AT LAST...

... Something is ready to come off the production line. I have flavoured my olives with:

juice and grated rind of 1 orange

some lemon slices

slices of garlic

sprigs of fresh thyme

sprigs of dried oregano

a dried chilli pepper

pink peppercorns

coriander and fennel seeds

a bay leaf

olive oil





Sicilians like to put some thinly sliced carrot in the jar but I don't think this adds anything to the taste.





Now to start the next batch...

IF YOU CARE ABOUT ANIMALS...

...please read this article and consider signing the online petition. Thank you.

THE YELLOW "BLUES"

I am not referring to the colours of an Italian football team or to the EU flag, but to the corporate colours of the Italian Post Office, which, although I wrote that it had much improved a few weeks ago, has managed to depress me yet again!

Today it took me one hour and forty-five minutes to pay my gas bill in there. [This was the bill for part two of last winter and it was enormous, so that hardly lifted my mood either.] I had tried to get the deed done yesterday lunch time, for usually the place is quieter during that period, but gave up after one hour. Irma, who happened to be there too, walked out after ten minutes, so I don’t think I displayed a particularly un-Italian lack of pazienza when I threw in the towel !

This morning I arrived there armed with a bottle of water and a [long] book and, after taking my “ticket” [oh, how the Italians love “il ticket” and I could understand this affection if the possession of one made the slightest difference to the speed at which you are served] I settled myself down for the duration. My ticket said “C105” – ie, that you are there to pay a conto corrente [bill] and, when the next “C” number is displayed on screen, you should be able to work out how many people are ahead of you. Well, I waited and waited and “P” numbers for postal services came up, as did “H” numbers for post office account holders, numbers for business customers and numbers for “pensionati” to collect their state pensions, which are paid out by alphabetical order of surname at the beginning of each month. Today was "F &G" day, which is not as bad, here, as "A & B" day, but you know you are in for a long wait if you have to carry out a transaction on any "pension day". [The PO was closed on the 1st, for Tutti i Santi / I Morti, which has not helped the process this month.] I am truly sorry to say that the pensionati are half the trouble, though it is not their fault, as collecting their due seems to require a myriad documents, signatures and [literally] official rubber-stamping on these. But do they get annoyed? – They do not, for they seem to regard it as a chance to meet friends and as a joyous day out! Every now and then one of these old dears will mistake the letter on their ticket, amble up to the counter and say, “But I thought it was my turn” and the clerks often decide it is quicker to take pity on them than argue. Well, no “C” numbers came up for an hour and eventually what I hoped would be a rebellion began, as a group of women shouted at a clerk, “Ma perché non si mostra mai il C? Noi siamo qua da due ore – non è giusto!” [= “Why doesn’t the C ever come up? We’ve been here 2 hours – it’s not fair”] and I joined in this cry, because I’m buggered if there is going to be a revolution without me!

The poor clerk just replied that she couldn’t help what her computer did but she did seem relieved when it started showing “C” numbers. Of course, we were only on about number C 65 at this stage so I was plunged into despair anew as I realised that the belligerent women had calmed down and the revolution was for another day.

By 1pm, the building was nearly empty but still, you see, you had to await your “magic number” and as the harassed woman clerk kept pressing her computer button to bring up the digits on the display board, she started using the intervals when no one appeared to gossip to her colleague instead of pressing the button again to bring up the next number! I was at screaming point by then, and had even closed William Hague’s biography of Pitt the Younger – I was rather thinking of throwing it at a clerk or at least one of the computers – when the elderly gentleman next to me started clapping his hands and shouting at her, “Signora, non c’è! Avanti!” [= “That person is no longer here. Get on with it!"] I could have kissed him!

However, when my turn did come, reader, I got the nice male clerk with the smile and the sparkly eyes – and for that I forgive Poste Italiane everything!

SALT OF THE EARTH

Sicilian sea salt is very, well, wet and comes from the salt pans between Trapani and Marsala. Only ancient, traditional methods are used to produce the salt and it can take 100 days to yield 6 cm of the precious mineral. It has a taste that reminds me of the grey sea salt of Brittany, though it is possibly a little stronger. There is nothing like it to perk up your cooking!

Maybe you can just see, in the photo, that the crystals of the Sicilian salt, on the left, are larger and a little greyer than those of the Welsh sea salt on the right. I like to have my miniature container of Welsh salt around, as I like miniature versions of everything. [Whoa there, Mutley!!]

It is, of course, no accident that Roman soldiers were paid partly in salt - greatly valued as a preservative in those times - and that from sal we derive the word salary. British English has the expressions "worth his salt" [worth what he is paid], "salt away" [to save money] and even, in parts of Wales, "a bit salty" [a bit too expensive].

These were the thoughts that ran through my mind this morning as I was salting, for the last time, the particular batch of olives that I am processing at the moment.

THE JOYS OF IMPERFECTION

I am reluctant to use this lovely, heart-shaped potato but use it I must. Such a potato would not be sold in Britain - not in a town shop, at any rate - but there it was, nestling in the middle of the string bag of potatoes I bought today.

Misshapen potatoes, uncurvy cucumbers, knobbly peppers, angular aubergines - all contribute to the joy of being here. Imperfection can be charming in humans, so why should it not be thus with regard to foodstuffs?

MALÈNA

Set in World War 2 Sicily, Malèna [Giuseppe Tornatore, 2000] begins as the story of a young boy's infatuation with the most beautiful woman in his small town. Renato [Giuseppe Sulfaro] watches Malèna from afar, fantasises about her and dreams of her. Indeed, beguiled as I am by Ennio Morricone's haunting score, I regard the film, in some ways, as a "hymn to adolescence".

But it is much more than that: as the war progresses, Malèna [Monica Bellucci], always detested by the women of the town because of her beauty, falls upon hard times, culminating when her husband is reported dead. The women take revenge by forcing their shopkeeper husbands, who have previously admired Malèna's looks, to deny her any of the diminishing food supply. Eventually the desperate Malèna takes a German officer as a lover and protector, a decision which, with Liberation, causes her to be treated as all known female collaborators were: she is set upon violently by the townswomen, has her head shaved to mark her out and of course, no one will help her.

Note that I used the word "decision" in the above paragraph: the jury will always be out on whether becoming a collaborator in this way is a "decision" or whether the women had no choice, if they wanted to live. In times that were unimaginably difficult for everyone, it seems to me to have been easy for women who were, at least, protected by marriage to have judged the "Malènas" of the world. One of my specialist subjects at university was the literature of France and Italy during that period and I long ago concluded that, in occupied countries, there were few heroes among the non-combattant population: there is a myth that there were, but Le Chagrin et la Pitié [Ophuls, 1971] comes closer to the truth. Collaboration, you see, could happen on so many levels that it is very hard to define it: in some ways, if you just did your job and lived your daily life as best you could, that was collaborating. We would all like to think we would have been heroic but the reality is that the majority of us might just have tried to keep our heads down and get through it. That, admittedly, is a long way from the "active" collaboration of sleeping with the enemy, but who among us really knows what we would do in order to simply survive?

Whatever your thoughts on this weighty matter, if you are interested in Sicily and in this period, I urge you to seek out this film: beautifully shot, it is a reminder not only of the joy and pain of being young, but of how human beings behave in extraordinary circumstances, and in particular - perhaps sadly - of how cruel women can be to other women. You'll be pleased to learn that there is a sort of reconciliation at the end.

MALENA

This is one of my favourite films set in Sicily. I'm going to tell you all about it in the next post!

NABUCCO

I've been having terrible trouble with youtube tonight, and would have liked to have been able to get the aria Un giorno sol on as well, but it just won't load. The words of that aria, I think, describe exactly how benevolent you feel towards other lovers when you, yourself, are in love and how painful it is when you "lose that enchantment". Librettists, I believe, receive scant praise! Anyway, you'll have to make do with Va, pensiero. I like this treatment - there is something about the juxtaposition of the classically trained voice and the rougher one of the pop star that touches me and I like Zucchero's take on the words. Va, pensiero was, by the way, a favourite of my Dad's.

Và Pensiero

NOVELLO

Move over Beaujolais nouveau [OK, I know you’re not on sale until 15th November] – here is Sicilian novello! 2007 Italian novello wine officially went on sale at 00.01 this morning. Novello is red wine from the current vintage , usually bottled within a few weeks of the harvest. It has a fruity taste and should be drunk within 6 months.

This year grape-picking began 15 – 20 days earlier than usual due to heatwaves and drought in Italy. Production of this wine is down by one million bottles as compared to 2006, because of the temperamental weather conditions. This is ironic given that its popularity is increasing rapidly, although there are purists who dispute its status as a “wine” at all, because it is not aged. Another scandalising factor, for them, is that these wines are often served chilled.

The wine in the picture is from Corleone and, according to the label, tastes not only of the fruits but of the flowers of Sicily.

As to whether wine needs to be aged, I’ll go along with a Sicilian proverb on this:

Tuccanu lignu,
è vino binignu
= “As soon as it touches the wood [of the barrel] a wine becomes good”.

Next week I am invited to a friend’s house to celebrate the opening of his own novello.

SOMETHING I WANT HERE...

Yes, it's the black pair with the red heel detail on the right and the pretty matching bag. [Sorry about the quality of the photo: I was standing to the side of the window, on which the sun was shining, in order to avoid getting my own reflection in it. I probably looked rather furtive!] There is a lot of red and black around this season - very Paloma Picasso - and I am glad to see the return of black patent leather. Sigh! - I don't think even I could walk for long in heels of this height.

Metallic accessories are still in and, for the first time, I have seen gold daytime bags displayed in autumn. There are also still studs all over many bags. Personally I don't go for these as you only need one to fall off and you have an unuseable accessory. I also find that they don't go with the sort of jewellery I wear.

Plaids and checks are everywhere, especially on shoes and I am delighted to see fewer kitten heels [bloody nuisance things].

Some time ago I mentioned that it is virtually impossible to find an ordinary, serviceable shopping bag here. I think this is because everybody drives and so they don't need such an item. But in many shop windows at the moment you see bags labelled "Shopping" - and whilst they are, admittedly, large, they are expensive, elegant and would not last a moment if you were to attempt to stuff your food purchases from the market in them!

A THOUGHTFUL STUDENT

There is no doubt whatsoever that tomorrow, I Morti [the Day of the Dead] is a festa in Sicily but no one is quite sure about today: schools and offices have been closed, as have chemists, whilst most shops, though not all supermarkets, have been open. Raffaele the hairdresser has been open as normal today but will close at 2pm tomorrow - he usually stays open through the siesta hours on Fridays and Saturdays - and my local supermarket will be open as normal tomorrow.

However, a student who came for a private English lesson this afternoon was in no doubt that today is a festa, although she is working, and brought along this tray of cannoli and sfinci [sweet fritters]. Therefore I have declared it a festa too. Auguri!

PRODUCTION LINE UPDATE

The chopped quinces have been strained and their liquid added to the alcohol mixture for the liqueur [picture 1]. I decided the concoction needed a little lemon juice so added that as well. I'm so glad to get the bowl of quinces out of the way as it was taking up a whole shelf of fridge space!

I have to wait until Tuesday to put the olives in water and vinegar for 24 hours: after that I can flavour them.

Pesto is a versatile ingredient and I always make the green variety. I'd like to be able to tell you that I dutifully grind everything in this [picture 2] but I don't; I whizz it up in this [picture 3]. This works well provided you remember one thing - don't add any oil till the end. This morning I whizzed together: 3 oz fresh parmesan, 2 garlic cloves, about 60 fresh basil leaves, 2 small packets pinenuts, a little coarse seasalt, and enough olive oil to obtain the texture I prefer, which is quite a thick one. Pesto keeps well in a jar in the fridge but it does lose its bright green colour. It does, however, freeze beautifully and that way I always have a standby for a pasta sauce. As I've mentioned before, pesto also marries well with potatoes that have been roasted in olive oil.

I do buy red pesto and 2 types are available here, one containing chillis and spices whilst the other has anchovies added. Pesto is, of course, the invention of the ever-resourceful Genoese but the southern Italians have made red pesto their own. According to John Dickie, in Delizia, pesto did not originally contain pinenuts and could be made with basil or parsley.

A NEW TACTIC

A tragedy regarding would-be non-EU immigrants to Europe via Sicily and Calabria has, for once, caught the attention of the British media: During Saturday - Sunday night, which was one of force 8 gales, a 30-metre fishing vessel carrying around 150 people, 12 of whom were aged between 12 and 17, broke into 3 sections off Roccella Jonica in Calabria. 7 are dead but it is not known precisely how many are missing. The survivors claim that all the passengers were Palestinian but this fact has not been confirmed. [It is thought that the passengers may have claimed to be Palestinian so that they would have a better chance of being offered political asylum.]

During the same night 9 clandestini were drowned off Siracusa. Another body was found today. At least 8 others are missing.

The people traffickers, it is reported, have, for the past couple of months, been using a "new" tactic of bringing their poor, desperate passengers most of the way to Italy in a "mother ship" and then cramming them into inflatable dinghies that may or may not reach the shore.

2 such "mother ships" were blocked at Porto Empedolce [Calabria] on Monday and 27 scafisti [traffickers] have been arrested. 4 others have been detained at Pachino.

These journeys have been called viaggi di speranza [= voyages of hope]. They so often turn out to be voyages of tragedy.

WELCOMING THE WINTER - 2

Here are the food pictures from Sunday's lunch. My goodness, it's difficult to take photos of whole dishes of food when Italians are involved, as they pounce on them as soon as they appear at the table! - There is no sedate waiting for everyone to be served, as in Britain:


1 - 3: Antipasti of ricotta, sun-dried tomatoes, olives , local hard cheese, salciccia, toasted local bread with cheese; scacce [focacce] and pasticcio; a dish of tripe for those who wanted it - I just can't!
4. Soup of mixed pulses. [I so want a serving dish like this!]
5. I've made chilli oil in Britain but had never put this many chillis in it! I'm going to try doing it this way. A dollop of this in your pulse soup is guaranteed to more than warm the cockles of your heart!
6. Primo [first course]: Fresh, homemade ravioli and cavatieddi pasta filled with ricotta and served with a sweet tomato sauce, a local speciality.
7 - 8: Main course: Involtini of pancetta and aubergine, filled with breadcrumbs, cheese and herbs; bollito of mixed meats.
9. Little chocolate puddings for dessert.




Later the limoncello and amaro came out, followed by coffee and we were there until 6 pm! What better way to greet a change of season?

WELCOMING THE WINTER - 1

My dear friends Roberto and Roberta, who will be away from Sicily at Christmas, decided to invite all their friends to a "welcoming the winter" get-together at the agriturismo La Tenuta Carbonara in nearby San Giacomo yesterday lunchtime. An agriturismo is a converted farmhouse that serves meals and sometimes provides bed and breakfast accommodation. Sometimes parts of the farm are still producing. First of all, I want to show you some of the interesting objects displayed in the lovely dining room:

1. Traditional bread or grain basket.

2. Wall of the converted room, showing where the animals would have been tethered.

3. Traditional olive jar. These now fetch quite a price at antiques markets!

4. Sicilian dresser - note the marble surface, so it has to be Italian. Note also the traditional lace decoration on the shelf edges. [Sorry about the glare here.]

5. These pretty objects were crocheted, then stiffened.

6. Hay forks found in the loft during the conversion.

7. Scales of a kind which dates back to Roman times.

8. Scales of a type which is still seen on the little trucks which sell fruit and vegetables by the roadside.

9. Kitchen implements, many of which would have been used during the making of ricotta cheese. The containers on the far right are called cavagne and they were used so that mice couldn't get at the cheese.

The food pictures will follow!

CHIARA'S PRODUCTION LINE

Friend Chiara has been making cotognata [quince paste]. As you see, she does not enter into the task half-heartedly! Tomorrow she will put the paste out onto the balcony to dry in the sun.

THE WCL PRODUCTION LINE

1. The olives, duly bashed, are now in a solution of coarse salt and water, which will be changed twice daily for 10 days.

2. The quinces for the quince liqueur have been grated and must sit thus for 4 days.

3. The alcohol for the liqueur has been poured onto bashed [I seem to be doing a lot of bashing lately] cloves, coriander seeds, cinnamon and almonds plus a little nutmeg [in the absence of mace]. After 4 days I will press the quinces through muslin and add them. After 10 days, the sugar should be added and the mixture left for another 10 days before straining.


By the way, if any Italian government bureaucrats are reading this post, the title does not mean that this blog supports a profit-making company! Se sta leggendo quest'articolo qualche burocrate del governo italiano, il titolo non significa che questo blog costituisca un'organizzazione imprenditoriale del lavoro!

MUSHROOMS AND MUSINGS

It doesn't take much to cheer me up here in Italy:

A super-long hug from Raffaele the hairdresser this morning. He has an uncanny knack of knowing just when I need this.

These lovely mushrooms in the supermarket.

And this complimentary tartlet which came with my coffee at the Altro Posto at lunch time - by way of an apology because they thought they'd kept me waiting.

SICILIAN GREMLINS

Gentlemen, avert your eyes.



Ladies, you know what this is....











Right, so how did it get into my sugar jar?!

You think you put things in strange places, Liz?