Something's Fishy Here
Today started with a morning focused on self improvement: hair coloring, nail trimming and filing, head massage.
Joe and I enjoyed some of yesterday's purchase; many lemon biscotti di morti, with our coffee this morning. They certainly hit the spot.
I spent time studying information on some of the areas we're visiting this week, and by that, I mean which foods am I going to try! This is a quest for me; getting a rough outline on the history, culture, and cuisine of an area before I visit. Otherwise, as I said to Joe, it's just a bunch of stone buildings.
Italy has a multi-layered history, so much more than gladiators, pizza, soccer, and pasta. The silk and salt histories alone are fascinating, but I'll save commentary on those until Vincenzo weighs in. They are two of his favorite topics.
And of course, there are all of the miracles of the saints. My personal patron saint, for whom I am named (Caterina), is St. Catherine of Siena. It was believed she had the ability to read the thoughts and secrets of people, which made her a popular choice to hear confessions. It must've been both a blessing and a curse. Side note: she is also the (female) patron saint of all of Italy. St. Francis of Assisi is the male patron saint, but San Giuseppe -- St. Joseph -- is Italy's Father, venerated by all, and widely celebrated on March 19. So, basically, the country is looked after by Karen and Joe. Haha.
In San Gimignano, the town famous for all its towers, there are two particularly famous towers. Years ago, much like the semi-wealthy Americans and their McMansions of today, rich folks built towers just to feed their egos and show off. There was a law, capping the height on towers, so one family built two of them. They still stand. Rumor has it, Minoru Yamasaki, the architect of New York City's World Trade Center, was inspired by these twin towers.
And then there's Volterra, the city of the ancient seat of Volturi council; very powerful vampires for over twenty-five centuries. I will be eating lots of garlic this weekend!
Speaking of garlic, I will use only one clove each to cook the beautiful orata we picked up today. Joe and I ate this fish, cooked sotto sale, under coarse salt, on a wonderful weekend in Aci Castello a couple of years ago, where we dined under the stars, next to the castle, watching an impromptu group of traditional dancers perform in the piazza as they rehearsed for an event. It is one of the more memorable meals of my lifetime.
I've never prepared this fish at home. IF it is flown in to Coastal Seafood, our only real local fish monger, it is troppo caro... $$$$. I've been afraid to try it. Today, however, we bought two whole orata, cleaned for us, with cooking instructions given by the fishmonger ("in cartoccio," he said-- salt, olive oil, lemon, that's all. Don't overpower this delicate fish!) and walked away paying around $10 US dollars. There is room for error at that price.
I stopped in to OVS to buy a short lightweight black sweater to take to Tuscany, then to leave here for future wear. It's the one item I kept taking in and out of my suitcase when packing for this trip, erring on leaving it home. I like this one better, anyway.
Joe heated up the leftover pasta e ceci, and I was going to have a salad or a couple of pieces of salami, wanting to eat light so I can really pig out in Tuscany. But then there was a knock on the door. Mariella was holding a covered pan. "Pasta per te," she offered, handing it over. Of course I ate it. Two servings. I have no willpower.
I washed our lunch dishes and made another perfect Moka caffè. I keep saying this, not to brag that I make the best caffè, but to keep a running record of how many times I can get it perfect. Mariella can make it in her sleep, but it's really quite fussy to get it right, for those of us not born with a Bialetti in our hands. She gave me a lesson two years ago, and I may finally be trained, but for now, when I get it right, it must be documented! I poured the whole Moka contents into a big mug for myself, since Joe wasn't having any. He's reading the paper.
I like returning Mariella's cleaned cookware with something in it for her. I made toll house cookies, the real way, since I found some brown sugar.
It's darker now, since DST ends a week earlier in Italy than in the US. After cookie baking, I wanted to check out a couple of house sale addresses. Joe stayed home. I looked at one close by, but heard it's under contract, and there was no Vendesi sign left in the window. The next place, down some winding and sorta dark roads, seemed too far into the labyrinth to do alone at night. I turned back. I wasn't fearful for my safety, but rather for getting lost and not having Mr. Magellan with me to get us home.
I remembered I need carta al forno to make the cartoccio tonight, so that was as good an excuse as any to turn my heel toward the little grocer near our place. Now back home, Joe's fixing his scotch for Happy Hour, and I've got an orato parcel to prepare.
First things first. Look at these beautiful creatures!
I followed the fishmonger's instructions to the letter. Not only were these easy to prepare, they were also pieces of art (courtesy of Mother Nature, not my food prep). I made the cartoccio using parchment, drizzled olive oil inside the cleaned fish, tucked in thin slices of lemon (which look like limes here), added salt and pepper, then rolled up the parchment and twisted the ends like a bon-bon wrapper. They went into a preheated 180⁰C oven to cook while I finished the patate e zucchine, which were steamed with bay leaves and wild basil, and will accompany the fish along with a simple salad.
After a half hour, the vegetables and the fish parcels were ready to serve.
The nice thing about cartoccio is that you can lift the bones from the fish and neatly de-skin it, sliding the meaty part onto your plate, and tossing the paper package of the remains into the spazzatura.
I have to say... it was heavenly.
As we finished our scrumptious dinner and lovely wine, we heard what must be the beginning celebrations for Day of the Dead... I swear there is a hotline between China and Italy, for all the fireworks that go on around this country. For ANY occasion! I'll set my environmentalism aside, and enjoy the raucous moment.
It's a grande finale to another good Sicilian day.
Tomorrow, to market? I'll probably go solo. It's a chick thing.
Buonanotte.
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