Let me start this off by saying that the agriculture of Sicily is very similar to that of California. The fruits of Sicily are mainly lemons, limes, oranges, grapes, figs, cactus fruit, nectarines, pears, watermelon, and plums. Sound familiar? So as you can imagine, being a product of the bay area and the daughter of the fresh grocer I had grown up hearing about these magnificent fruits that were hard to find. I never understood exactly what my father always preached about when he said "sweet lemons" or "sugar buttery pears" until I went to the farmers market here, in Taormina, and had one straight from the truck. It was like nothing I had ever tasted. The oranges and nectarines do not have any tart, they drip sweet juices the second they are bit and release such a flavor its hard to notice you have fruit juice all over your face. The lemons here do not make you twist your face up in a knot-they are sweet, tangy, fresh, and have the the juices of lemonade without added water or sugar.
Today, after being here nearly a month my routine is very similar. I wake up around 8 o'clock, get ready for school and on the way I stop at the market, Mercato Communale. In order to get there, you walk up side streets and then down what appears to be a dead end street called Via Giovanni Mazzoni. The outside is filled with truck loads of fish, meats of all kinds and produce. The people outside and inside are all locals, or restaurant owners. Everything here is fresh from that morning and it closes early afternoon, generally around 12 but it also depends on when the workers decide its lunch time. Mercato Communale is in a giant garage, and each section is dedicated to meat, fish, flowers, or produce and every section has its regular, respected workers. The smell inside is always the perfume of the flowers and produce; and while you may think that the fish would throw off pretty scents, it only adds a salty aroma to the mix. The woman behind the produce stand has become my morning fruit angel. Here's why: when I walk in, as if out of nowhere she pulls out a crate of the freshest fruit from that day, whether it be plums, oranges, my usual pears, or figs- I take as much as I can eat that day she seems to always know exactly what I need and she never fails me. We've come to know each other and she may be one of my favorite people here; like the generations before me, the way to my heart is apparently through produce.
My first morning here in Taormina I went to the market and bought the smallest pear I had ever seen. Normally, I would have gone for the bigger, healthy looking ones but then I noticed how many crates of these tiny ones were laid out. 'There must be a higher demand' I thought to myself, and I bought four in order to compensate for their size. (It only came out for 0.89 Euro). Now, I've fallen in love once in my life so I know the feeling, and there is a very good chance that my first bite into this pear was the second time. Sugary pear juice actually poured onto my palate and the skin itself was like satin. The pear inside was so soft I could have gone without even chewing it, but it still wasn't too mushy. At the risk of sounding obsessive, let me be brief by saying the remaining three pears didn't survive 5 minutes after the first one.
The key to understanding this freshness is realizing that the reason Sicilian produce is world renowned is because fruit here is real. It organic, its fresh, and if it's not in season its not on your plate. No frills.
ciao ciao
Stephanie
ciao ciao
Stephanie
