Pane Cunzatta

As I sometimes do on Sunday morning, I went into town and bought my own paper, and also the national paper that Paolo likes to read. Ignatzia had not been feeling really well in the hot weather, and I wanted a chance to stop by without her thinking I was there to get some of her wonderful eggplant, or bread, or fresh eggs, or home made sauce, or any of the other marvelous things she usually overworks to supply her family and me with.
When I got there, she was just taking fresh baked bread out of her wood fired oven. Her daughter Maria and Maria's husband were there helping. I think Paolo may have been finally banished from the oven room, as they always tend to speak loudly to each other in Sicilian when he is there, and the subject is usually how hot or cold he has made the fire for the oven.

At any rate, the bread was just coming out, and clearly they had not made as much as usual, but Ignatzia asked if I would like some Pane Cunzatta, as I do not think there was enough bread for her to offer me a full loaf, and have enough for her and Paolo and the three kids with families and anyone else who might stop by. Being shy about such things, I told her I would love to have some. She wrapped a quarter kilo of pane cunzatta in paper towels, and off I went. (that equals a half a pound).
Pane Cunzatta is a Sicilian specialty. One takes warm bread, slices it in half, and pours olive oil on it, salt, and anchovies. Some people also put freshly sliced tomatoes on it, and perhaps a little bit of Parmesan cheese. When Ignatzia makes it, the bread usually drips with the olive oil made from the olives from their trees. Fran's family called theirs oil bread, and it did not have anchovies, as they did not live near the sea. I understand that the folks in the Catania area are known to add ham to theirs. Of course I believe that Sciacca's is best, whether made by Ignatzia or by Panaficio American Style and the Colletti family.

The thing is, you have to eat it when the bread is at least still warm. So I hurried home and did.

The Fire This Time

Summer is the time of fires in Italy, including Sicily. Most things, despite what this picture might imply, turn brown as they dry out in the hot sun. After a very wet spring, there was a lot of green stuff to dry out, but dry out it did. Perfect for fires.

This fire occurred about a mile from my house, along the road into town. At first, it was brown smoke billowing out toward the sea, and then the smoke turned angry and black. It was getting near houses and parked cars. The fire department were doing their best, but they needed help.
Help came first in the form of a helicopter with a large bucket. He would dump water from the bucket onto the fire, then fly out over the sea to pick up more water, return within a minute or so, and drop another bucket of water. He made a lot of progress in putting out the fire, but even more help was needed.
The help came in the form of another helicopter, this one with a large tank on board, and a snorkel with which to refill the tank. He would take turns with the first helicopter dropping their loads of water where the men on the ground said they needed it most.

His first drop included a beautiful violet colored fire retardant, but unfortunately I did not get a shot of that one, although you can see a bit of the remaining color if you look closely.

After about ten more water drops by each helicopter, the fire was out, but the day was not over for the fire fighter. They had other fires to go to, as all of the fire fighting helicopters were used on this day, as well as some fire fighting Canadair planes. It is unusual to need two on one fire, but I was able to watch them work from my front terrace.

So remember, only we can prevent brush fires, even though it is fun to watch the helicopters picking up water and dumping it on the flames.

Pascal and Totò's House

I just happened to snap this picture when I was visiting Pascal and Totò one afternoon. I really like it, and I hope you do as well.

Medusa Sting

Every once in a while, Medusa come in toward the shore here. Medusa are jelly fish, and when they start to come to shore, it is time for swimmers to let them have their way, and get out of the water. Generally the Medusa do not stay for more than a day or two, and then you only have to be careful not to step on any dead Medusa drying on the beach. The reason for this is that Medusa sting. Oh boy, do they sting. And it hurts like fifty bee stings.

Of course there are two things you can do about a Medusa sting. The first, and easiest, is to have someone pee on it. Sometimes it is difficult to find volunteers for that duty, but if you do find someone, at least you have everything you need right there at the beach.

If you are unable to get the help you need, then it is time to go home and put some tooth paste on it. And do not worry about whether it is fluoridated, specially designed for sensitive teeth, cherry flavoured, anti plaque, or whitening. They all work just fine.

I am writing this because my friend Calogero Colletti (Charlie) and his wife Lucia were driving on the main road of Sciacca (115) which has two tunnels. As they were exiting one tunnel, going toward their home on the east side of Sciacca, a car suddenly tried to pass a garbage truck coming toward them. The tunnels are two cars wide. Period. There is not room to fit a third car, especially next to a garbage truck.

The driver's excuse was that she was rushing to the hospital because here grand son had just been stung by a Medusa, and it hurt. His arm hurt a lot more after that. And so did Charlie's and Lucia's. I am glad they had air bags, and that the air bags worked.

So even if you are stung by a Medusa, do not try to pass a garbage truck as you go to the hospital. It could be my friends coming toward you.

The Boys of SUMMER

I can always tell when Spring is almost over, and it is time for summer. That also means that it is time for the boys of summer to show up next door. Usually they are a harmless crew. They play some soccer on the soccer pitch, they borrow tools to fix their motos, they sit on the front terrace playing cards. Despite the noise of the motos, they are generally pretty quiet and respectful.

Well, one time they got out of hand. Wouldn't you know they had girls over (to cook for them no less), and braggadocio got the better hand of them, and there was a bit of damage inside the apartment. It was very quiet here for a while after that.

But they are basically good kids, and they treat me with good humor and respect, at least to my face, and I could not want more. I promised them I would put there picture up, so here it is.

Sigonella Picnic

Matt makes sure everything looks good

Every once in a while, my friends from 'the other side' of the island come to 'the good side of the island'. These are the folks who work for the US Department of Defense, most of them no in uniformed service, but rather as civilians, and they live outside the confines of the Naval Air Station, many of them on the slopes of Mt. Etna in Nicolosi.

The other weekend, my friend Rob came for a visit for a few days, and he was joined the next day by two other couples. They all ended up staying at the Bed and Breakfast nearby (Torre Tabia - excellent, and of course run by friends), but they also brought over hampers of food for a good old fashioned barbecue.

It was fun for me. I had forgotten about things like 'match light charcoal', indeed I had almost forgotten about briquettes. We use mostly charcoal that is made in Tunisia here, and shipped across the channel to us.

Suzanne and Rob getting ready to turn the cooking over to Matt.

Anyway, they had potato salad, other salad, baked beans. All was yummy. And I did not have to do a thing. Matt was the grill meister, and he grilled pork loins, chicken, and Italian sausage. The kids next door went wild, and seemed like them might even fall into the grill as they looked at the strange ways that Americans prepared meat. For me, the funniest thing was that they had bought and brought Italian Sausage that had been made in the US. Matt explained that in that was he was sure what he was getting because of the ingredient label.

Me, I just go to the butcher, show him the pieces of pork I want, watch him grind it, and then watch him stuff the casing. Simple as that. No preservatives. But then again the Italian word Preservativo means condom, so I really do not want any preservativos in my sausage here, not even around my sausage, thank you very much.

Anyway, preservatives or no, I did get my bacon and peanut butter, and had a great time with you guys. Come again soon. Sorry Jo and Christine, next time your photos will appear, almost as if by magic.

Planeta

When my friend Rob from Sigonella was here, and before the other Americans arrived bearing gifts of peanut butter and bacon, we decided to check out some wineries, or cantinas as they are called here, or more appropriately, cantine.

Anyway, we got over to the Planeta cantina, and my friend Alessio was just leaving the one in Menfi to go to the one in Sambuca. (For those of you who missed it, I described meeting Alessio in the post Italian Royalty, posted on February 1st, although it was supposed to be posted on April 1st. It is worth going back and reading.) Alessio left us in capable hands, and although we were not there for a tour, but rather just to buy some wine, we got a neat tour of the bottling operation.

Planeta has four cantine here in Sicily, each growing specific grapes in specific conditions to produce the wines they want to produce. The wines are then either barrelled or put in stainless steel vats for the pre bottling aging process. Sicilian wines are generally young wines, and it is usually the whites that are put only in vats. The reds spend some time in oak barrels, and some time in stainless steel vats. Every year, before the new grapes are crushed, someone from the Campo Forestale comes around to make sure that the vats have been appropriately cleaned, and are ready for the new grape juice.

Even though Planeta operates four cantine, they have only one bottling operation, as there is a lot of equipment required. They bring the wine ready for bottling to the Menfi Cantina for bottling and then for storage, labelling, and distribution.

We were there as the workers were taking their lunch break (it was not really a pranzo), and they just started the line going toward the end of our time there. They were bottling their 2007 Merlot wine, from near Noto, in the east of Sicily. The new bottles were all washed, dried, and then filled with the Merlot and corked. The corks, before they are squeezed and put into the wine bottles, are about twice the size of what we see when we open a bottle. It was really amazing for me to see how big the unused corks are.

Then the bottles were stacked in huge crates, where they will sit for six or seven months before labels are applied and they are ready for shipping. This avoids people getting wine that is 'bottle shocked', as someone at a winery in the California wine country called it, as she tried to sell us several bottles to cellar. Here, they cellar it for you for a bit, so that you do not open it before its time. Good idea.

We also got to see where they were bottling some magnums. I now have a dream of having a party, and opening a few magnum bottles of the Merlot for my guests. Those bottles are impressive.

We also got to taste the Merlot, before it was placed in the bottles. It was ready to drink as far as I am concerned, and I can not wait until it is ready to sell.

Thank you Planeta wineries and staff for a wonderful few hours watching you bottle wine, tasting your wine, and best yet, selling us a few bottles to take with us and enjoy with the others Americans when they came to visit. Yum.
And yes, my friends, these wines have been mentioned in Wine Spectator, and I have seen them in a few stores and restaurants in the US.

Morrocco??

Get used to these two faces. They are itinerant salesmen, who go to markets six days a week to sell their wares, and then go to beaches in the summer in the afternoon and on their 'day of rest' to try to sell some more and make a living. And they are legal. Fran and I got to know them, because they always seemed to have some interesting things to sell, not the usual market stuff like underwear, shoes, and towels of poor quality. They had neat purses, knock off purses, wallets, belts, and stuff too numerous to mention. We got to know the guy sitting down pretty well, and I visit him at Menfi market more Saturdays than not.

We talk about Islam, and he has gotten me to start reading the Qu Ran. He has also invited me to go home with him in October, and to be present at his wedding. It will be a four day trip by truck and ferry, and then I will fly back. He and his father will show me around. It seems an opportunity not to be missed. Thank you Kamel.

FAREWELL BLT

A bittersweet post, I guess.

We all have comfort foods, foods we miss when we are away from home, foods that simply make us feel better. Peanut Butter was a main comfort food for both Fran and I. The small jars for triple the price that are sold in a few markets here are nearly rancid when they are bought, and they do not believe in Chunky, which is, of course, the God of peanut butters.

There is another comfort food that I miss as well. Bacon. I mean good lean bacon. Not pancetta, which is not smoked, and not speck, which is poorly smoked. Good, lean, bacon. I have, of course, found a source bacon.

My mouth watered for a good BLT. I went to the ortofruitica (or fruitovendola if you prefer) to get the best possible local tomatoes and romaine lettuce. I consulted with my friends at panneficio Americana for the best bread to use.

I sliced the tomatoes perfectly, washed the lettuce, and tore it into appropriate size pieces. I cut the bread, lightly toasted it, and put just the right amound to mayonaise on it. Then I carefully, so very carefully fried the bacon. I used more than the usual amount of bacon strips, and even made one extra to eat just as a piece of bacon.

The bacon was wonderful. I put the bacon on the sandwich, and bit into it, waiting for the explosion of flavor of a perfectly made BLT. Well, I did get an explosion of flavor of BLT, and it was good. The lettuce was great, fresh and nutty flavored. The tomatos were that wonderful blend of sweet and acid that is true of only the freshest, most Sicilian tomatos. The bread was nutty and sweet. Let me see now, B is for bread. L is for lettuce. T is for tomato. Something is missing.

The wonderful flavors of the bread, lettuce, and tomato completely overwhelmed the poor little flavor of really good smoked, lean bacon. I could barely taste it. And I could not put together another try with the same ingredients, cutting down on the bread, tomato and lettuce. That would be heresy. Nor could I possibly add even more bacon, as it was loaded with bacon. And like I said, the bacon tasted really good.

It is just that the tomatoes, the bread, and the lettuce here is so good and flavorful, the bacon did not stand a chance. So I will have to wait until I get back to the states for a good BLT. For now, I will substitute bread for bacon in the BLT, and save the bacon for when I want to cook a few eggs or make pancakes.

BLT, I love you, but you just can not make a go of it here in Sicily.

School is out, and so is AGAPE

Agape does not operate its program for differently abled adults during the summer, but they always have a party in June, and I usually go to see my friends their, as well as their parents. I have chosen the picture above as the cover picture, partly because his mother asked me to, and partly because I could never get him to smile no matter what was happening, and neither could anyone else I know. Finally, his sad face reminds me of the sadness that all the clients seem to feel as they sense that they will see each other far less often over the next few months. The smiles on the staff faces, however, were real. They need, and are looking forward to some time off, even if the time off is taking a job in the summer tourist industry here.


Of course my buddy smiles no matter where he is or what he is doing, and it is his lightness of spirit that I most enjoy about going to AGAPE.

I suppose I should say something about why AGAPE is so important to me. First of all, I suppose, it is because I worked in special education for so many years, and indeed I do in some measure owe the happiness of my retirement to the years of work I put in with differently abled people.

Secondly, Paolo's daughter is a client.

But I think the most important reason is that it is truly a grass roots movement in a land that has few functioning grass roots movements. It is a great advocacy organization, and the parents continue to lobby the government for more services for this needing adult population. They have managed to get a good facility from the hospital (while it is barely on hospital grounds, it is set apart, so does not take on the aspect of a medical facility), wheedled a van from the some agency so clients not able to get to AGAPE on their own could be picked up, and have enlisted the services of speech/language, psychological, and therapeutic professionals beyond what the government will pay for. They maintain a large and active volunteer staff, including two master ceramicists from Sciacca, one of whom is the president of the ceramicist guild. On Sunday mornings they are in the parents and clients are in the main plaza selling the ceramic production of the clients to further support AGAPE.

I wish clients and staff a relaxing and envigorating summer.