I set my alarm, to get up and moving early while I'm here, but I don't know if I'm dehydrated, victim to a couple of days low-pressure system, or need more than my usual amount of sleep or coffee, but geez; I've woken up tired three days straight!
Slow and head-achy this morning, I took a hot shower, dressed and went upstairs. I heard Matteo inside Elena's door, then knocked and entered. Giovanna was there, playing with him, as Elena was working and she wanted Matteo to stay home and have a rest day.
She had been looking for me, to drop off a piece of zero-sugar pumpkin tarte Rodi made this morning.
I told her we were thinking of going to Etnapolis; could we use the car? She said yes; take the white one (Mariella's). It's in Daddy's garage.
I brought the tarte upstairs and ate some with my coffee. A cross between a bread dough and a pie crust, and a filling akin to pumpkin butter, it was just right on the carb:sweetness ratio for me. Good job, Rodi!
Rodi's Torta di Zucca
We took off to Etnapolis.
"I have data. Want me to plug into GPS?" I asked Joe.
"No; I remember the way," he said.
I'm impressed. We've gotten lost on that roundabout so many times in the past.
Though directions weren't a concern, Mariella's car was. First and second gears rode with continuous lurching.
"The transmission is bad," I offered, pretending to know what I'm talking about.
"I don't want to drive this car again," Joe confessed, although I think some of it has to do with how much he loves the Cleo.
Just an average drive, passing a hillside with a Norman castle on it in Paternò
Etnapolis was fun. We grabbed a robust caffè at a counter, just a few steps in from the door. Joe wanted to come to Etnapolis for one thing at Bucolo, a favorite men's clothing store. They're such good sales people; helpful, professional, friendly, with excellent taste and guidance. The clerk is around my twins' age, and helped me find a small token for Nikos as a Christmas gift.
Fun tidbit: I learned that the color we call teal is called petrolio here. I must've looked perplexed, because our clerk explained, when you see a puddle of gas/oil on the road, it's that color. It is, in fact!
By the time we left, Joe's "one item" became two shirts, a sweater, and a pair of pants. But his other purchases here from years ago have worn like cast iron, so it's money well spent.
Signs of my brother-in-law
People anywhere in the Catania province are proud of their beloved volcano.
I get a kick out of Italy's version of Old Navy, called Original Marines.
The pants needed hemming, and the two Bucolo associates motioned us to a tailor, SoS Sartorio, at the end of the mall. Joe walked in to drop off the pants, assuming we'd return next week or so. Go take a caffè, she said. They'll be ready in 15 minutes. What!?
I poked around and shopped, finding my favorite deodorant at a pharmacy, then continued to look around the mall. Joe went to pick up his tailoring. I forgot I said I'd meet him there, so after buying a cute top on clearance for €7, I used the free WiFi to text and find Joe. It didn't go through until he coincidentally tried turning on his data to locate me. Mea culpa. I needlessly made him wait.
By now, I was parched. We got back home, saw Ettore pounding on the door for Agnese, all the while telling Joe his glasses were ugly (they're not; he's just relentless with teasing Joe), and that they learned about autumn in school today.
Opening the apartment door, we were greeted with a small packaged treat of baked ricotta. Who is trying to fatten me up?! I have NO willpower when it comes to good ricotta, especially if it's baked! I will solve the mystery benefactor soon, although I have a sneaking suspicion I know who it is.
I made a salad, sliced some thick bread, and dug into the ricotta. I set out the finocchiana salami and the porchetta to go with it all. A perfect repast.
And, for dessert, the vitamin-full and healthy sweet treat, ficodindia. On a warm and beautiful day (that was predicted to be a rainy one), we had a yummy and satisfying lunch.
*********
The entire afternoon was spent on the sofa and internet, house hunting, casting my net as far as Palermo, Oliveri, Ripabottoni, and Catania. I honed in on Adrano. Biancavilla's rival town has enchanted me from day one. The history of the town dates back to the Saracens. And hey; who wouldn't enjoy neighboring a Norman castle? We walked through the one in Adrano last year; it's now a history and art museum, and it is pretty darn splendid. Adrano starts behind Decò, so I know I can walk to the family's house!
Since we have a ton of leftover risotto, I asked Joe if he wanted that, or pasta Amatriciana (for which I had every ingredient; the 5 Ps). He opted for the latter.
I chuckled as I took the guanciale from the fridge. The two thick slabs that would've cost $8-10 at Cossetta's market back home totaled 1/4 of that price here. And of course, it explodes every taste bud with unimaginable flavor. The pigs are scrumptious here.
I rounded out the meal with a simple salad and a Firriato grillo. I like this producer. Afterward, Joe nibbled a dessert of dark chocolate while I had another ficodindia.
As I finished washing the dishes and scrubbing the stovetop, there was a tap on the door. It's Mariella bringing another treat! This was one where Joe sang for his supper. The fagiolini he and Vincenzo harvested are part of this enticing brodo, along with other ingredients from Mariella's magical kitchen.
Like an oyster, it may not look like much, but... mwwwaaah!
As she was leaving, Joe asked about the problem with the car. Mariella made a jerking motion similar to how we rode throughout first and second gear. Oh, that, she said. The car just needs to warm up and then it's fine. Uh-Hmm.
And I guessed correctly... she's my baked ricotta fairy.
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