The beginning of November has traditionally been a time for the dead in Italy. A mix of somber religious reflection, modern costume parties and bittersweet remembrances of deceased family members, the Italian celebrations have roots which stretch back centuries, but which have also been affected by outside influence, particularly American.
As we were leaving the Santa Caterina on Plaza Bellini, eyes still bruised by the church's baroque extravagance, another of our senses came under attack. Like Micky Mouse following the scent of cake, we became captive to a strong whiff of coffee. Powerless to resist, we were carried to the doors of Torrefazione Ideal.
This might be common throughout Italy, but Palermo is the first time we've encountered a store that sells wine by the liter, as though it were gas. Pumped from a tank, through a nozzle into a large plastic container, with a ticker racking up the price, really as though it were gas. It's even about the same price.
The first time I saw someone walking down the street in Palermo, eating ice cream in a bun, I thought, "What a weirdo". The second time I saw it, I thought, "Is this some sort of crazy Sicilian specialty?" The third time I saw it, I thought, "That looks delicious". And the fourth time I saw someone eating ice cream in a bun, it was because I spotted my own blissful reflection in a storefront window.
Reading that one of Palermo's favorite dishes is pasta con le sarde, spaghetti with sardines and fennel, didn't exactly set my stomach on fire with unquenchable desire. But after seeing plate after plate being ordered at Ristorante Amato, near the Teatro Massimo, I figured there must be something to it. So I hopped on the bandwagon and ordered my first ever pasta/sardine/fennel dish. And it won't be my last.
On the streets of Palermo, the only things which stick out more than the ancient palaces are big Sicilian bellies. The sight of obese men puttering around on Vespas is a daily amusement, and even many of the toddlers have a few pounds on me. Of course, it's all perfectly understandable. Along with pizza, pasta and ice cream, Sicilians turn out to be masters of fried food.
There are things in life which you shouldn't form an opinion on until after you've tried them. A new city, perhaps, or a job. Movies, acquaintances. Things that require familiarity before a sound judgment can be made. Arancine, however, do not fall into this category. As soon as I heard them described, I knew they'd be my new favorite food of all time. Didn't even need to taste one.
