No Catania, Giordano's last day, Scandura dining

Crudi del mare

Up early today, I should have captured the sunrise, but here are pics of the moments shortly after. Etna was wearing a fuzzy gray stocking cap this morning.

Baby pink sky

Etna's plume behind the rooftops, through the balcony screen.

As we arrived at the vineyard to switch cars for our trip to Catania, we learned that Giulio has a well-baby check up, so Elena and Mariella are using the available car (the Clio is soaking wet inside, from windows being open during the storm) and Luisa and Ciro were having their last lunch here today. We switched plans, and decided to hang out at the vigne, and reschedule Catania for Thursday, when less is going on. We had some time to kill while at the vigne.

Joe was able to work from his phone, and I went for a walk. Last night's downpour cleaned the air, but left slushy puddles of volcanic ash. I shuddered in recollection of college time cigarette-smokers' ashtrays, except the liquid then was beer in the ash, not rain. This version smelled better.

Etna calmed a bit from her smoky start this morning, although she wasn't all that visible from the road, which is a snaky cavern below fortified embankments. Speaking of which, workers are constructing a new stone wall along this road. We've been watching the progressive wonder of their work; a hybrid of math and art, but I didn't photograph the workers' laborious efforts. They have enough to focus on.

Some pretty neighboring vineyard views:

Lavender and rosemary shrubs line many a road here.

Lunch was a simple dish of rice, peas, and prosciutto cotto, with bits of egg yolk cooked into little balls of rice. It was fine, but not my very favorite. Matteo, however, sitting across from me, ate it with such gusto and commentary ("Mmmmm! Buono! Mmmm Mmmm Mmmmmm! Delizioso!") that he downed two heaping platefuls. He couldn't shovel it in fast enough, using a spoon and scooping it into his mouth from the wide side. Giuseppe Uno, sitting next to me, quietly put down his fork and had a teaching moment with Matteo's spoon technique, telling him the pointy part goes into your mouth first. Matteo never stopped his running commentary, but corrected his method. I applaud the shaping of humans for polite society. Giuseppe is a good dad.

Rachi's school and tennis coach have learned of an opportunity for her to spend a school year in Toronto, Canada. She's adamant she wants to be in the US, so Elena called me over to offer reinforcements. Alessandro, on the other hand, pulled up pictures of leprechauns and of the Iceland coastline, suggesting she should consider Ireland or Iceland. He taunted her endlessly, resulting in Rachi looking at me and saying, in English, "I want to get farther away from HIM!" (with a smile).

After lunch, there was clean up, and hugs and goodbyes for Ciro and Luisa. They've invited us to stay at their (well-appointed) home in Avellino. Having run a funeral business for years, we left them with the recommendation to watch Six Feet Under. Though as Joe pointed out, the title is lost on them, as they don't bury their dead underground.

We made our way back to Biancavilla, where Joe made some phone calls and I spent a couple of hours on my Asia trip homework, discovering that I messed up some connections and reservations which, unfortunately, were in the non-refundable category. I should learn not to choose the cheapest plan, since things change. I've sent some imploring emails. I'm mad at myself, but trying to let go of worrying about how much this is costing. On the one hand, it feels frivolous; on the other, life is too short. Time to start grabbing it by the horns.

We freshened up and drove to Scandura for supper tonight. Ciro and Luisa, the Rapisardas, and some friends were going to someone's house for a catered meal, and we've been jonesing for a Scandura meal.

Joe ordered a Negroni, and I said I'd start with a glass of the wine we're having with dinner — a lively Etnaen cataratto, whose scent was almost enough to satisfy the palette. Almost.

Starting with a platter of crudi di mare, we tucked ourselves into raw seafood splendor: oysters served with a lemon-gin squirt, red shrimp, astice (a tiny front-clawed lobster), firm octopus, marinated whole anchovies, and a baccalà salad that may have been my favorite thing.

Next, we each had pasta with crema di gamberi, a shrimp dish we've previously enjoyed. Each time, it's a bit different from the last. Tonight's version was a bit too tomato-forward, though delicious. I cleaned my plate. The "crema" is not from cream (horrors!!!! No dairy with seafood!!!!), but from pureed shrimp.

We finished with a simple insalate misticanza, meaning I ate most of it and Joe drank an amaro.

I was absolutely stuffed. 

Crudi di mare

The syringe of lemon gin for the oysters

Chilling Cataratto. Look at the cute cork presentation.

Crema di gamberi

Having eaten far too much, I told Joe I'd walk home while he took the car. The night's cooler air and the relative hush of the streets beckoned me.

They've reopened! I want to check it out!

Le Grotte bar area

An unfolding street

Joe brought out the garbage, and I climbed into bed. It hasn't been a jam-packed day, but we needed one like this.

Tomorrow, everyone vacates the vigne and comes back to Biancavilla. This is our last night of having the entire building to ourselves.