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Labor Day

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We were the only ones celebrating Labor Day in Sicily. We took the day off and relaxed.  We stopped at Decó to get wine, and at the last minute, I grabbed some beer — Messina Cristalle di sale. Today is swampy, and I thought cold beer might be appreciated. This is a particularly good one. We tucked the beer into the garage kitchen's fridge, and I brought wine to the kitchen. Everyone was lounging, except for Elena, Luisa, and the granddaughters. They were at Centro Sicilia, where Luisa bought a pair of sexy-fit Levi's (pronounced Levvies here). Elena apologized for not telling us they were going; it was spontaneous. I had absolutely no problem with hanging out and not spending money  The kids were playing a game, Who Killed the Wolf or Who Did the Wolf Kill, something or another that seemed akin to Who Took a Cookie from the Cookie Jar. Ragazzi at lunch Happy baby Giulio Mozzarella di bufalo, pepe, origano, olio d'oliva Playing wolf game Teà, reflecting Marta with the pups ...
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A Vigne Day, A Taormina Evening

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We slept in, logging a couple of nights' sleep in one. We woke up and it was already hot, but the sleep was energizing. I'm loving our new fan. After a lazy morning of editing wedding photos for the family chat (and drinking coffee), I took a nice cool shower and we headed to the vigne. We swam and sunbathed and snacked and played with the kids and chatted with the adults. Sometimes I wonder what wonderful thing I did in a past life to deserve this. Mariella commanded a dry-off; lunch is almost ready! Already at the table were mozzarella from Napoli, bread, dried caciocavallo, a block of parmesan. Mariella brought out her sugo with Napolitana pasta, a sage-leaf shape in pasta form, and harder than al dente . We call this preparation  al chiodo, but those outside of Napoli, including my grandma back in the day, call it alla Napolitana . This sugo, Giuseppe Rapisarda explained, gets topped with either grated ricotta salata or grated parmesan, in addition to a spoonful of cooked c...
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The Wedding

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Waking at dark o'clock after a brief sleep, I hurried to get ready in case Liliana picks me up early for the hairdresser. She did. Dressed in last night's party clothes, and a bit tousled, she was in bright spirits. We stopped at the florist to get the wildflower barrette she had ordered for her hair. "Che carina!," she exclaimed, as she threw down €5 for what would've been $35 back home. To the hair salon. Not yet open. Our appointment was at 8:30; we were there at 8:20. The owner pulled up at 8:25 and Liliana made a remark about her timing. "Sono in orario," the owner explained — I'm right on time. Liliana went first and her hair turned out beautifully! But she is beautiful, and has beautiful hair.  Next, I got a rather lengthy shampoo and conditioner treatment, and as I sat in the chair, the woman said, disgruntingly, that my hair is super fine. I explained I always, always use mousse or gel for volume, but she added nothing (though the bottles of...
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