Friday Means Linguine Vongole
Elena popped into the loft this morning to say hello after grabbing a suitcase out of the attic. I said we'd be at the vigne after we shower.
Joe waits in anticipation between Sicily visits to eat linguine e vongole from Mariella's kitchen. It truly has destroyed us for any reasonable facsimile elsewhere.
Today is his day.
I played with Giulio while Mariella and Luisa made preparations for pranzo. Luisa was bustling about, making what looked like a lasagna of potatoes but the kids called it a gateau. Isn't that a cake? I looked it up. In Italy, it's a potato casserole. She also shaped fat cigars of mozzarella, surrounded by whipped potatoes, covered in mollica, and fried. And, one of my favorites — sarde beccafico. I was in heaven with that last one.
Mariella prepared her linguine vongole with lupini clams, which are sweet as candy. She tops everything with a sauteed mix of squid, shrimp, calamari, and more clams.
Since many in this group don't eat seafood (!), there was a platter of linguine with simple red sauce.
Today, the potato dishes and beccafico were the first course, pasta was the secondo.
And more grapes (and Fernet Branca) for dessert.
Matteo climbed the trellis he knows he's supposed to stay off of, then stood atop a wicker table, both times to pick and eat grapes. Monello.
Here is a series of shots depicting his eternal defiance:
Joe, Vincenzo, and kids swam to Paolo Conti's smoky sexy croons (a singer I love), as I rocked a teething Giulio in my arms. It's another hot day.
After visiting for a while, talking about Joe's newest interesting case, and common law vs civil law, and the Barbie in Sicily meme, we said we're heading back to Biancavilla. "Then go," Elena said. "Is that your equivalent to 'Get the hell out of here?'" I asked. She just smiled.
We found Giuseppe Rapisarda and Mary, and bid our goodbyes. We all mutually agreed what a pleasure it's been to spend some real time together. Their flight on Sunday got cancelled, and to book another airline or book a Monday return resulted in thousands of dollars more for their family. They will miss the baptism, and I will miss them.
Joe had another work call. I took the opportunity to give the upstairs a cleaning shakedown, after which I finally had time (and it finally wasn't the middle of the night back home) to call my sister.
Lori said she's been reading my blog posts and is so happy for me. She's my best cheerleader. We had a long talk, catching up on everything. It's great that my entree to the Rapisardas is through her (and her daughter, Leah). She's able to connect all the dots in a personal way.
My kids have been sending me pics from their time in Mexico City. I'm happy the three of them finally have time to travel together. As I hinted at in yesterday's post, I'd love to create travel experiences with them, but it's looking doubtful. I've decided I'll spend the money and go on my own (and with Joe, when he wants to join me). That feels like a teeny bit of a loss, yet quite liberating. Here's to my own travel, while I'm able to do it, and giving less AF about saving money for after I'm gone. "Own oxygen mask first".
I texted Elena to say we're staying in Biancavilla tonight. We saw Giuseppe Uno on the treadmill here, and explained to him that I'm on a mission to find chocolate covered orange rind for Luisa's onomastico tomorrow, so we're heading to Scandura. We had searched three Decó stores and two local sweets spots, to no avail. It wasn't until we went to the chocolatier at Scandura that we understood this is not available now because it's too fucking hot for chocolate. Oh; and Joe locked us out again.
Ah; well. Time for another idea on the orange peel, quickly. Tomorrow, maybe.
While at Scandura, we sat on the lovely back patio and had wine (me) and a Negroni (Joe), after being greeted with a "Bonsoir". I'd much rather be mistaken for French than American. We laughed, remembering one of the Stissi ortafrutta brothers asking if I'm from Germany; the other brother, Francesco, who I usually deal with, overheard and yelled from the back, in Sicilian, "NO!!! She's FRENCH!! LOOK AT HER SHOES!!!!" Good memories. Incidentally, I saw Francesco again and waved when returning from one of the orange-rind hunts.
As usual, with drinks comes potato chips, peanuts, 4 pizette, and 4 arancini. We were enjoying the night, so I stepped inside Scandura to find our lovely Egyptian-esque server, Laura, to order another round. Uncharacteristically, she brought out a second platter of aperitivi, this time with olives. Joe explained we already had some, but Laura put up her pinky finger, saying "Sei un stecchino," — you are a toothpick. Even the servers here are trying to fatten him up.
We got home, Joe dropped me off at the front door, and I put on my PJs. The phone rang. "Are you going to let me into the garage?" Joe asked. I forgot that he needed me to open the door. But I forgot fewer times than he's locked us out.
Tomorrow: Elena's birthday, Mariella & Vincenzo's 49th anniversary, and [Maria] Luisa's onomastico. And Liliana and Raji return home!
With all the activities, it's hard to come up for air! And, it's absolutely perfect.



















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