Sicilian Sojourn – Day 3 – Shake and Bake, or We Had Some Good Stinco

This is the view from Enna, a central Sicilian capital from which you can see Mount Etna.  The volcano did not erupt, but we were very hot. (baked)  The 'shake' part came from Ramona's constant worries as I drove our gutless little Fiat Panda up and down mountainous roads, complete with hairpin turns and crazy drivers who love to pass around curves and hills.  Even on the highway you have to watch out, as the slow lane is too slow for me, and the fast lane is too fast for me, so there is a lot of in and out.  The first car that cut me off after we picked up the rental car was a silver-grey Mercedes hearse.  Somehow its occupant was in a hurry to get somewhere more urgently than we were…maybe that's how he/she ended up in the hearse in the first place!

From Enna we carried on our shaking and baking to Ragusa Ibla, an old baroque town. The directions for the B+B ended miles away from where we were supposed to be.  A $10 phone call on Ramona's iPhone later, the owner came and met us in his car and led us through a completely incomprehensible route to his place, which is very lovely and from where the car will not budge until we leave tomorrow morning.

Paolo at the B+B recommended a great restaurant to us and we wandered our way through the narrow, winding streets to find it.  That was after we collapsed for some well-deserved R+R after the day's drive….I didn't tell Ramona at that moment that our next accommodation in Sciacca may be just as difficult to find.  After we finished dinner we saw where the townsfolk collect to chat and drink and just generally have a good time well into the evening. Such a nice way to spend part of your life!  We need more 'piazzas' in Canada, and front porches where we can watch life go by and talk to our neighbours.

And the good 'stinco'?  We shared a shin of pork at the restaurant, the Quattro Gatti (4 Cats), along with excellent antipasti, ravioli, gnocchi Norma and decadent cannoli and watermelon gelatine.  Stinco is the name of the shin of pork.  I had heard of it before when I lived in Italy but Ramona could not get over the name.  "Why would anyone order something that sounds like stink?"  She wanted me to tell the waitress/owner to change it.  I refused.  Some things just have to be stinky.  Sorry our pic of the day is a little blurry, but lighting was low (we don't use flash in restaurants) and we were on our second half litre of wine! (Nero d'Avola)