The Market, i Supermercati, What's On the Market
I told Joe last night, "I'm setting the alarm for 7:30, so I can get to the Wednesday Market before 9". It was a restless night; our body clocks are still off, so we took turns throughout the night waking each other up. Joe was zonked out as I showered, dressed, and slipped out the door. I didn't want to wake him, and I knew he didn't want to go to the market.
Cutting through the neighborhood from behind the main church piazza, I saw Andrea walking toward me. Before I could speak, she dove in for a 1-2 kiss, and asked, "Vai al mercato?" You're off to the market? Yes, do you need anything from there? I've already been there and home. Aggghh. She's stunning AND efficient.
Along the way, I saw the streets in various stages of de-decoration from Biancavilla's patron saint festival, Festa di San Placido. We experienced this festival the first time we came to Biancavilla, with my family. We just missed it this year.
No sooner had I entered the labyrinth of goods, when I spotted Fina. Another 1-2 kiss. "Ahhh, Kah-ren! Buon giorno! Presento mia amica Anna!" I warmly took Anna's hand and introduced myself. Then they both told me to check out the food area first; the good stuff disappears quickly.
I hadn't thought through that I was carrying only one €10, and the rest were large bills. So I calculated I could buy the cherry tomatoes I came for, along something that looked new to me (I like trying local ingredients), then get smaller bills before next Wednesday's market.
Casually walking toward the food, I stopped to admire some of the surprisingly high quality items at this little street market. I like picking up sunglasses and purses, and the occasional clothing item from a certain vendor. Andrea told me about the vendor, saying he's expensive for a street market, but inexpensive compared to stores. The highest ticket item might be €50, but most of his inventory is under half that amount. Good cotton, wool, silk. "Look for the color wheel," Andrea explained. Sure enough; all items are grouped by color, one graduating into the next ala the color wheel. I'll be back next week, for a few items here, and for the seafood a few aisles further down.
At the food market, the seafood and fish were plentiful, but going fast. I made a mental note to look for fresh sardines next week.
At an ortofrutta, I spotted the cherry tomatoes I love. I bought over half a kilo. Looking down, I saw some unusual (to me) foliage, a few with dried up flowers attached. The vendor, who said I look like I'm not from here (ratsofratsogrrrr), helped me after I said I'm American, but of course I spoke to him in Italian. I confessed I didn't know this pile of foliage in front of me, but my botanical training tells me the leaf shape is in the squash family? His eyes lit up. This! Aha! You don't know this?! It is very Sicilian! It is called Tenerumi, and cooking with it hails from Ragusa, but all of Sicily eats it. These are the foliage of the cucuzza plant. Now my eyes lit up. I know cucuzza! In fact, I think my friend (Mariella) made it for me last night. Please tell me how YOU like to prepare it. He said the type of tomatoes I chose were perfect. Chop off the greens from here down; throw that part away. Soak the rest and rinse it. Everything is edible, even the dead flowers. A little olive oil, some garlic, these tomatoes, you could add diced potatoes... Cook in a broth. It's good with spaghetti, but break the pasta into pieces (he thumbed a 3-inch span). But it is best in brodo... a cross between a soup and a pasta dish. Mmmmmm buonissimi! Oh my God did I catch all that?
Returning home, I saw Joe's text, asking if I went somewhere (um...). Once back, I saw Mariella and told her about the tenerumi. I cooked that for you yesterday!, she said. You must have Nonno clean it for you. And she described some peeling process that I didn't quite understand but evidently Nonno is an expert at it.
Going upstairs, I saw Lilo outside Elena's door. I knocked and opened it to let him in. Elena was home, with a sick Matteo on her shoulder. This woman is super mom, works for two major companies --three, actually, as she is being groomed to take over Vincenzo's business-- and makes everything from scratch. I told her about the tenerumi, and she said, "You must give it to Nonno to prepare." So it sounds like a date with Nonno is in order!
I saw Joe upstairs, who was finishing a coffee and some biscotti. We decided to keep the market theme going, taking the Cleo out for her first spin with us this year, to Deco.
Elena was right. The salumeria at Decò is perfect. We ordered a Paesanino salami (copying what the woman in front of us ordered) and, because I'm picky about salumi and thought this one looked too "interesting," I asked for 18 thin slices of porchetta.
We grabbed guanciale, cheeses, tea, bottled water, dish soap, laundry detergent, and an embarassing motherload of wine. The wine is so good, so cheap, and doesn't give me headaches. Besides, I like to bring a nice bottle to wherever we're invited to dinner.
Joe loaded up the car, and I went on foot to meander home. As it was approaching the time for a 3-hour shut-down for most small merchants, I decided to turn back and pop into Lidl.
Mariella says she'll often get bread here, and I can see why. Their selection is good. I also got pistachio flour, which is a little over $3 for the same amount I can buy on Amazon or in NYC for $18. I found speck, dark chocolate, Greek yogurt, and merenda (snack cakes) for Ettore. They also have the equivalent to Aldi's Aisle of Shame... it's the same company.
I enjoyed my walk home. Etna is shrouded in clouds today, but her foothills are visible. One of the best views is from the Lidl parking lot. Further along, I saw hibiscus still powering out gigantic yellow blooms, and a bottlebrush plant, which always stops me in my tracks and makes me both smile and get teary-eyed. Joe's sister, Mary Jean, delighted in these along the shores of Fiumicino, where we stayed the last night of our 2014 trip. When we looked up behind the enormous flowering shrub, we saw a sign: Mary's Beach. "I think this is the place we'll have that last Italian drink!" she said. And indeed it was the last. I'll treasure the memories. That last night, the gals bunked in one room, the guys in another. I became a sister, she said. Our last time together. Sigh. But a poignant sigh.
The bathroom fixture store has beautiful window displays. And even here, there are the Teste di Mori! It's a lovely display. Across the street, there's a new modern black structure, with a shop called Alter Ego. Sometimes I find these English twists kind of funny when they show up on signs or storefronts or tee shirts.
Turning the corner and seeing it, I suddenly remembered that I want to check out Red Fish with Joe. This is the concept restaurant for fish and seafood lovers, with great pricing. You can dine in, or take it away. And you can take away, say, one portion to cook at home, if your housemate doesn't like eating fish, or take your portion home fully cooked, if your housemate doesn't like having the house smell like fish. Brilliant! Why are people so understanding about this, and not about stinky bacon??
Finally home, I had Joe buzz me in. I immediately set to putting away the Deco and the Lidl hauls. Joe was already on the balcony eating a salami sandwich, so I put together my porchetta version, which I believe to be the superior. I have a sneaking suspicion Joe thinks so as well. Hopefully some remains so I can make another sandwich! Just kidding. I know where to get my fix if I need more of it.
I made a bathroom stop, when, in an indelicate moment, the door pushed open and a four-year-old peeked through the cracks. "Ettore! I'm on the toilet!" He shut the door.
We played for a good part of the afternoon; he brought his Legos, so I could also have a good time (he knows I like building things). Then there was an arc of wildness; the Witching Hour, as I called it with my own kids. To divert, I asked if he wanted the new merenda I bought, along with some tea (actually a tisane). I also asked him to help me make blueberry muffins-- I brought a premade mix and foil muffin cups from Minnesota, which I corralled in a cake pan. As the muffins baked in the oven and we sipped our tea, he asked, in Italian, why I chose Joseph as my fidanzato (boyfriend). I said, But Ettore, Joseph is my husband.
Nothing makes me feel dumber than a four-year-old very intentionally putting his forearms on the table, staring sideways to the ceiling, and slowly explaining... Before He Was Your HUSBAND, He Was Your BOYFRIEND. So, why did you choose him?
A little flabbergasted that this came out of a four-year-old -- one who is trying so hard to be patient with me -- I started opening and closing my mouth, like a fish. I finally responded, meekly, "No; I think he chose me!"
He seemed to want to move on from the topic (or, more likely, was fed up with me). Running around the sofa and charging at Joe, his teeth connected to Joe's elbow in an accident of misalignment. As he hit full wail, Agnese arrived to collect him.
All this, and the muffins weren't even done.
They left, and I really couldn't care less about supper, since I am still out of sorts and physically uncomfortable. Besides; though we bought all those groceries, I'm still missing a few ingredients that will stitch them together. So we had spaghetti with a Sicilian jar sauce Elena had bought us, which wasn't too bad, but also not anything to write about.
The muffins turned out small but fine. I've now spent too much time blogging, and I want to turn in early so I can be ready first thing in the morning. Vincenzo is showing us his sister's place, which she wants to sell. The initial listing price knocked it out of consideration, but Elena said that her aunt is happy it could stay in the family(!), so there might be some price adjustments. We shall see.
I spent time earlier today looking at viable back up options. Two bathrooms and a garage would be a dream, but I don't want a big place to clean or to pay taxes on. And I can only handle a couple of guests at a time, so it won't be a party place. Elena said we always have our apartment here, so there is no rush. And those are the most calming, kind words of all.
I'd have to work on getting my sister here, however. Or else all this may be a deal breaker.
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