasion united - England, Wales, Italy and the USA [I'll explain the US connections in another post] - plus a windmill to represent Jill's home county of Norfolk, UK and Modica's famous clock tower.

And we finally got to cut it!

There's no better place than Sicily for a welcome and some fine feasting!