Funghi di Ferla, Ricotta
Joe decided to join me at the market after all.
I was on a mission to find thin ankle boot-height socks, cheap, and possibly some small silver earrings to go with a necklace that Maria Teresa and Mariella gave me.
First, we had our espressi again at A Maidda, though the market push-cart espresso vendor makes a mean cup. Today turned out warm by 9:00 (dang you, AccuWeather), so he had cold drinks for sale as well.
We hadn't planned on getting groceries, but there were fiori di zucca and funghi di ferla. I have nice slab-cut pancetta in our fridge. Boom! A risotto will be born.
As long as we were there, I got some beautiful datterini, which are sized halfway between a grape tomato and a roma, but with more flavor than either of those. And, because I try to balance sweets-only breakfasts with healthy ones, I got some bananas. Not to be confused with ananas, which means pineapple.
Both of us actually browsed the vendor stalls on the way out. I found six pair of socks for €2,50/$3.00, and Joe found some nice deodorant. That sounds strange, but I really do like the European deodorants!
As we were leaving, we heard, "Eh! Oh! Come state?," and I turned to see a smiling Pippo, who we met this past weekend, and Elena's friend, who I think is named Piera but still can't recall for sure. They are sweet people who make a cute couple; always cheery. We conversed for a little while before bidding our buona giornatas.
"We need bread," I told Joe, "should we cut through via Inessa, where there are all the panifici?" He reminded me there's the baker named -- yep -- Giuseppe, who we'll pass, right on via Vittorio Emanuele. Oh; that's right. Ok.
Since I was dallying, taking yet another alley-with-laundry shot, Joe had time to notice a woman leaving a doorway with bread in hand, on a small perpendicular street. A panificio? We decided to check it out.
Inside, there was a small glass display counter, in back of which was an archway leading to another small room, bursting with two huge ancient stand mixers and from what I could see, one oven. In front of the display case was barely room for a small chair, on which sat the requisite silent bisnonna. They are always observing. The woman who I assumed to be bisnonna's daughter is the baker.
After our greetings, I asked for a pagnotta di pane, not knowing which of the three teeny varieties to choose. She explained, "รจ casareccia," it's homemade; and took a call on her cell phone, walking away through the archway. We nodded at the bisnonna.
She returned with a non-Barbie-dollhouse-sized loaf of bread wrapped loosely in parchment; I didn't have to decide on one from the case after all. €1,40, she said.
As soon as we got home, I cut off a piece of the bread to sample it. Yummmm. Good find, Peppino!
We opted to have the big pranzo today, and a snack later.
Unfortunately, we didn't get to Adrano this afternoon as planned. Joe had some work things to attend to, so I decided to pack my bag for the Tuscany trip. We leave at dark o'clock Friday morning, and who knows what, if anything, will go on tomorrow.
Although I think we may be invited to Mariella's for swordfish. She knocked on our door earlier, wearing her apron, and bringing a gift of fresh ricotta for us. I had her inspect my risotto in progress, for which I received a couple of bravas and a few suggestions for future ways to use funghi di ferla. She's always bustling, so Mariella flew back to the door, mentioning swordfish along the way, asking if I've packed yet, and saying that the ricotta she brought is good with pasta.
Our old neighbors from Lilydale are celebrating their 50th anniversary this weekend, and I had the idea to send over a Gaja Etnaen red from the enoteca near their house. Delivery may be an issue. An email has been sent.
I tried calling my Mom to no avail, but got ahold of my sister. A few minutes later, I heard the kids come up the stairwell with Rodi. Ettore asked her to do a Google search on something he was holding, which Rodi did, but Matteo grabbed her phone and ran with it. I caught him during his switchback; Rodi went in to grab her phone, and that's when Matteo threw it. There's no second chance with an uncased iPhone (I learned this the hard way), and there are marble, tile, or stone floors in this land, no carpeted cushion -- and no saving Rodi's phone. She handled it really well. After that point, however, the boys' exhuberant demeanor was dampened; they didn't want to play any more, and poor Rodi looked tired as they hung on her descending the stairs. My cajoling them back up was unsuccessful. I miss the old times, when they wouldn't leave. There are too many activities and distractions now. Or, as Mariella would say, "Matteo, monello" with a laugh.
We've opted to stay in for the evening. I'm hungry already, and we have the gift of fresh ricotta, so on Mariella's advice to prepare it with pasta, I started to cook dinner. It's early; at this rate dinner's ready at 7:30. I told Joe we're like the senior citizens back home, getting the Early Bird special at 5:30.
But it doesn't hurt to end supper and go to bed a little early the next couple of nights, to set our body clocks for an early Friday morning wake up.
I took a taste of the ricotta. It's a shame the stuff sold at Lunds or Cub or wherever in Minnesota is even called the same word. This velvety smooth consistency of deliciousness could have me sitting in front of it with a spoon until it's vanished.
Pasta with ricotta involves preparing the dressing crudo -- the 'sauce' isn't cooked. In a big pasta serving bowl, I whisked ricotta, grated parmesan, salt, pepper, lemon zest, the family's olive oil, and the teeny leaves of wild basil, all while the mezze maniche was cooking. I spooned some of the water's legno into the bowl and swirled it in before adding the pasta with a slotted spoon. Another quick grind of the pepper mill, and it's ready.
Good, filling, with balanced and delicate flavors, along with a mixed green salad and the datterini from the market today, Mariella did it for us once again.
Joe's already headed to bed. I am quickly following. We're watching Nobody Wants This on Joe's laptop, but the title must be referring to a sandwich, because Kristen Bell sure needs one. Very difficult to see her as an anorexic; super unattractive. This is not body shaming. I'm watching someone who truly needs help. And her character is irritating. But we keep watching because 1) it's available, and 2) supporting actress Justine Lupe steals the show.
And I'm just happy to bitch about something other than the upcoming election. My stomach is doing flip flops every day, I'm so nervous. Depending how it turns out, this Sicilian landscape could be a permanent one. And that's not too shabby.
Many countries are turning austere, but here, there's the law, and then there's the "Law". As the saying goes in Italy, "We're not a land of problems; we're a land of solutions". And that also is not too shabby.
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