Triglie again, senape tomorrow
We popped up and out of bed, and out the door to the market. We didn't take a coffee at home, so we popped into A Maidda on the way there, right on viale di Europa, across from the market. We each got a cappuccino and for Joe, a cornetto con crema.
My strong hunch is that Joe, as with most guys, does not love this market. I, however, love this market. Yes; there are vendors with cheap, low quality clothes, but there are also great deals on many nice things. Large bolts of upholstery fabric, thick cushions to create benches and window seats, fashionable sunglasses (my pair got two thumbs up from my friend Noel, who reps Tom Ford eyewear), great purses, etc. But you kinda have to dig. Think: TJMaxx and Goodwill having a baby.
Oh, and the food at the market! Wild greens, harvested this morning. The season's fruit harvest. Fresh triglie, sardines, sgombro, swordfish, all from the sea just down the road. Thick pork loins, roasted chicken, sausage, olives, nuts, and a hundred varieties of cheese. And everything in between.
But I love it for more than all that. This, in some ways, is the real Biancavillan church. Everyone gathers here; everyone is happy! I often meet people I know here, and it's obvious others come here partly for that reason. Which friend can I shout to and hug this morning? A guy with an espresso push-cart makes his way through the crowds, offering a darn fine caffè for €0.90. The energy is upbeat and fun. And I always come away with something, whether it's a blouse or a new type of food and a recipe how to cook it.
Today, Joe and I saw the triglie Mariella made a couple of days ago, but hers were "piccoli, piccoli," and these are normal sized. They're beautiful raw. I asked the vendor how he'd prepare these. He started explaining an oven dish with tomatoes. I asked if there were a stovetop recipe? I'm baking right after lunch. He suggested scaling, deboning, and rinsing, then dusting them with flour. While all that's going on, have some whole garlic cloves flavoring olive oil heated in a pan. Shake off the flour, fry, turn over. Don't overcook. "Che bontà!" I exclaimed: goodness. I said I'd take eight of them. Once home, I counted twelve.
Next I wanted to check out the vegetables and greens. I met another leaf I didn't know. While waiting for the vendor to help us, I turned to an elderly woman next to me and asked about the foliage in front of her. I'm new to some of these, I explained. She asked where I was from; I replied "Sono Americana," which seemed to delight her. She explained the foliage are wild leaves from the hills, picked in season right now. I asked what they're called. She tried to think. Then yelled to the vendor, this woman is an American! She wants to know what these are called! "Senape," he answered. "Senape," she explained, then started to explain further. Ah! I know it! Wild mustard! "Sanapuddhi!" I reiterated, remembering the Sicilian word for it. I was their new friend! When asked how she cooks it, the woman told me it's good with the usual--olive oil, chili pepper, garlic. Cook and clean the leaves first. You can eat it with spaghetti, or better yet, in an omelette. Oooh I like that last idea! I believe Mariella used this in the schiacciata she made for Simone's party last May.
We stopped back into A Maidda to get the bread we didn't want to lug around the market. I asked for two of their specialty breads, which look like mini focaccia (but aren't), and one "pagnotta con giuggulena", which the clerk started to grab, then stopped and giggled at my use of Sicilian dialect for sesame. That's two dialect words in one morning; I'm exhausted.
On the way back, I suggested we stop at the Piazza Belvedere. It was being cleaned up last spring, and I want to see if it's finished. We saw an old man leaning on the railing. When he noticed us, he pointed down below, explaining something about water and green. Because of the recent rain, it's all lush and green? Or there was water running through there at one time, that made everything green? I didn't catch it all, but remember, I'm exhausted from using those dialect words this morning! And yes; the Piazza is cleaned up.
I needed flour for the fish, and an onion. If I had the will, I would also stop at the Chinese store to pick up the verifiable hand mixer I saw there the other day. And then to Decò or Lidl. After dropping our goods and Joe at home, I began my newest mission.
Walking for a while to get there seemed like nothing compared to when I made the walk home. I picked up a mixer, and all the heavy things (flour, sugar, etc) at Lidl to try making oatmeal chocolate chip cookies here.
Sicilians, and probably Italians in general, only recently have pure vanilla extract available, but it's not everywhere. Instead, a scented powder called vanillina is used; it's taste is more subtle. And there is no brown sugar here. Also, baking soda's closest facsimile is bicarbonate of soda, which you'll find in the cleaning products section vs the baking. And there is no "all purpose flour". The closest thing is farina di Manitoba, a "0" grind. I wanted flour to use both for the cookies and for the fish. I saw something called "beet sugar" in the odds 'n ends aisle, but had no idea I could've used it for brown sugar until later. Most substitutes on the Google search said to add maple syrup to white sugar. Go find one Italian who likes maple syrup. It can be found here, but it's mostly used when someone's having an American-themed party where they'll make pancakes.
I lugged the bags of heavy stuff back home, arriving sweat soaked. It's warm again today.
I set to scraping and cleaning what seemed to be a truckload of fish. I don't have the best tools in a kitchen yet, so the twelve triglie were laborious to clean. Joe heated up the fagiolini dish that Mariella brought us last night, to go with it. A loaf of crusty bread made it complete. The triglie certainly were not beautiful, but they did taste good!
After clearing that big mess from the cleaning-flouring-cooking-eating process, I absolutely had to plunk onto the sofa for a minute. I cat napped on and off for 25 minutes, despite the loud neighbor children whose voices permeated the apartment.
Now to make my oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. Once again, the first batch were flat and too dark. Then, it struck me: do I need to make baking adjustments for high altitude?! We are on Etna park!
Back to Google again, I looked up how to alter the rest of my dough, baked it, and voila! Oatmeal chocolate chip cookies!
I brought our linens to be washed --along with some cookies-- to Rodi. I'll blog tonight and prepare the senape for tomorrow; tonight we're having risotto leftovers and a salad. Not Mariella caliber, but it's sustenance. Besides; I ate a ton of test cookies today.
It's going to be an early night. Even if every day isn't perfect, I'm happy here. There is always something to do, something good to eat, a new face of Mama Etna to view each day, and a network of people here who teach and love me.
My freshly made bed is calling, and I'm ready to dive into it.
Buonanotte.
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