Sleeping with the Fishes: Dreaming of Sicilian Food

When I asked my B & B host, Angelo, to recommend a good trattoria, he responded confidently, saying, 'In Sicily, you cannot find bad food.' I may have been fortunate with my choices of restaurants but none of the meals I had disappointed me. Only half of those venues I visited were recommended by locals; as for the others, I simply took steps of faith.

Grilled swordfish rolls: a Sicilian classic

Any serious study of food history cannot afford to omit consideration of Sicily. Mithaecus of Siracusa, who lived during the period when Sicily was under the Greeks, is credited as the author of the first known cookbook in the Western world. After the island became the first Roman province outside the Italian Peninsula, Sicily served as Rome's breadbasket as the island's fertile soil and ideal climate enabled it to produce wheat for the empire. Interestingly, after Byzantine Sicily fell, it was the Arabs conquerors who introduced the technique of drying pasta for preservation purposes to the Sicilians. This early form of pasta became a staple for the island and it was soon exported to the mainland. I suppose that, being in a land where such historical culinary developments have taken place, one could do worse than to trust Angelo's words.

At the Ballaro` Market

Many traditional dishes of Sicily, the largest island in the Mediterranean Sea, unsurprisingly involve seafood. Walking along the slippery cobblestone streets at the Ballaro` Market in Palermo, the numerous market stalls selling seafood do not fail to attract a visitor's attention. The evocative, unmistakable smell of sea; the stalls vibrant and alluring appearance throughout the day, embellished with the myriad colours of the seafood on sale and enhanced by the warm, temperature of the light emanating from the bulbs above; stall owners yelling in macho tones the fishes available for the day; large swordfish heads placed upright, the sparkling eyes on them watching customers intently while their erect positions gave an appearance of readiness to impale market thieves; fresh mussels arranged meticulously and secured in netting as if they were disposed to stealthy escape attempts. These were but a few observations of what seemed like a typical stall hawking the products of the sea. The Catania fish market offers a similar sight but with twice the ebullience (and chaos).

When I ordered mussel and clam soup as a starter, I was expecting something similar to clam chowder. I was astonished when this huge portion of shellfish arrived - and only as a starter!

Scenes from an Italian Restaurant

On my way to Monreale on a public bus in the morning, I was an unfortunate victim of an intimidation-cum-pickpocketing attempt by four men. I will not go into the details but being cornered by four individuals who were larger than me (their puffy coats adding to their stoutness) in a foreign place left me shell-shocked and it was probably appropriate for my destination to have been the famous Monreale Cathedral with its magnificent frescoes. I must say that travelling on my own and facing such a situation for the first time, I struggled to leave the experience aside and focus attention on the beauties of the place. It didn't help that I could not be entirely sure about the men's intentions as if their main goal was to pick my pockets, they did such a ghastly job! In the evening, with the memory of the incident still etched vividly in my head but not wanting the men to have the satisfaction of marring the quality of my Sicilian experience, I decided to cast my lingering fears aside and ventured out for dinner.

Pasta with sardines

I entered Trattoria Ai Normani, not too far away from the Norman Palace in Palermo. There were no customers at the point in time. It was half-past-six in the evening, way too early for dinner in Italy. For a Singaporean not accustomed to winter, the early sunset was consistent in bringing out tummy rumbles when the clock struck six. The waiter, an eager beaver, was certainly surprised at my premature visit but broke the silence of the trattoria with warm welcome. Deciding to select pasta con le sarde, literally 'pasta with sardines', one of Sicily's signature pasta dishes, I asked the waiter for a recommendation for the second main dish. He rushed into the kitchen and, less than a minute later, rushed out and listed a few meat dishes. I can't remember what I chose then, but having made the selection, I unfolded the serviette, placed it on my lap, readying myself for the meal.

All of a sudden, a middle-aged man wearing a most endearing moustache popped into the dining area with a plate in his hand and on it, lay a raw whole fish about the length of a hand. He began enthusiastically introducing the fish in rapid-fire Italian and recommended that I tried it. The name of the fish escapes me, just like many of the words did when they were fired at such breakneck speed. Faced with a hearty display of spirit from the chef (I began noticing photographs of him hung on the wall), I couldn't say 'no'. After I had scarfed up the pasta, the chef brought the grilled fish in on table trolley. He squeezed some lemon juice on the fish and asked whether I would prefer him to do the deboning of the fish. Not wanting to create a mishap to follow the one in the morning, I left the deboning to his dexterity. He drizzled olive oil and sprinkled herbs on the fish before serving it.

I was feeling stuffed when the waiter came in to introduce the desserts on offer. These were all lined up on a trolley table. He went through each of them until he came to the cannoli when he simply said, 'And yes, you know all about cannoli.' Named after the tube-shaped shell which usually contains a rich filling containing ricotta, all Godfather fans would have been acquainted with this classic Sicilian pastry dessert through the famous line 'Leave the gun. Take the cannoli.' I was particularly intrigued by the Sicilian pear which looked like a cross between a guava and a dragon fruit, positively lethal. I elected to try the Sicilian chocolate mousse cake but the chef, who had come out of the kitchen to observe his waiter's advertising capability, instructed the waiter to let me try the cannolo too. Placing his hand on his chest while smiling heartily, he appeared to indicate: 'Leave the cost to me. Take the cannoli'.

Chocolate mousse cake and cannolo

After serving the dessert, the waiter asked me where I was from. When I told him that I was from Singapore, his immediate reply was: 'Cina (China)?' When I shook my head, he quickly made another guess: 'Giappone?' It was déjà vu; I had the exact same responses from two different post office tellers! When I told him that Singapore is a small country in Southeast Asia, he gave me a quizzical look and then said, 'Anyway, you are most welcome to Parlermo!' I departed before the place started to fill with other diners. As I walked towards the exit, I told the waiter that I was very satisfied with the meal. The chef rushed out of the kitchen and shaking my hand, thanked me and cordially bade me farewell. The decision to grab my time in Palermo by the horns had paid off.

Purple Heaven

I was also thrilled to discover that Sicily is the birthplace of Pasta alla Norma, a tomato-based pasta dish with eggplant, basil, and ricotta. Its origins lie in Catania, where the composer Vincenzo Bellini was born, and the dish is named after his most famous opera. I remember learning how to cook it several years back from an Italian cookbook a friend gave me but I was excited to try one prepared in Sicily itself. I usually prefer cream-based pasta dishes but my first mouthful of Norma, at La Tavernetta da Piero in Siracusa, sent me to purple heaven. The rigatoni was cooked perfectly al dente and the tomato puree combined well with the eggplant and basil to form a rich, delectable sauce. Being infatuated with eggplant (known as 'brinjal' in Singapore), I was to savour the dish thrice during my week's stay in Sicily. In fact, halfway through eating my second plate of pasta alla Norma, I decided that, should I have a daughter, I will name her 'Melanzana', Italian for 'eggplant', 'brinjal' or 'aubergine'. The Italian translation is certainly more charming than the latter terms.

Pasta alla Norma served in an aubergine!

Speaking of eating like a horse, Giuliano, my host in Catania, told me that horse meat is one of Catania's most popular dishes. It was difficult to believe at first! I decided to have it as a second dish, or secondo piatto, and was pleasantly surprised by its texture. Judging from the muscular build of the animal, one would imagine horse meat to be tough but the steak I had, served medium rare, turned out to be as tender as a beef steak served in similar doneness. Lightly-marinaded with salt, thyme and olive oil, one was not distracted from the steak's natural flavour.

The frustrating thing about travelling alone is that you're inevitably limited to the variety of dishes you can savour. If you have a travel companion, the both of you could order two different dishes and each one could sneak a mouthful from the other's plate. However, I must admit that I often allowed my sense of gustatory adventure to get the better of me and succumbed to ordering at least two different courses. My taste buds would be satisfied but, like the consumed dishes on my first mouthful, my stomach threatened to burst with flavours. Travelling solo, mealtimes often witnessed the insatiable desires of my tongue exceed the capacity of my stomach. I was so inspired by the food I had in Sicily, I couldn't help but purchase a cookbook for Sicilian cuisine (I opted for an English translation as fire will be involved).