7:30pm zipping through rainy streets from Palermo
It's not hot like it is during the summer, but the clock stops for no one inSicily
We drive through Bagheria. The Butcher pulls over in a remote apartment complex and talks to a young tall man- under 20 I am guessing. In Sicilian of course, so I don't understand, but I understand... the young man calls to an older man in a beautiful sweater with a weather beaten face and a sporty cap. We drive the car towrds him, we are told to make a left, a right, go straight, and the yellow door on the garage. Knock.
We arrive, we knock. Nothing.
We drive more. The Butcher knows where he is going, I am holding my breath, what are we chasing?
Finally he pulls over fast, rrrkkkk. Parking break on, SLAM. He is out the door. They say communication is key to a good relationship? Not always. When one of you is on a quest, the other is best reminded to shut up and try to keep up. I hoppped out of the car, I wasnt' going to miss this.
One of those little 1.5 seater aluminum foil putt putt trucks with an open back was filled with large cans of white liquid and lots of empty plastic water bottles.
MILK !!! RAW MILK!!! I love this guy of mine.
How much? 1 litre. I cradle my precious gift tenderly. Without thinking, I open the top and sniff. "That milk is 30 minutes old ma'am." I should have waited to sniff. I never thought it would be bad, I just wanted to start enjoying it.
Now only Ricotta and Saffron left.
To the butcher shop for the Ricotta. Yummmm.
Now for saffron.
Remember those fried rice balls? The aranccini of our friend? Yup. Saffron is the ingredient that gives them the nice yellow color.
This stop requires: hugging, panella tasting (not that I am complaining of course) joking with 75 year old Zia Theresa and kidding with her about sex, breast size and the finer things in life.
25 minutes later we have our 1/2 inch of powdered saffron in a plastic water cup.
Risotto and Yogurt here we come.
It's not hot like it is during the summer, but the clock stops for no one in
We drive through Bagheria. The Butcher pulls over in a remote apartment complex and talks to a young tall man- under 20 I am guessing. In Sicilian of course, so I don't understand, but I understand... the young man calls to an older man in a beautiful sweater with a weather beaten face and a sporty cap. We drive the car towrds him, we are told to make a left, a right, go straight, and the yellow door on the garage. Knock.
We arrive, we knock. Nothing.
We drive more. The Butcher knows where he is going, I am holding my breath, what are we chasing?
Finally he pulls over fast, rrrkkkk. Parking break on, SLAM. He is out the door. They say communication is key to a good relationship? Not always. When one of you is on a quest, the other is best reminded to shut up and try to keep up. I hoppped out of the car, I wasnt' going to miss this.
One of those little 1.5 seater aluminum foil putt putt trucks with an open back was filled with large cans of white liquid and lots of empty plastic water bottles.
MILK !!! RAW MILK!!! I love this guy of mine.
How much? 1 litre. I cradle my precious gift tenderly. Without thinking, I open the top and sniff. "That milk is 30 minutes old ma'am." I should have waited to sniff. I never thought it would be bad, I just wanted to start enjoying it.
Now only Ricotta and Saffron left.
To the butcher shop for the Ricotta. Yummmm.
Now for saffron.
Remember those fried rice balls? The aranccini of our friend? Yup. Saffron is the ingredient that gives them the nice yellow color.
This stop requires: hugging, panella tasting (not that I am complaining of course) joking with 75 year old Zia Theresa and kidding with her about sex, breast size and the finer things in life.
25 minutes later we have our 1/2 inch of powdered saffron in a plastic water cup.
Risotto and Yogurt here we come.
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