LONZA WITH CRANBERRY SAUCE AND CAMPARI

Here is yet another variation on a whole piece of lonza [pork loin]! This time I had decided I needed to use up the cranberry sauce I'd made just after Christmas, and had the idea of using it with lonza. I knew it needed a kick of something but couldn't think quite what. Then, in the middle of the night, I thought of campari. I didn't have any in the house but the owner of the bar opposite was happy to give me some in an espresso cup! Here's what I did:

Ask your butcher to make a few incisions in a 1.5 kg piece of lonza so that you can insert slices of orange in them. [This time you don't want the lonza in butcher's netting.] When you get the meat home, insert half an orange slice in each incision, along with a leaf of fresh sage and a couple of rosemary needles. Rub over some coarse seasalt [I used pink Himalayan salt] and a couple of grindings of mixed peppercorns and tie the lonza at intervals with kitchen string. Put it in a dish and pour over the juice of an orange and 200 ml white wine. Marinate in the fridge for 2 hours or so, turning once.

When you are ready to cook, turn the lonza back over and place it in a smallish roasting pan lined first with foil and then with baking parchment. Pour the marinade over it and cook for 1 hour at 180 C.  [Italian ovens tend to be fast so I turned mine down to 160 C half way through cooking.]  Baste the lonza after half an hour.

Just before the cooking time is up, mix about 200 gr cranberry sauce with the juice of another orange and half an espresso cup of campari. Place in a shallow pan on the hob and cook, stirring. When the mixture bubbles, turn the heat down and keep stirring for another 2 mins. Pour this over the pork and give it another 5 mins in the oven.

Cut off the string, carve the pork and serve with the sauce.

Serves 6 - buon appetito!

SABATO MUSICALE

Sanremo 2014 begins next week and last year's winner, Marco Mengoni, has this week released this lovely Spanish version of the 2013 winning song, L'Essenziale. I hope you enjoy this as much as I do:

Marco Mengoni - Incomparable

"NOW I'M 64"

And the only way to deal with it, I've decided, is to view it as the new 35!

I've had a pleasant day, with lots of lovely greetings from friends.

Simi sneaked out by herself in the week and got me these jimjams:

No birthday in Sicily is complete without some local pastries, including, as it's Carnevale, some chiacchiere:

Naturally, I have had to play me this song all day and inflict it upon others, having waited 47 years in order to do so. Ah, how impossibly old 64 seemed way back then! The "many years from now" have flown by and, although some of them have been hard, including the last one, I've lived long enough to know that we should be grateful for every one of them.  

Here's to you, dear readers.

The Beatles - When I'm 64

BOOK REVIEW - "ITALIAN WAYS" BY TIM PARKS

Italian Ways: On and Off the Rails from Milan to Palermo by Tim Parks
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

There are some writers whose style is so pleasant, whose humour is so gentle and to whom you return so often that you feel you know them personally; to sit and spend an hour in the company of one of their books is like chatting to your dearest friend over a cup of tea and they have that rare talent of making you think without distressing you. Among my "comfort writers" I would number Alexander McCall Smith, Maeve Binchy and, when it comes to books about Italy, Tim Parks.

It is difficult to point out the disadvantages of living in an adopted country without causing offence but Tim Parks is one of the writers who has always managed it and he does so again in "Italian Ways". This is not a travel book, though there are elements of travel writing in it, nor is it about life in any one part of Italy: rather, it is about the author's journeys on Italian railways over a period of some thirty years and his encounters with people, conflicting systems and bureaucracy in the process. Through these stories, we also gain a fair knowledge of the history of the Italian railway system and the trains that run on it - a lesson presented in a most entertaining way.

No reader who knows Italy will fail to identify with Parks's dealings with the "pignoli" - whom we would call "Jobsworths" in Britain - of Trenitalia and other operators and I had to smile at his descriptions of southern resignation as he travelled down Italy.

Yes, Mr Parks even made it to Modica by train and, disappointingly, has little to say about the town. True, as he himself has said and as I have said above, this is not a travel book, but I hardly think it is fair that Lecce gets more space than Modica. Of course, I could be biased! Or could it be that Tim Parks, as he travelled deeper and deeper into the South, became more southern himself?

"Don't be concerned that you may have nothing to say about these places. Just be here, on the journey, at every moment of the journey."

- Very southern Italian and not a bad philosophy of life, really!

View all my reviews

This review is also posted on Goodreads.

FEVER SOUP

Red onion soup made with brodo [stock] is an old Italian cure for colds and flu and when I was feeling poorly last week I knew that onion soup was just what I needed. I didn't have any red onions and lacked the energy to go and get some but I did have some white ones. I also wasn't really in a brodo frame of mind, so I decided to concoct my own onion soup using passata. [I like the rustica type that is a bit thicker]. Here's what I did:

For 1 - 2 people thinly slice 6 medium white onions and chop 2 cloves garlic, then soften them very slowly, in a heavy pan, in 55 gr butter and 1 tablesp olive oil.  This will take about 15 mins.

Now, what's this lovely stuff?

It's coarse seasalt flavoured with lemon zest and mint and I found it in Catania at Christmas. I've been dying to use it so in some went!  You can of course just add normal seasalt, some grated lemon zest and chopped herbs of your choice. Add a good grinding of mixed peppercorns, too.

Now add 680 gr passata or homemade tomato sauce. Simmer, stirring, for about 20 mins.

To serve the soup you can put buttered toast in the bottom of the bowl if you like, but I just added some small squares of ordinary bread as it reminds me of the soups I ate as a child. Don't we all need to think of being cossetted when we're unwell?

I felt heaps better the next day. It could have been the medication the doctor gave me but I'm convinced it was the soup!

SABATO MUSICALE

I've always enjoyed the piano music of Ludovico Einaudi, so here is some for all of you:

Ludovico Einaudi - Stella del mattino

A TO-DO AT THE DOCTOR'S

Having given in to la febbre on Wednesday, on Thursday I reluctantly took myself to the doctor's; "reluctantly" firstly because I'm British and we carry on and secondly because of the inevitable wait that the occasion would involve.

In my doctor's surgery there is a collection of numbered metal discs on a desk by the door and a notice asking patients to take one, but no one does as this would be too much like organisation and would also limit the possibilities of social discourse. Sicilians think it is much more fun, after you have passed the time of day with all your fellow-patients individually, to look around and ask, "Who's the last one?"  L'ultimo having piped up, you know who you have to watch, and watch is what you do, for no magazines are provided and no one takes along anything to read.

If, however, one of the "patients" is wearing a suit, sitting in a self-assured way and has a bulky briefcase at his feet, you know that your wait will be even longer than usual, for this is a pharmaceutical company rep and one of these gentlemen is allowed to go into the consulting room after every two patients.  This system seems most unfair to me when there is a roomful of sick people but "Pazienza - What can we do?"  Yesterday my heart sank when I saw not one, but two self-assured gentlemen with bulky briefcases in the waiting room and summoned my reserves of hard-learned Sicilian resignation.

Just after I had arrived, a couple came in and asked the usual question, "Chi è l'ultimo?" The elderly man next to me was about to say that he was when a woman dashed in and said the honour was hers, explaining that she'd been outside.

"If you're waiting you can't be outside", said the elderly man, continuing, with unarguable logic, "because inside is inside and outside is outside."

At this everybody except me - I still felt too ill - joined in, all at the same time, of course and one patient shouted,

"Anyway, how do we know you were outside?"

That did it!

"Are you doubting my word?" asked the young woman in a horrified tone.

"No", chorused the company, "we're just saying that inside is inside and outside is outside and you should be inside because how do we know you're inside if you're outside?"

By this time the wife who had started the whole thing with her question was on the phone to her daughter, relating the incident in even louder tones than the shouting and everybody else had turned to the person next to them for confirmation that outside was outside, an assurance which was given at full volume in every case. One of the reps had completed his sales spiel to the doctor, too and, when he left the consulting room, silence suddenly fell as we all held our breath for a fight over who would go in next - the elderly man or the inside-outside woman. But Sicilian chivalry won the day:

"Si accomodi, signora " ["After you"], said the elderly man with a dignified nod of his head, looking around as if it was the most obvious course of action in the world and as if he was wondering what we were all gaping at.

Just him and one more rep and I was in, too!

IN WHICH I SUCCUMB.....

I have been fighting a cold for a few days - ever since, on Saturday, we experienced what Sicilians term "a hurricane" but would just be thought of as " a bit of wind and a shower or two" back in Cardiff, UK.  The lack of proper double glazing and the ease with which water seeps through balcony shutters makes for miserable conditions indoors though nothing, of course, like those caused by the floods taking place in some areas of Britain at the moment.

Yesterday my cold developed into what I had to admit is la febbre and, according to Sicilians, this means I should be in bed under a pile of blankets and hotwater bottles. However, I am still British enough to defy them right up to head-spinning point and then even I had to come home, cuddle up with Simi and give in gracefully.

While I was perusing some death proverbs for Monday's post, I came across a few to do with illness that made me smile and here they are:

Cattaru, vinu cu lu carru - For catarrh, you need wine by the cartload.

Marva ti sarva - Mallow will save you [also said about sage in some versions].

Ogghiu di cumuni, sana ogni dolore - Normal olive oil cures everything.

Cu havi a frevi,  macari u meli ci sapi amari - Even honey tastes bitter if you have a fever.

Pri la rifriddatura cci voli nidi di picciuna - To get rid of a cold, you need a pigeon's nest [ie., the warmth of your bed].

And finally, just to cheer myself up as I edge nearer to my three-score and ten:

Quannu lu mali è 'nvicchiutu, mancu Ippocrati cci pò dari aiuti - When the sick person is old, not even Hippocrates can help him.

BORN ROUND.....

I've never been to the town of Misterbianco in Catania Province although its name has always fascinated me. Disappointingly, it only means "white monastery" so there is no "Mr White" floating about in those parts. In recent days, however, I have been consoled by the thought that if I don't manage to get there in life, I may well do so afterwards, for the town's cemetery is to become the first in Eastern Sicily to offer cremation facilities. They are not going to stint on it either, with a crematorium in a space of 2,000 sq metres, a green area and a special room for the Committal.  

A couple of years ago, someone professing to be my "friend" told me I should start thinking about my funeral and I must admit, I was somewhat taken aback.  Italians can be disconcertingly direct when it suits them so I asked another Italian friend whether this could be considered a normal thing to say. He assured me that most Italians would not even make such a suggestion to a 95-year-old. 

Funding has already been guaranteed for the Misterbianco project and, from the end of April, the town's council will begin evaluating three bids for the work, which should be completed one year after the decision. Meanwhile another crematorium project is envisaged for the main cemetery in Catania but no funds have yet been guaranteed. As "a year" in Sicily can mean anything from a decade to a century, I think I'd better disappoint my erstwhile friend and attempt to hang on!

Just for fun, here are a few Sicilian proverbs about death that I have found surprisingly comforting:

Ogghi a ttia rumani a mmia, siemu tutti 'n cumpagnia - You today, me tomorrow; we're all in the same boat.

Morti e malasorti dovunque vai sempri ta puorti - Wherever you go you take death and misfortune with you.

'A morti conza ogni cosa - Death fixes everything.

Cu' nasci tunnu nun po' morire quadrato - If you're born round you won't die square [the implication being that if you're born stupid you won't become intelligent].

How cheering!

SABATO MUSICALE - FOR VERA

A departure from Italian music today as two events this week brought this song to mind: one was Vera's story for Holocaust Remembrance Day and the other was the death of Pete Seeger, which made me think of The Weavers and Ronnie Gilbert's version of the song. It is about Chile but I would like to dedicate it to all the Disappeared, to the displaced and, in particular, to Vera Vigevani Jarach and her daughter Franca:

Ronnie Gilbert and Holly Near - Hay una Mujer Desaparecida

MIGRATION UPDATE - AN ARREST AND A MEETING

Cold winds and rough seas have lambasted Sicily for most of the past week but the weather conditions have not discouraged desperate migrants from beginning their perilous journeys towards the island's shores, which they regard as a gateway to a better life in Europe.

On Wednesday night the Italian Navy intercepted a mother ship intending to transfer migrants it was carrying onto a small boat off Siracusa and 15 crew members were arrested on suspicion of being people traffickers. They have today been brought to Catania, where they have been detained.

On the same night, a naval helicopter spotted a fishing boat in trouble off Portopalo di Capo Passero and 175 migrants, including six children, were rescued from it and also taken to Catania. All but one, who is suffering from hypothermia, are reported to be in a satisfactory medical condition. These migrants were from Syria, Egypt and Iraq.

Meanwhile, this weekend sees an unusual gathering at Lampedusa Airport, where representatives from charities, migrants' associations and others who have the welfare of migrants at heart will attempt to draw up a Lampedusa Charter - a charter for migrants' rights and, it is hoped, for the world: an impractical dream or a true vision for the future? What do you think? You can follow the event on the Melting Pot site.

A DUBIOUS HONOUR

Oh, dear, it's that statue of the Blessed Pope John Paul II again! The memorial, unveiled outside Rome's Termini Station in 2011, has been criticised since that moment, with the face being likened to that of Mussolini and the body to a "bloody big hole".  The open cloak gesture was meant to represent this beloved Pope drawing everyone in and loving them but it just doesn't work. The folk at CNN seem to agree and now the statue features on their list of the world's eleven ugliest monuments - a dubious honour if ever there was one.

Even though the statue has had a makeover and the lines are a little softer, it hardly evokes the idea of welcome and bears little resemblance to the late Pontiff. I still think our Giovanni Paolo statue in Modica is better!

A LITTLE SOMETHING.....

One of the pleasures of Italian life  is to be able to go into almost any bar an hour or two before it is time for a main meal and ask for a plate of stuzzichini or appetisers. These are really appetisers before your main meal appetisers, I have to remind myself, as everyone around me will partake of a three-course meal later, probably at home.

The stuzzichini in my local bar are particularly good on a Saturday evening and you get a mini dish of pasta and a generous bowl of crisps too!

HOLOCAUST REMEMBRANCE DAY 2014

International Holocaust Remembrance Day

Giorno della Memoria

Journée internationale dédiée à la mémoire des victimes de l’Holocauste

Yom HaShoah

In the run-up to International Holocaust Remembrance Day this year, I have been following, on the Corriere della Sera site, a series of short films about the life of Vera Vigevani Jarach: This remarkable 86-year-old lady left her native Italy for Argentina in 1938 with her family, after the passing of the Italian Racial Laws which discriminated against them as Jews.  Her grandfather stayed behind and died in Auschwitz in 1944. 

In Argentina, Vera married and worked as a journalist but her only daughter, Franca, disappeared in 1976. It was only recently that Vera found out what had happened to her: detained for her militancy, Franca was pushed out of a plane on one of the "death flights" of the period.  Thus Vera has had no graveside at which to mourn either her grandfather or her daughter.

These two stories, in Vera's words, have made her into a militante della memoria. One of the founding madres de Plaza de Mayo, Vera believes that her role now is to bear witness and to do all she can to prevent such events ever happening again.

The two films in the series which struck me the most were the one in which Vera goes to talk to students at the Milan school which she herself, as a child, was banned from attending and the one in which, with an Auschwitz survivor, she visits platform 21 in Milan Central Station, the platform from which the trains bound for Auschwitz left.  [The platform now houses a Holocaust museum.] If you understand Italian, I urge you to watch these films.

Vera's story, "from the Shoah to the Disappeared" as Corriere entitles it, proves the truth of these words from the Stockholm Declaration:

“With humanity still scarred by genocide, ethnic cleansing, racism, anti-semitism and xenophobia, the international community shares a solemn responsibility to fight those evils.” 

“Di fronte ad un’umanità ancora segnata dal genocidio, dalla pulizia etnica, dal razzismo, dall’antisemitismo e dalla xenofobia, la comunità internazionale condivide una responsabilità solenne nella lotta contro questi mali.”

- The Stockholm Declaration / La Dichiarazione del Foro Internazionale di Stoccolma sull’Olocausto, 2000.

SABATO MUSICALE

Amid more headlines featuring a certain Gallic love rat, it's nice to hear a song about a man who has loved the same woman for many years. Luciano Ligabue dedicated this song to all women, and, in particular, his partner, Barbara and released it on the International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women in November.

Luciano Ligabue - Tu sei lei

WHAT'S IN A WORD?

It's been a depressing couple of weeks for women d'un certain âge, what with the Gallic love rat story and then having Kate Moss pictures pop up everywhere - enough, if you are not armed with a sizeable current account, to make you want to give up, really. After all, even the irrepressible Silvio is ensconced in a Lake Garda beauty salon as I write and one can't help wondering if he'll emerge looking like Joan Rivers.

We lesser mortals must do what we can and when a girl has to buy a bra she has to buy a bra, so it was onward and upward [hopefully] for me as I headed for the bra sale yesterday. I had regarded this as a chore and certainly did not expect the experience to cheer me up, as in the UK it's only all right to be a C cup or above if you are Nigella. Here, though, it's a different matter and I was quite pleased when the assistant called my bosom abbondante and proceeded to bring me some very pretty specimens.

Abbondante is so much better than "big"!

MIGRATION UPDATE - A PROTEST

The sea at Pozzallo

As individuals Italians, it must be said, are kind to migrants landing on these shores. When those same migrants meet officialdom, however, the story can be rather different and they often find themselves living in desperate conditions with no news of what their fate may be.

Such a situation was what migrants in nearby Pozzallo protested about today and they managed to block traffic along one of the town's beautiful promenades for around an hour at lunchtime, reports the Corriere di Ragusa. They were supported by volunteers from several charitable organisations and committees that are trying to help them.

The migrants, who are being held at the Reception Centre in Pozzallo Port, say that they are sleeping on the floor on old and malodourous mattresses, that there are not enough bathrooms and that they are not living but existing in prison conditions. Worse, some of them have been in the centre for two months and have received no news of what is going to happen to them and no reports of the progress of their applications for documents which would enable them to leave Italy. They say that if they do not receive these documents soon, they will protest again.

Even though 50 migrants have now been transferered from Pozzallo to other centres in Italy, it still leaves the Pozzallo centre, built for 150 people, overcrowded with 270.

  

Certainly, as I've said many times before, Italy needs help from the EU as a whole but meanwhile human beings whose only "crime" has been to seek a better life need to be treated with humanity.

IN HIS CUPS?

Reading this article about "buttock-cupping" and other "cures" on the BBC site today made me smile and reminded me that I once saw something similar in Sicily: 

Some years ago a friend's son had a nasty chest cold and my friend got him to bend over and breathe deeply, then placed heated glass cups, open end downwards, all over his back. Next, she massaged his back with warm olive oil. After this, the lad was wrapped up in fleecy pyjamas, a fluffy dressing gown and as many blankets as could be found in the house and was sent to bed with half a dozen hotwater bottles. My friend who, like many Sicilians I know, prides herself on hardly ever switching on her central heating - they prefer to sit around in their own homes in jacket, muffler, cap and gloves in deepest winter - did switch it on that night.

Needless to say, in the morning the young man was fine and I'll never know whether it was some magic property in the heated cups, the olive oil, the deep breathing, the unaccustomed warmth in the house or just sweating the cold out but who am I to question something that works?

ADDIO AL MAESTRO

Today the world of music mourns the conductor Claudio Abbado, who has died in Bologna at the age of 80. You may like to know that his mother, Maria Carmela Savagnone, a piano teacher and children's writer, was from Palermo and the maestro was very proud of being half Sicilian. He is fondly remembered here for bringing the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra, of which he was then chief conductor, to Palermo's Teatro Massimo on the occasion of its reopening in 1997, four days before its centenary, after a 23-year closure for renovation work.

Here is Claudio Abbado at the Teatro Massimo in 2002:

G. Verdi - I Vespri Siciliani Overture: Claudio Abbado

SABATO MUSICALE

Soon it will be time for this year's Sanremo Festival so here is another great performance from last year's winner, Marco Mengoni, in Taormina:

Marco Mengoni - Non me ne accorgo

CORN DOGS AND COLOURS

MasterChef Italia logo - Wikipedia Italia

Thursday night, as I mentioned at New Year, is teley night in this household and I sit for two hours glued to MasterChef Italia with the programme's twitter hashtag column open on my computer so that I can join in the commenting as it progresses. Sometimes the twitter stream goes so fast that you can't read the comments or even "catch" one to read and I follow the programme's facebook updates at the same time but all in all I thoroughly enjoy the multimedia experience.

I also enjoy, as many of you will remember, the comments of Messrs Joe Bastianich, Bruno Barbieri and Italy's "sexy chef" Carlo Cracco and they have certainly delivered a few surprises during this series! The series has produced some very interesting characters among the contestants, too and the one I like best is a 68-year-old gentleman from Cremona, Alberto. Alberto, it was clear from the first episode, likes the ladies and the ladies, including this one, like him, to the extent that there is quite a battle for his heart taking place on twitter! Another character is a Moroccan lady called Rachida who has not yet managed to get through an episode without crying and who has whole teams of supporters and detractors on social media. I'm not quite sure which camp I belong in yet and change my mind at least twice during each programme but on the whole I think I'm pro-Rachida.

Last night's episode was the best yet, in my opinion and was particularly interesting for me because it again showed how suspicious Italians are of any food that is not their own.  American chef Graham Elliott - whose name was strangely pronounced throughout the programme as "Gram" - showed us the menu he had cooked in his Chicago restaurant for President Obama's birthday in 2010 and then the contestant who had won the previous test had to choose which of these she and her rivals would cook. By this time the twitter stream was full of comments like, "But do they know what they're eating, these Americans?" and when "Gram" showed us his lobster corn dogs, explaining that they're a bit like hot dogs, only fried, it went wild as viewers all over Italy expressed their horror. [Believe me, the discussion was much more animated than on any election night!] I thought the funniest was when someone tweeted a photo of a worried-looking Obama, one hand pressed to his temple, with the comment that the President must have been remembering what he ate at "Gram's" place.  Fortunately, perhaps, the contestants ended up cooking a corn bisque.

Later, the contestants were taken to the Caserma Santa Barbara, home of the Milan Polo Club, for the outdoor, team challenge, in which each team had to cook a set menu for the spectators, who afterwards voted for the better team. Judge Joe Bastianich got the job of interviewing and looking after the spectators and seemed fascinated by the ladies' hats [as well he might have been, for I was fascinated by his!] "Of course, the polo's best at Engadina", one elegant lady told him, provoking a torrent of sarcastic twitter comments. One man, like me, just wanted to know where the hell it was and now a Google search has revealed to me that it's in St Moritz. [A girl needs to know these things.]

Alas, the team led by my beloved Alberto lost this week, so the poor man had to do the "pressure test", which involved cooking a perfect aubergine parmigiana in 15 minutes. When he presented his dish for judgement, he was asked why a man of his age wanted to win MasterChef when he'd already lived his life. Why would he want a life-changing experience now? I don't like the implication, often made in my own country too, that in trying to live life to the full, the old are somehow robbing the young of opportunities, so I was on the edge of my seat as Alberto replied,

"We always have something inside, although we grow old. To continue to express ourselves or to dream. Because dreams are in colour and I want everything to still be in colour, until I die."

Not a dry eye in the house or on the twitter stream and Alberto is through to the next round!

Congratulations, Sky Uno and MasterChef Italia, on a great episode.

SPEECHLESS IN SICILY

It takes rather a lot to render me speechless, but that's what I am tonight after reading of a gaffe by Italian politician Jole Santelli on a television show today: Miss Santelli, a member of Mr Berlusconi's Forza Italia party and a former undersecretary at the Ministry of Work and Social Policies, rather undermined her argument that controlling immigration has nothing to do with racism by slipping in the comment that black people are more fortunate than others in Italy because they don't have to wear makeup. The Integration Minister, Cécile Kyenge, who was following the programme via video-link, has not reacted but, as you may imagine, the remark caused quite a twitter storm. 

SPEZZATINO OF PORK WITH LEMONGRASS

It's not often that I find fresh lemon grass in Sicily but I did find some last time I was in Catania. In its honour, I invented this recipe:

Spezzatino of pork with lemon grass

A note on the spezzatino cut:  When I first came to Sicily, I found the cubes of meat that butchers would cut for spezzatino too big and I used to get them home and cut them again. Over the years, though, I've got used to the bigger pieces and, if you want to make a pork spezzatino, a good butcher will give you pieces with a fair bit of fat on at one end. They believe that this is good for the flavour and they are right.

In a wide pan, soften 1 sliced white onion in 4 tablesp olive oil, then add 1 kg pork pieces for spezzatino and brown on all sides - about 10 mins.  Add 3 chopped lemon grass bulbs, season the mixture with a few grindings of mixed peppercorns and some coarse seasalt, then add water to just cover the meat. Add 2 dried chilli peppers, 2 teasp dried sage and 2 teasp dried oregano and stir. Cover and simmer for 1 hour, turning the meat now and then.

Fish out the chilli peppers and serve.

Serves 4.

SABATO MUSICALE - A SICILIAN TALENT

Fouteen-year-old Rachele Amenta, from Vittoria [Ragusa Province] has, I think you will agree, quite a voice. She has become more widely known in Italy after appearing on the talent show for youngsters, Io Canto and yesterday left for her first visit to the USA. Let's wish her luck!

Rachele Amenta - Think

WHAT'S IN A NAME?

Pets here, although loved, are often not regarded as part of the family in the way that British ones are - that is, living indoors, with the freedom to wander, investigate and yes, if they feel like it, destroy at will - and I still have friends who expect me to put Simi on the balcony during their visits. 

"Sorry", I say [although I am not], "she's my baby and  no one puts babies on the balcony." This usually provokes the hands-in-air gesture which means, "Ah, well, she's British - pazienza" and a sigh of surrender. Simi, meanwhile, does not understand why my Sicilian friends object to having her sit on their heads so after they've gone I , in my turn, say "Pazienza" and explain to her that they can't help it - they're Italian.

We were both pleased, therefore, to read today that Aidaa, Italy's Association for the Protection of Animals and the Environment, has suggested that pet-owners bestow their surname upon their four-legged best friends and have it added to their microchips.  The main aim of this measure, says the Association, is to make our pets even more easily identifiable but also to make them officially and legally part of the family.

Simi, who on formal occasions always uses her full name of Simone Eggleton de Beauvoir, has this to say about it:

ON HAVING YOUR SANTA AND EATING HIM

The tree and decorations have been taken down and put away and it's all over for another year, God willing - but it wasn't over for me before two other feste had been crammed into the season!

On Sunday I was invited to Chiara's for lunch again and there we were treated to two kinds of lasagne, this one with aita [chard]....

... and this one which contained meat and tomatoes:

Then there was a spezzatino of pork:

After the fruit, there were dates and homemade torrone,

some of Chiara's Christmas cake and some special, traditional, handmade biscuits:

There was also Chiara's chocolate cake:

Yesterday was the Epifania holiday in Italy and I invited a friend to tea.  I made date and cinnamon cookies [top left]. I'd found the recipe in an Australian magazine and, although they didn't come out scone-like as the recipe suggested, they did resemble the photo in the magazine and tasted good.  To the right of them is a plate of crackers with my [tardily made] cranberry sauce, because you just have to have a taste of cranberry sauce at Christmas. In front of the date cookies is a plate of cheese bites with cotognata [quince paste]. I also cut up the last of my own Christmas cake and made yet another raspberry upside-down cake.

Putting the sugar Santa on the raspberry cake - and I assure you I bought six so did not use the same one each time! - I was reminded that, at Irma's on New Year's Day, a young niece of Irma's decided she didn't want to eat any cake but did want to demolish the sugar Santa.  "He won't come next year if you eat him!" said her mother, at which the little one started to cry.  "No, no, it's all right - he'll come!" we all chorused, until she smiled again and finished him off.  

I also made a semifreddo of candied Sicilian zest - and decorated it with the last Santa!

But never mind - in Italy it is always possible to have your Santa and eat him!

SABATO MUSICALE

This week I'm delighted to be able to say "Congratulations" to Welsh singer Katherine Jenkins on being awarded an OBE in the Queen's New Year Honours list. Well done, love!

Katherine Jenkins - 'O Sole Mio

NEW YEAR AT IRMA'S

My friend Irma always comes up with original and refined menus for special occasions and presents her dishes very elegantly so I was delighted when she invited me to lunch on New Year's Day.

To begin, there was couscous salad and that is potato that Irma has so cleverly cut into star shapes:

There were also home-cured olives

and these pastries which, sadly, I had to pass on as they contained fish:

There were spiedini, too - and we're still only on the antipasti!

The pasta with ham and mushrooms on a purée of zucchini was a triumph,

as was the main dish of tender pork:

Afterwards there were these little chocolate cakes

and orange peel candied by Irma's sister:

I made the raspberry upside-down cake again and was a little concerned because it sank in the middle a bit this time, but it's amazing what you can do with a few cake decorations!

Then there was a very special panettone

and an equally enormous pandoro:

As you can imagine, we were all very content by mid-afternoon!  Grazie, cara Irma.

FASHIONISTA

Simi wants to show you what was in the parcel:

AN ARRIVAL

No, it's not another royal baby or even 2014 [which Modica greeted, extremely loudly, last night]. It's these, which arrived via a kind friend in the UK, yesterday:

So, a little late but no less enthusiastically for that, I've been making cranberry sauce on New Year's Day!

Happy New Year again, one and all.

SICILY SCENE'S REVIEW OF 2013

As I've mentioned many times, it's been a bad year for me, so let's start with this:

My personal disaster of the year

It's been a year in which I've lived through several personal disasters but when my fridge seemed to give up the ghost recently it was the last straw and the air turned a very deep blue around here! 

But on to something more positive....

My gadget of the year

This contraption for slicing onions is a godsend! 

It comes from Lidl Italia, who, as purveyors of dried cranberries, have disappointed me this year, it must be said.

My books of the year
[not necessarily books published in 2013, but a selection of books that I've read this year]:

At the beginning of the year, I enjoyed the second volume of Cardiff man Ken Follett's Century Trilogy, Winter of the World.  Volume three is due in September and I am looking forward to it. But come on, Ken bach, can't you hurry it up a bit?

I also loved Simon Mawer's The Girl Who Fell from the Sky.

Malala's autobiography, which I read in Italian, was compelling.

For Christmas I received this and Simi and I are enjoying perusing it every evening:

My cookbook of the year is this one, by Italy's "sexy chef" Carlo Cracco - recipes, new ideas, tips and a true masterclass.....

.... which brings me to ....

My TV programmes of the year

Number one has got to be Masterchef Italia and the third episode of the third series goes out on Thursday night. That's two hours of compulsive viewing for me so for the time being I won't be posting here on Thursdays, folks!

Italian TV often gets slated but Rai does turn out some interesting drama series. Of the 2013 offerings, I thought one of the best was Volare - La Grande Storia di Domenico Modugno. Perhaps it's because I can remember how, even in Britain, we all went around humming the song!

I've become addicted to Downton, via a friend who is kind enough to lend me her DVDs. I have watched some episodes in Italian, but let's face it - Maggie Smith's withering lines need to be delivered by Maggie Smith.

Monday nights at 11.30 find me tuned to Sky News UK for the press preview by Kevin Maguire and Andrew Pierce ["Toryboy"]. The banter between these two really cheers me up and I am waiting for them to get their own series.

My recipe of the year

Of the recipes I have invented myself, the winner is this pasta dish.

Post of the year on this blog

The most-read post of 2013 was not about Sicily at all, but about my memories of visiting the Verdi locations in the Emilia-Romagna.

My non-feminist of the year award

The neighbour who obsessively dusts her clothes line was a contender and the young fiancée of a certain Italian politician comes close but I have to hand the award to Miss Miley Cyrus [assuming she can stop twerking for long enough to receive it].

Words I don't want to hear in 2014

Twerking and the name of she who does it; phubbing [ignoring people to look at your mobile phone all the time and I don't want it done to me, either]; decadenza because the expulsion of Mr Berlusconi from the Senate took forever and succeeded in keeping him in the headlines; scontro [clash] because in Italy there's always a scontro somewhere in public life. How about a helpful and peaceful incontro [meeting] instead? Pazienza - a word that should be banned from the Italian language, especially in connection with public transport in Modica! And I don't want to hear any more of Darrell, Pip, Rob or Helen [all on The Archers].

My hopes for 2014

That there be no more tragedies like this.
That there be peace.
My personal hopes are to be held, understood and not judged and to be granted more time with my precious dog, Simi.
May the New Year be kind to all of you and your loved ones, too.

And there's a hand, my trusty fiere,

And gie's a hand o' thine;

And we'll tak a right guid-willie waught

For auld lang syne.

Buon anno a tutti!