Sicily: Same and Different

This September's program in Sicily was our first in two years, and in many ways we were unsure about what we would find. We were pleasantly surprised to see how Fabrizia Lanza is tending her mother, Anna Tasca Lanza's exquisite garden and cooking school. This was the first trip since the passing of Anna Tasca Lanza, great friend and renowned cookbook author, whose estate, Regaleali was—and still is, the centerpiece of our program.

We found some things changed, as things often are over time, and other things we found to be as expected. In the end, we left re-invigorated about Sicily and its future. The island's deep flavors and rough landscape is still unlike any other in Italy, and we were pleased to find that a younger, innovative generation is now carrying culinary traditions forward. We are excited to be on the crest of this new Sicilian wave, and look forward to bringing you, our guests, along for the ride.

One of my favorite global expressions is, "same, same but different." Here are a few examples of what we found:

Palermo was cleaner than I'd remembered and the view from our third story apartment revealed the myth that Palermitani eat way into the night. At midnight the streets were still lined with table after table and the grill was smoking away with large tenticled species.

Ristorante Francu e Pescatori is still alive and well. Still hard to get to, but well worth the trip into the underworld to find it. Chef Franco is as generous as ever, and passionate about his cooking and his ancestry. 

The mythical landscape of the Regaleali wine estate is the same "as it ever was."

Fabrizia set a table outside under Anna's Palm, and a blanket of stars. Dancing to live music in the barn on our last night, was a "first" at Regaleali.

Anna's garden is even fuller of forgotten fruits, pistachio, figs and flowers, than it was before. A legacy she left to Fabrizia who is caring for it and sharing it generously.

Modicans have always had a good sense of style. Good friend Innocenzo Pluchino, has put a simple, classic touch on his Beach Club, where the food equally matches the aesthetic in taste and to the eye. Bingo.

Bonajuto is still mixing and melting chocolate, but not just any chocolate and not just to any temperature. New flavors to us are being developed from recipes from the 1700s. Stay tuned.

Our new friends, the Padovas at Mastri Di San Basilio, showed us the simplicity of "materia prima" with the unadulterated tasting of their prestigious extra virgin olive oil, and the fine restoration of their country house, surrounded by 450 acres of verdese and maresco olives.

Wonders never cease at Catania's ancient Fish Market. Still alive with fresh starry-eyed fish, whole and separated into hunks of fresh flesh ready for a cooks able hand. Sights of purple cauliflower, mounds of melanzana, compact and shiny, ready to fry, grill, or put into a parmigiano. Fruit, innards, and various forms of cacciocavallo cheese, line the old market's streets.

We were delighted by our cooking class at Katane Palace. A fine place to stay in Catania's historic center. Smoked ventresca (which we smoked right in the kitchen, see photo above), fish stock, seafood risotto and tomato emulsion with gamberi crudi was just right. 

The home-made chocolate gelato helped the sun go down...

Join us next year to taste a bit of the old and the new in Sicily: September 6-13, 2012. 


* Photos by Merete Mueller. 

Catania, Sicily: An Endangered Market, Alive and Well.. for Now

The Fontana di Amenano, built by sculptor Tito Angelini in 1867, owes its name to the underground river it takes its water from. The jet that causes the water to cascade is nicknamed "the fountain of the blanket-like water." From here, one descends beyond the veil, down the stairs, into the belly of the Catania fish market.



Old men and young, stand behind make-shift stands in old clothes and rubber boots. The stone street is wet with water and the occasional fish gut. Fish of all kinds are huddled together in blue plastic tubs, wooden crates and buckets, and spread along tables in colorful forms of fishy madness, with the slaughter and sadness of a funeral parlor.

Bright eyes and bloody heads sit beside exquisitely butchered torsos of tuna and swordfish. Tiny schools of fish lay one dimensional on ice, next to neonatal neighbors of baby squid, whitebait and minuscule clams that squirt. Piles of ricci (sea urchin) lay on top of each other looking like spiky black stones, used for  Medieval hand grenades. When opened they display thin channels of briny gonads that we like to slurp up raw with a bit of lemon.

Lampuga is in season—beautiful grey and yellow mahi mahi. I can't say that I haven't enjoyed eating them as this week alone I've had them prepared raw with pomegranates, baked with tomato, red onion and capers, and pan fried with breadcrumbs.

Yet, I can't help feeling that we are raping the sea of its bounty and delicate balance. To think this happens nearly every day is astounding. Yet, it seems the Sicilians are partial to fish. It can be economical, throwing nothing away. One uses the bones and head with fleshy cheeks for broth.

We could tell the real fishermen from the ones who were not, as they only had their small catch of the day. They were few and looked hungrier. Their dialect strong and their faces, ruddy and weary.

And you may ask yourself... so why does she write about it so poetically?

The last time I was there, the tables were wooden. Now the EU demands stainless steel. The old, the new. Who will remain? The fishermen who fish? Or the fishermen who buy from other fishermen?
Or will there fish to fish? 

At least one thing is for sure, there will always be fish-kisses..

Sicily: Beach Club Bingo

Twenty minutes from downtown Modica is a golden beach with sand as fine as flour.

The Mediterranean sea lapped warm and shallow close to the boardwalk where I was met with open arms by my old friend, Innocenzo Pluchino, entrepreneur and chocolatier, who was once just a curious young Sicilian who loved to travel.

Now, he is a successful young man, who takes a keen interest in creating quality products and experiences. His Beach Club is a white washed building with an open porch with simple tables,  not unlike some of my favorite places on Bar Harbor Island in the Bahamas, or Barbados in the Caribbean.  There were no dunes on the beach, just a flat horseshoe bay that reflected blue sky and a tourmaline sea.

Francesco, my gypsy driver, stripped down to his speedo before leaving the bus, walked through the Beach Club and out the back door to the sea like he owned the place. He stuck his cigarettes in the sand and took a dive. Merete and I fell into the sea like a baptismal. We lolled for the longest time in what seriously felt like salted bathwater.  The Sicilian sun is strong. A rest under the umbrella brought a nice reprieve.

Innoncenzo invited us in for lunch.  I had asked only for a taste of a few small plates. They started arriving with poetic names like, Involtino di pesce spada in sfoglia di melanzana con cuore di ricotta all menta. "Sword fish rolled with a leaf of fried eggplant stuffed with ricotta and mint."

Tuna tartar with specks of orange zest.

Two types of spaghettini—one with ricci, sea urchin, and tomato.

The other with clams, green lemon from Siracusa, and whipped ground toasted almonds.

The taste of the sea was in our mouths, in our vision and under our nose. Tasca d'Almerita's "Leone" vino bianco was the perfect date—a chardonnay and Insolia blend—it gave a bright fruit forwardness to dance in tandem with fellow Sicilian flavors.

I was really impressed by the Beach Club. The chef is young and passionate, previously a pastry chef by trade and by family. Innocenzo recognized this passion and put him to work. You could feel his heart in the food.

I can recognize a certain note of happiness in myself when the stars line up around people, place and taste and today hit a high note. Bingo. An unexpected aria. The day was splendid—and free.

* Photos by Merete Mueller

A Poem, Under Anna's Palm

Here in a Sicilian courtyard,
under a palm
we speak of times past with Anna
in the garden and her beloved
forgotten fruits

the sorb apple, quince and mulberry

we bloody our hands with juice
and pick less forgotten figs high up
in the tree

we are surrounded by 1000 acres
of vines and olive trees with a canopy

of blue sky that fades slowly into
dusk with a pink blush that matches
the Rose' that we drink

for an aperitivo with a crostino
of fresh ricotta and anchovy

the night is as quiet as the moon that
promises to be full, for tomorrow will
bring more flavors to the forefront
to fulfill our Sicilian dreams.



Written in Sicily at Casa Vecchie, Regaleali, the wine estate of Tasca D'Almerita.

I have been visiting Anna Tasca Lanza for 15 years. Her daughter Fabrizia came on the scene a few years ago, to work in tandem with her mother. Unfortunately, Anna died a year ago, July, unexpectedly. I had last seen Anna in 2009 and had not been back to Sicily until this September. I felt quite sad to be without her there. Yet, Fabrizia filled her shoes so brilliantly, I thought surely that I must keep coming back, if nothing else to see how far Anna's trees had grown and taste the fruit from year to year. This simple poem is a tribute to her.  Anna not only left her trees to us, she left Fabrizia to carry her muse forward.

Anna's Passing~ Fabrizia Lanza

There is much to say about Anna Tasca Lanza. My affection and respect for her is immense. It will take me a while to digest and post a proper tribute.

Here is her daughter Fabrizia's moving account of her mother's last days for all of those who knew her.

.......................................*.............................................


Anna Tasca Lanza, my mother, passed away on the evening of July 12. It happened with no suffering at all, while she was sleeping.

In these last months I have been so very close to her that it is difficult for me to talk about her or about our relationship. I think that memories and feelings will rise up, floating like oil on water, little by little, every day now for the rest of my life.

Nevertheless, I would like to share some of my thoughts with all the friends who receive my newsletter and who know about our cooking school, which Anna built from nothing in 1989 and that I have been proudly pursuing since 2004.

The first sign of my mother's illness was that she was not willing to cook anymore. She completely lost her appetite, and when I went on holiday last summer, I found upon my return that Mum and Dad had simply stopped eating, a fact complicated by the heat, the loneliness, the loss of enthusiasm.... The moment I came back I suddenly found myself inverting the usual familial roles; I had to start cooking for my parents and found that it wasn't simple at all!

Mummy was fussy, like anyone who has lost her appetite and doesn't feel like eating anything but a very few and precious things. I realized I had to catch up with food, which in my childhood had meant comfort food for both of us, the food we used to eat on the blue table of the kitchen when Dad wasn't home (he hates peasant food!)...Anna and I, whispering and giggling together about anything we talked about.

At that point I realized that these comfort foods were the only things my mother would enjoy eating: capellini in brodo con la ricotta, spaghetti con la salsa, fave bollite, gazpacho, pasta con le zucchine fritte, minestra di zucchine e tenerumi, plus an endless variety of sweets, which she had always adored: lemon curd, taralli, blancmange, almond brittle, chocolate mousse. In fact, what she most demanded in her food was love, and I would use "all my love" as the main ingredient.

In her last month she was completely out of the world of food, managing only fruit juices and pistachio and walnut ice cream. She wouldn't talk, she wouldn't open her eyes. Now and then she would move her right arm or squeeze my hand very gently when I told her about my children, Ruggero and Virginia. I was afraid to experiment with foods because she very quickly got tired with our timid feeding temptations.

One day I decided I would dare something new, since she had always had a love for fresh, rather acidic and sweet flavors. With the fresh citruses from the garden, I made a lemon granita.

She ate it, and in a whisper she said, "Squisito."

This is the last comprehensible word I recall my mother saying. I love her so much for this last present, for being capable of appreciating quality and pleasure up to her last moments...I will never forget it.

How to temper chocolate the artisan way in Sicily

Why Sicilian chocolate is so good~

Photo's:
Glistening chocolate after the 'battatura'.
Graham Markel and Gianni.
Blissing out to the taste of warm, just mixed chocolate.
Father and Son. Franco and Pierpaolo Ruta.
The 'battatura'. How to settle the chocolate before chilling and wrapping.(2001)
Antica Dolceria Bonaijuto- Modica, Sicily (2001)

HAPPY SAN VALENTINO!

When I think of chocolate, my heart goes to the remote regions of southern Sicily. For 12 years, I have been swinging south to the Baroque town of Modica, to give ‘culinary adventurers’ a taste of Bonajuto’s Cioccolata Modicana, from the oldest chocolate factory in Sicily.

Franco Ruta and son Pierpaolo, owners and family of ‘Antica Dolceria Bonajuto, have records of the shop going back to 1880. They have stayed true to a culture of chocolate makers that go back not only to Spanish influence in sothern Sicily, but to the Aztecs of Mexico. In fact Bonajuto’s chocolate is like nothing you have ever tasted, but it could remind you of the grainy chocolate coming from the southeastern region of Oaxaca.

Crude chocolate from the Ivory Coast is brought into the shop as a mass of cocoa. It’s heated to around 113 degrees for half an hour, just long enough to melt the cocoa butter to be worked with other ingredients like sugar and spices, but not long enough to destroy any of the at least 380 flavor components packed within. (The norm is to heat for 2 days at 176 degrees). This temperature protects the volatile essential oils but leaves the sugar somewhat raw. The soft paste is then put in rectangular tins the shape of a chocolate bar, and placed in a wooden box. The box is then racked against the side of a marble work surface for the ‘battatura’. The battering or 'tempering' of the tins expels any excess air bubbles and makes it shiny and smooth. What seems like an ancient ritual, makes quite a lot of noise, surprising anyone observing. An artisan product keeps ‘hands ‘on the process. The end result is a perfect looking bar ready to go into cold store to harden. It’s later pulled out and wrapped in it’s jacket.

Tasting this chocolate warm and grainy before it goes into the tin is my favorite. Unusual in texture, deep in flavor, it rolls around my tongue like food for the gods. In fact, chocolate was used as a source of strength and vitality, not to mention it kept well. The Aztecs used it as an energy source to run from one town to another, portioned to how far they had to run. Sicilian Nobility used it mixed with meat to take
on long hunting trips. Mixed with eggplant, it became a savory delicacy.

Perhaps I am on the short list of people without a sweet-tooth. I am not so fond of sweet, especially too sweet. But when I taste the bittersweet of Bonajuto’s slightly crunchy chocolate, with either a taste of cinnamon, or my preferred pepperoncino, I shut my eyes and pay attention to the beginning, the middle and the end, as if it were a composition. The true, unadulterated flavors mingle, along with the sugar and the pure taste of the chocolate,and as Franco says, “ah..si senti tutto al fine”.You get everything at the end. It is then I experience something close to the feeling of love. A moment of tasteful, uncomplicated, satisfying bliss.

Join us in Sicily May 9-17, 2010!

Basil Ice Cream? Cafe Sicilia. Noto, Sicily

Probably the most delicious gelato in Sicily comes from Cafe Sicilia.

Wanna taste? Come with me in the springtime..May 9-17 2010.

The wildflowers will blow your mind..and the gelato will blow your tastebuds.

Cedro Ordinario

Citron~or Cedro Ordinario~ on a pedestal. It deserves to be. Its a magnificent fruit deserving of a Jewish delegation that comes from Israel every year between July and August to choose the best fruit to be used in the most important holiday; Succoth. There is an actual 'mashgaich' who observes the trunk of the tree to be sure it hasn't been grafted and that it's 'kosher'. Once decided, it's picked, further analyzed and put into a silver box and shipped to Tel Aviv.

These have obviously been grafted and would not make the cut. I became fond of them in Sicily at 'Regaleali', Anna Tasca Lanza's family wine estate, one and half hour south of Palermo. The pulp is appreciated and has very little juice. I fell in love with it in a salad, thinly sliced with fennel and dressed with just pressed olive oil and salt. It's often candied, but I prefer it fresh.

Capri. June 22. 09

The black pearl of the Mediterranean

My favored legume this spring, has been the black lentil, lenticchie nere
from Sicily. I have been buying them from a small vendor of grains and legumes in Sant'Ambrogio market, here in Florence. They reminded me of the dark mini lentils grown in volcanic soil from the tiny island of Ustica.

An ancient island, it was first inhabited by the Phoenicians. It's older than the Aeolian islands and is actually the rocky top of a an undersea volcano. Ustica means dark rock~ therefore called the black pearl of the Mediterranean. Today it stands protected as a marine reserve.

I walked the 2 mile radius of the interior through fields of wildflowers. Typical of the Med, I came upon wild figs, wild capers, wild prickly pears, yet cultivated almond groves and bean fields. Islands are usually known more for their fish and this is surely the case here. I rode around in a 'gomone', (a raft with a motor) in the surrounding sea. I saw medusa's in a natural pool in the rocks that I almost jumped into. The water was inviting, crystal clear and fresh. Exactly what the jellyfish thought as well. Their presence means as much. Exhilarating would have been an understatement had I showed up a minute before. Here on the island, lentils are served with fish. Not a usual combination. Yet, from the point of view of local; what grows together, goes together.

Everything about this small, isolated island was rich and concentrated, worn by eons of wind, sun and saltwater. if you ask me, the real 'black pearl of the Mediterranean' is not the island itself, but it's native daughter, La lenticchia nera..


I am a great fan of the 'one dish meal'. Here is another version. I love these lentils as they take no time to cook. Soaking is unnecessary. They provide meaty nourishment and are known for aiding digestive healing. The bitterness of sauteed chickory
adds a juicy, yet earthy element that goes well with the beans. I have used an egg to accompany as it fits the composition of the dish, adds protein and color, not to mention a rich sauce. For the seafood version, I recommend a swift trip to the hinterland, just a two and half hour ferry ride from Palermo.

Lenticchie Nere con Cicoria e un Ouvo Bello Bollito

2 cups lentils
1 head of garlic, cooked whole in the broth
1 sprig of fresh sage
1 t of ground cumin
1 tiny dried red pepper
a drizzle of olive oil
salt to taste, once lentils are almost cooked

1 fresh chicory, (like a head of napa cabbage) cleaned and chopped
1 clove garlic, smashed and chopped fine
salt to taste

4 eggs, soft boiled for 3 minutes

salt, pepper, to taste

Cook your lentils in plenty of fresh water. Bring to a boil, then down to a simmer. Choose a heavy bottomed pot or terracotta.
Add a whole garlic head, cleaned of any loose skin. The garlic slowly infuses the broth and flavors the beans. Add sage, pepperoncino, cumin, a drizzle of olive oil and simmer about 1/2 hour or so, until the beans are 90% cooked. Beans double in size, so check for liquid so the beans don't burn. Bean broth or 'pot liquor' is also delicious to keep if you choose to make a soup. Add salt- at least 1/4 t for each cup for digestion-then to one's taste. Simmer for another 10 minutes, then turn off heat.

Clean and chop chicory and saute in e.v. olive oil and one clove of chopped garlic. Add pinch of salt to flavor. Cook until
tender, but green color remains vibrant and not gray.

Put 4 whole eggs in the shell in a small pot covered with water. Bring to a boil. Set aside. let sit for 15 minutes.

Assemble on one plate:

A bed of Ustican black lentils
a scoop of chickory on top
a peeled soft boiled egg, cut in half and presented on top of the dish.

Add a fresh pinch of cumin, salt a dash of freshly cracked pepper
and ...a drizzle of ex..v..olive oil.

enjoy the taste of treasured ancient tastes!