Some Things Don’t Change

This Sicilian Etnean white is dry, soft, and bold. I like it.

My shrimp pasta dinner. Arugula was strong, but otherwise yummy.

Especially in the height of Covid last year, the question “What should we make for dinner?” became nails on a chalkboard (does anyone get that reference anymore?) to me. And being here, yes, the ingredients are fresh and beautiful and good, but by default I make the same things I did back home, but with better raw materials. At this point, I could eat ‘al chiosco,’ the very good street food, none of which I’d be able to prepare at home. As lovely as our apartment is, there is some lacking in kitchen utensils/fixtures/cookware, etc, that I won’t invest in, but that limits what I cook. So I get frustrated about cooking, as I thought the What’s for Dinner dilemma would change. This is a challenge sometimes.

As are directions! Today, we set out to explore a new (to us) part of town. Trying to head back home, we found we were at the way-out edge of town. When you are about to leave the town, there is a sign (“Biancavilla,” for instance) with one of those red Ghostbuster diagonal slashes through it (I didn’t think to snap a pic at the time). If you turn around, you’ll see the town name and sometimes a town map, without the slash, meaning you’re entering that town. We had a long hike back.

Since it was still early enough, I asked if we could stop at the panificio I had seen near the stadium. When I’ve gone for walks near it, the scent from there was mouthwatering, but it had always been closed at those times. Their morning sweets looked amazing, but we had gone to “Artigiana” at the beginning of our walk, and already bought some for tomorrow. Another time for those, then! But I told Joe I’d get something there to eat for lunch. He got a large square of pizza (not judging…), but I wanted the delicious-looking carb pocket with pistachios sprinkled on top. Everything here is about the pistachio; in fact, there are pistachio pizzas! They’re often combined with prosciutto and cheese.

I talked with the two guys at the panificio for a bit while Joe stepped outside. They are adorable. I paid for our things, and one of them said my ‘pronuncia’ (pronunciation) was ‘ottimo’— I just speak too slow! All those Italian CDs years ago must’ve paid off, although I’m still having a hard time with any full and meaningful 2-sided conversations. Somehow I thought it’d be easier by now.

It’s another gorgeous day; in fact, I got sweaty on our walk. On the terrace eating our lunch from the panificio, Joe got up to reheat the leftover pasta e ceci from the fridge, while I delighted in my involtino which was indeed stuffed with cheese, prosciutto and pistachio. The remaining pizza went into the ‘organics’ bin.

School kids are home, and I offered to watch Ettore early if needed, since Elena has some appointments. I think a quick nap may also be in order.

Things got pretty rural looking on our walk “back”.

A palazzo.

Etched art in a doorframe.

A Biancavilla personhole cover.

The bakery with heavenly aromas surrounding it.

A true nap was unsuccessful, but I did the New Yorker crossword from the leftover “on the plane” pile, and simply shut my eyes for a while. Joe is going out for groceries once I have Ettore here; I think I’ll make a simple pasta with tomatoes, fennel (since I have so much), wine, arugula, and some of the Sicilian shrimp the size of a Robusto cigar.

And I may try calling Walgreens yet again; several different attempts had me on hold forever. Their non-busy time is my work time. Trying to take care of this and a few insurance and bank things has been trial and error with the time difference. Frustrating, but I’d rather be frustrated here  than almost anywhere!