You Say Muscolini, I Say Acciughe
Conchiglia pastry stuffed with dense paste of Nutella.
We started with the pastries we bought from Artigiana yesterday. Elena and Alessandro were right—this place nails it. It’s really something when you start your day with a slice of heaven.
We thought about heading to Brontë, and that’s when I discovered I lost 2 of my rings. I was super bummed about it. I decided it was too beautiful a day to waste, so ran downstairs to get my shoes, was just about to use the bathroom before we left, and Mariella and Elena were at the door.
“Today there is the market” explained Elena. Mariella said she’s leaving for Pilates class; she’ll drop us at the start of it, and we could walk back home later. Brontë will have to wait until tomorrow, as we wanted to experience this.
Waving bye and thanking Mariella, we dove into the cacophony and sensory overload that is a Sicilian market. A smaller version of Ballerò in Palermo, and similar to the size of Catania’s, this market had everything—from the baristo pushing his cart and selling caffe along the street, to the designer knock-off handbags, phone adapters, coloring books, frying pans, coats, shoes, tablecloths, and on and on! Turn down a side street, and there’s chicken roasting on large spits, fruit and vegetables, cheese of all tastes/shapes/sizes, salumi for miles, chocolate, candies, savory snacks, and oh! The fish!!!! We saw a pescatore selling anchovies; I love fresh anchovies, but have never prepared them. He was obviously the favorite anchovy vendor, as there were concentric circles of people around his cart. There were spigola, octopus, tons of baccalà, and so many fish I couldn’t identify but just knew they’d be delicious! We defaulted to a chunk of Pecorino fresco “saporite” (soft, savory, Sicilian-style pecorino), a rope of salami (I told the vendor just give us his favorite kind), and a provolone used to make schiacciata, which people were buying so fast, I had to try it.
And through all this, a sunny and warm day. I must remember to leave my light jackets home!
On the way out from the market, we ran into Maria Teresa and her parents, and I asked how easy it was to clean/cook fresh anchovies. Papa Giuseppe explained the method, then rotated the top of his index finger onto his cheek, a gesture meaning “buona (yummy)”. So back we went to buy them from Popular Anchovy Vendor. No one was around him; we asked “acchiughe?” “No. Hanno finito”. Nope. They’ve finished (all gone). We promised ourselves to go early next Wednesday. We walked by a vendor selling anchovy-like things called muscolini, but again—no idea what they were. We again saw Maria Teresa and her parents, explained our bad anchovy luck, and started to say we’ll be back next week, when Papa Giuseppe motioned, saying ask the cheese vendor. But… he’s selling cheese(?) Yes, but he also sells anchovies; you must ask. He asked the cheese vendor for us. “No. Hanno finito”. Next Wednesday, then.
I bought a lightweight sweater/coat, thinner socks, red underwear (I forgot to pack a pair for New Years Eve), and of course we bought the meat and cheese. On to the bakery for a loaf of bread, and home for a quick snack made from our market purchases. Over “lunch,” Joe helped me recount where we might’ve been when I last wore my ring, which led me to a pair of pants I wore, washed, and folded, so chances seemed slim… but guess what was in the pocket? 😊
I saw a text from Elena. “Karen, I have acciughe if you want. Yesterday Giuseppe (her husband) bought them. I will tell you a good place where to buy them”. Thinking she must’ve heard of our market escapade from Maria Teresa, and was generously offering what she had, I said no, please keep them for yourselves but I will gladly get the vendor name from you where we can buy them. Two minutes later, she and Mariella were at our door with the anchovies in a jar. I said yes, we use those, but I was talking about the fresh ones. She looked puzzled. These aren’t fresh enough? No, I don’t mean unexpired, I mean the anchovies “in toto,” from the market. Ah!! Mariella said, picking up her phone. While she made her call, Elena explained she doesn’t eat the ones in a jar regardless, so we can have them. “Ok,” declared Mariella, with a very rapid explanation of something. Elena repeated the Italian words at a slower (but not slowwww) pace, and I began to understand something about a fish delivery, which we had asked Mariella about earlier, for Friday (from one of those Ape trucks with the megaphone speakers, driving neighborhoods to sell their wares, not unlike ice cream trucks back home). I said, it’s ok—I need to learn how to listen to fast Italian. Elena pressed her hands together, But this one (gesturing toward her mom), even when she talk to someone from Florence or Milan, they don’t know it’s Italian. She explained this as Mariella was whooshing us down the stairs. Elena explained, You want fish here, you make a call. He’s outside now.
He sure was. Another Giuseppe, with an Ape trunk full of ice, swordfish, Beautiful Fish, parsley. We got our anchovies, after all. And 3 of the beautiful fish for which I still must learn the name. I confessed I didn’t know how best to cook this unnamed fish. Mariella grabbed my arm. Tonight, we cook together.
We canceled our dinner reservations.
And the Sicilian word for anchovy is different than the Italian “acciugha;” it’s “muscolino”. They were right under our nose, the whole time at the market!
I may update after my cooking lesson if it doesn’t get too late.
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Mariella must be the word for Magician. Although I was working, she brought Rachi to play with Ettore, while she showed me how to clean/debone and prep the anchovies two ways: beccafico (stuffed, like an Oreo, with breadcrumbs, chili pepper flakes, and other seasonings), and for fritto (coated in olive oil and mollica crumbs). She flew through the process in about 5 minutes. There looked to be a ton of anchovies, I said! She said, cook them later, eat them while they’re really hot. She motioned walking by the stovetop, picking up one, eating it; walk backwards, do the same; walk forward again, etc, etc. I love this Energizer Bunny of a woman!!!
Fina and Marika joined Elena, Rachi, Ettore, and I in the ballroom/playroom for a nice get-together. Then all the (we) women went to Elena’s flat for tea and biscuits before dinner. We chatted and joked, and Elena gave Mariella such a ribbing, but in English, and then imitated a dazed grinning look on Mariella’s face. We’ve been discussing the word “monello,” which translates to “rascal,” but Elena insists the subtitles she watches say “naughty”. I was trying to describe the subtle difference, and when she did this to Mariella, I called her a rascal!
After tea, we all headed home, and I extended an offer to Marika for a stay in Minnesota any time (she returns to Switzerland on Friday), I came back to our apartment to cook our anchovies.
Holy Mary Mother of God.
I’m sure I’ll dream about this dinner. I ought to send flowers to Mariella.
She told us the fish is called orata, and she prepped it for roasting tomorrow.
Happy Thanksgiving prep to all who are hosting tomorrow. My poor sweet vaccinated sister tested Covid positive today, after buying a large turkey, baking a pie, and cleaning the house tip to toe. What an immense bummer. She and my BIL (recovering) deserve this least of anyone I know. So send hugs to them in your thoughts. They do Thanksgiving superbly, which is saying a lot, coming from me (who ranks it as least fave holiday after Halloween, except for their great rendition).
They were so looking forward to seeing their kids, my kid, our mom.
Tomorrow, for our celebration, we will have a traditional (pilgrim, indigenous peoples) dinner of fish, root vegetables, and perhaps clams. Italians do eat deer (cervo), as they did at the first Thanksgiving, but I’ll pass. The local Sicilian butcher has prepped an American facsimile for Elena and Giuseppe to serve on Friday. I’ll let you know what and how it is!
And now, some Kazuo Ishiguro, then dreamland.
Have a great day.
Aargh, I want that salami!!! Torture!
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