Marina O’Loughlin eats
Sicily
I
This month our columnist explores the Etna region of the Italian island, and is enchanted by the dramatic landscapes, frisky rosato wines and abundance of gorgeous produce, from pistachios to lemons and acorn-fed pigs
t’s impossible to escape Mount Etna’s majestic, lowering presence on Sicily, the volcano’s smokepuffing peak looming into view around every corner. The ancient little towns that cling to its slopes look slightly charred, the low-slung buildings coated with a light lacquering of sooty dust. The churches are made from volcanic stone, dark and brooding. But the fire-breathing mountain makes its presence felt in other, less melodramatic ways. The volcanic soil is almost miraculous – everything seems to grow bigger, sweeter, more packed with flavour than anywhere else. The grounds of our temporary home, the ravishing Rocca delle Tre Contrade (trecontrade.com), sprout groves of fat lemons, vegetable and herb patches, and fruit trees as far as the eye can see. G&Ts feature lemons plucked moments ago. The villa’s produce turns up at the table too: forest fruits for breakfast, freshly podded peas and garlands of herbs at dinner. This meticulously restored piece of Sicilian history is usually booked by larger groups, but we’re lucky enough to have it – and its breathtaking infinity pool – to ourselves. Our hosts, Jon Moslet and Marco Scire, are thoroughly immersed in the region’s culinary traditions: they’re installing a cookery school in the building’s lower floors, due to play host to a number of big-name chefs. And they’re determined to show us the best butchers, and where to buy the finest fish: at their suggestion we make a pilgrimage to nearby Riposto to watch the fishermen unload their catch of velvety red prawns, tuna,
108 BBC Good Food Middle East November 2016
sardines, swordfish and local exotica I can’t put a name to, straight onto the market’s marble slabs. Or where to find the most delicious arancini stuffed with pistachios in the unassuming Nuovo Caffè al Portico (+39 347 554 0535) in Carruba. They organise an outing to the Nebrodi Mountains, a national park. The landscape starts to change dramatically – stark monochromes of rock and silver birch, glittering veins of petrified lava – as does the weather; it feels more like Scotland. The woodland is alive with wild ingredients, including fiddlehead ferns, wild garlic, berries, lampascioni (an edible wild hyacinth bulb) and cardoons. With Sicilian humour, there’s something called cosce di vecchia – old lady’s thighs – because the leaves are wrinkled and hairy. Lunch for our band of hungry foragers is a bit special. In the rather functional-looking Hotel Mazzurco in Cesarò (+39 095 773 2129), just where the mountains proper begin, chef and son of the house Gianluca Barbagallo – who has one of the Three Little Pigs tattooed on his arm – serves up a feast: own-made salumi, including the beloved Sicilian gelatina, lemonscented pork jelly studded with piggy bits. A whole acorn-fed Nebrodi baby pig, slow-roasted in a wood-burning oven, is exquisite: the skin lacquered into a caramel crisp, the meat succulent and fragrant with garlic and wild fennel. There’s a salad of sweet ruby blood oranges, more fennel and wrinkly black olives to counteract the opulence, tangles of prized sparacogna (a bitter
wild asparagus) and potatoes layered with olive oil and rosemary. The pork is every bit as glorious as its celebrated Iberian cousin. For a brief foray away from the mountainside, we head for Taormina, long the chic destination for film stars and millionaires, thanks to its ravishing location and yearly film festival. You can imagine bumping into La Loren round one of its steep, cobbled corners. Instead we find Tischi Toschi (tischitoschitrattoria.com); recommended to me by Yotam Ottolenghi, a tiny little joint down a hidden alleyway. We sit outside, thrilling to the powerfully Sicilian flavours: wild fennel ‘meatballs’ – meatfree polpette – topped with fennel seed, tiny dark raisins and pine nuts. Handmade carob tagliatelle dressed with sardines and toasted breadcrumbs; ‘slow food’ sheep’s cheese, maiorchino. A cocktail on the terrace of the super-swish Belmond Grand Hotel Timeo (belmond.com) with its gasp-making view is the perfect sundowner, but I’m pining to get back to Etna. We drive through Bronte, otherwise undistinguished, but the source of those preternaturally delicious pistachios, which turn up in everything from cannoli to fabulously intricate pasticcerie, to plates of pasta dressed with a pesto of the nuts – just about my favourite pasta dish ever. Caffetteria Luca (caffetterialuca.com) is the Mecca for everything pistachio: we land on a public holiday and the atmosphere is of barely contained mayhem, u