There’s a delightful element of farce in everyday life on this island.
Sabrina and I are staring at each other with a mixture of confusion and amusement as I attempt to negotiate my way through a crowd of wildly gesticulating, but surprisingly good-humoured pensioners, at our local post office in Catania (we’re staying in the city for a few weeks). Apparently it’s state pension payment day and it looks like most of the assembled throng are going to leave disappointed. All I want to do is buy a stamp to mail the key to our hotel room in Noto back to Andrea its manager, and after a half hour comedy of errors it’s mission accomplished.
This scene has been a metaphor for the brief overnight visit we just spent in the Val di Noto where exquisite beauty, food and wine and utterly charming people blend seamlessly with the theatre of the absurd, staged in a World Heritage site. The setting is incomparable- eight late Baroque towns in a valley laden with citrus and almond trees, constructed in pale limestone in the late 17th century on top of or right next to the remains of the mass destruction caused by an earthquake in 1693.
Act 1, Scene 1 sees us arrive in Noto (which gives its name to the valley) in the early afternoon to what appears to be a completely deserted townscape. Kicking ourselves, we realise that of course Catania’s 24 hour buzz is likely the exception on this island. The station’s cab rank is empty but an old gentleman in an ancient Mercedes suddenly ‘appears’ and offers us a lift. Dropping us by our hotel he announces he has no change, so leaving Sabrina in the ‘cab’ I exit the stage in pursuit. The wild goose chase continues at check in, where there’s no reception desk, manned or otherwise and as there’s only a chamber maid in the building, I have to persuade her to call the manager and get permission to open up our room.
Repairing to a café for a restorative espresso and a freshly squeezed blood orange ‘spremuta’, we map Geranio (a restaurant with an array of gluten free pasta and pizza options, that Sabrina has been really looking forward to visiting). It’s a little strange that we are the only lunchtime diners (we greatly surprised the sole waiter with our arrival and he in turn surprised us even more by leaving the restaurant while we were still eating, so that we had to disturb the kitchen to settle up)! No matter, as we enjoy delicious Caponata, followed by a most unusual fennel, garlic, tomato and almond pasta.
More hilarity ensues on the way back to our hotel as we duck inside a derelict palace and spy a strange glowing light suspended in mid air in a pitch black void. “It’s scary” says Sabrina and then the glow moves, revealing a security guard watching a portable tv at the top of a staircase. Laughing fit to burst, we run from the building.
Declaring that she might as well join the rest of the town for a siesta, I drop Sabrina at the room and begin my exploration. I’ve seldom seen so many beautiful buildings crammed into eight blocks by four and they are anchored by a spine of shops and cafés on Corso Vittorio Emanuele. Linked by vertiginous stone stairways which reveal campaniles, ornate roof tops, whole families of stone cherubs supporting wrought iron balconies and glimpses of citrus and almond tree orchards in the far distance at every turn, this pocket honey-coloured streetscape, is late baroque perfection.
We join the crowds for the passeggiata and throngs of clinking Aperol spritz glasses cast magical bright orange reflections on sunlit limestone walls. Dinner is every bit as good as lunch but all the better for us barely getting the last table on the terrace at Al Buco, where a bottle of Nero d’Avola accompanies rabbit with peppers and fat racks of lamb chops followed by sublime pistachio gelato. As daylight fades the buildings on the Corso Vittorio Emmanuele are stunningly lit up.
Vegan Pistachio Gelato: Serves 4-6
The rich volcanic soil in the Val di Noto and at Bronte, a little town in the foothills of Mt Etna are ideal for growing pistachios, but in all honesty you can find beautiful ones almost everywhere on this island.
I’m making more and more vegan desserts these days as I like the challenge, and that second or third scoop is a whole lot healthier. Al Buco’s gelatos are made the traditional way and delicious for it, but I challenge you to try this non-dairy recipe and see if you can tell the difference.
400ml almond milk
90ml soy cream
133gm cane sugar
114gm raw pistachio meat
16ml cold pressed avocado oil
Put the milk, cream and sugar in a saucepan; bring to just below boiling (the sugar should be melted). Pour into a container and place in freezer to cool down.
Put the pistachios in a heat proof container and microwave for two minutes. Remove, let them cool a little and then peel off the skins.
Put the peeled pistachios and oil in a blender. Blend until smooth and runny. Leave in blender.
Remove the milk mixture from freezer when cold and pour into the pistachio mixture. Blend until well combined.
Pour mixture into ice cream maker and churn until ready. When ready put in a sealed container and freeze until ready to be served.
Optional: add chopped pistachio nuts while churning.
I have to be honest that it was not just architecture that brought us to Noto, as Caffé Sicilia is arguably its most famous landmark and known island-wide for its brioches and granitas. Grabbing a pavement table for a late breakfast and almond milk cappuccinos, I order the classic coffee granita with a still warm brioche and Sabrina’s GF hazelnut and chocolate cream cake with nuts from the Nebrodi mountains is every bit as enjoyable.
With time for one last but different perspective on the town I am the first to climb the steps to the top of Campanile San Carlo and am staggered afresh by its beauty.
Joking back at the hotel with Andrea, (who turns out not only to be the manager, but also to have grown up in the building when it was a small palazzo, which he inherited from his parents), about navigating the pitch dark stone staircase and fumbling our way along the corridor to our room late last night (a fuse had apparently blown), we promise to come back and stay once they’ve built the rooftop bar, completed the restaurant that’s in the works and got the place re-wired!
He orders us a cab and we have a spirited conversation in a mixture of Italian, Spanish and English with our young Argentine driver, who is here to get his Italian citizenship while he also works in construction and in the hotel by the station. We have a good laugh about the chaos of his home country versus the beautiful chaos of Sicily, having experienced both at first hand ourselves. Luigi Pirandello, who lent his name to the Pirandello farce genre, and who was born in a district nicknamed ‘Caos’, a suburb of Agrigento about three hours west of here, would no doubt have cracked an ironic smile.
No wonder I didn’t notice that the large metal hotel room key was still in my pocket!
A hugely enjoyable article in which Marco effortlessly captures Sicily's chaotic charm. The joy of these foodie travelogues is the vivid images they conjure up and the memories they rekindle of one's own journeys. One of our favourite holidays ever was spent at the Grand Hotel Timeo in the beautiful Sicilian town of Taormina. The only downside was bumping into Silvio Berlusconi and his fierce bodyguards in the hotel lobby
I buy them at my small, local ice cream shop - they use traditional, home made methods, I supposed similar to what you have described. One day I will make it, myself, I hope ...