Zia Michellina's Bruschetta

Since my visit to Agrigento on December 15th I have been eating tomatoes grown and picked in August, from Zio Mario's farm. Fresh, firm, plum tomatoes. They are fresh, fresh 4 months after picking. Zio Mario swears by his "own special method" which grows them "kind of dry," so they remain this way for what is now 4-5 months. Miracles of nature if you ask me.

Today a month or so later, we are with Zia Michelina and Zio Mario as we have been for every family gathering since my arrival on December 11th. This Sunday, hours after our first plate of rigatoni with Bolognese sauce, made with those terrific tomatoes, the conversation turns to antibiotics.

Zia Michelina has a pain in her mouth and I was asked what she should do. I suggested a dentist. But Michelina had been to the dentist and was prescribed antibiotics.

It's interesting. There is a strange distrust of medicine, but a decisive allegiance to it in times of greatest fear. We and I mean many, many of us on the planet seem to blindingly hope that if somehow we are good and take our medicine, don't drink much, eat less, and finally quit smoking after 20, 30, 40 or more years, we can erase all the health transgressions of our lives, and the doctor will help, the medicine will save our lives. The recent mastectomy of a third sister, Rosalina will not metastasize, the chronic digestive difficulty F. has after last Autumn's antibiotic overload for his bronchitis, will just "poof, go away" and the significant girth of other family members will dissolve in the initial moments of a healthier lifestyle.

I am on my soap box when it comes to this topic, I admit it,I apologize in advance, and will limit myself to a momentary perch on Zio Mario's tomato crate before getting to Michelina's terrific recipe.

It seems to me we regard the proper care and medicine as we regard our parents. Either disciplinarian or nurterer. There is no arguing with a doctor or a hospital. The hospital is mostly a place of discipline, where we go as punishment for getting sick, living poorly, smoking or eating too much. Anyone who offers an alternative that seems to be loving, gentle or just familiar, is sought out; and understandably so. Yet, how often do we stay the course of this loving, gentle, alternative treatment - giving it time to really take effect? Not often, I would guess. Alternative medicine is slow medicine. Heard of slow food? This is slow medicine. Both of these require patience and loyalty to their proper applications.

When I am asked about what can someone eat to "get better" my suggestions are not often received with the glee afforded familiar foods or "naughty foods."

Tonight, when asked, I figure garlic couldn't hurt. "L'aglio," I say. Nods of approval. Pause. "Crudo" No nods of approval. Rather some laughter. But good spirited Michelina is pronta* back at work. We peeled little inner cloves of garlic grown in their fields and ate a few. Michelina busied herself with the plastic bags that make up her peculiar form of the casalinga. Soon we had day old bread toasting in the wood burning stove, those indestructible tomatoes, and a tall, noble bottle of green, cold pressed olive oil on the table.

We made Bruschetta in January with tomatoes from August, missing only basil, with a healthy, delicious, medicinal dose of the Mediterranean's antibiotic.

Michelina's Bruschetta
Stale Italian bread
any size will do, sliced into rounds, about 1/2" thick. Larger slices make 8 pieces. Smaller make 16 pieces
10-15 little garlic cloves or 6-10 larger ones,
sliced and minced well
5 teaspoons extra virgin olive oil
(n.b. if the tomatoes are juicy, you may need less olive oil, or you can drain them a bit and add all the oil.)
salt & pepper to taste
6 fresh plum tomatoes, chopped.

4 people/antipasto

1. Grill or bake bread slices until light golden brown.

2. Drain the tomatoes a bit in a colander if they are too wet, then add olive oil, garlic together with salt & pepper.
3.Add tomato mixture on top of grilled bread and serve while still warm.

Best when you and your dinner companion(s) agree to eat these together!

*pronta means ready in Italian. And Zia Michelina is always ready.

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