This morning we went for coffee and a pastry in downtown Sciacca. As we were slurping (espresso for Ramona, cappucino for me) and downing a tiny cornetto stuffed with pistachio cream, a slim, well-turned out woman who appeared to be in her 40’s sauntered up to the gelato bar, her considerable cleavage on display as she hung over the pots full of the house specialties. We watched in amazement as the server took a sweet looking bun, halved it, then stuffed it with fior de crema gelato. (translates as rich, and richer) Then he turned on a machine full of whipped cream and piled a few gobs on top of the bun, stuck a spoon in the gelato/cream mix and handed it over to our Sicilian Nigella. Forsaking the spoon, at least to start, she lustfully bit into the bun, leaving a smear of cream all over her lips. This was very sexy!
After we recovered, we were off to the Sciacca Terme Piscina, a large swimming pool fed by sulphurous hot springs, reputed to have healing powers for those with skin conditions and stuff like rheumatoid arthritis. After a nice hour-long soak, Ramona thinks she has been cured, at least for today!
We also toured the port area of Sciacca and stopped for lunch at Ristorante Al Faro, a nice family-oriented trattoria where we indulged our seafood fantasies. I had mussels in tomato sauce and spaghetti with sardines, while Ramona had a chewy-in-the-right-way spaghetti vongole. (doesn’t that sound better than spaghetti with clams?)
The Italian Job: Our car is not an Austin Mini, just a little Fiat Panda, but not so little that we don’t have to pull in the side-view mirrors as we negotiate the narrow streets of Sicilian hill towns. Today I had to pilot my way through a seething mass of shoppers at a flea market that was set up just outside of our hotel, then gun it down a mass of hairpin turns to get to the port area. Thanks to my ancestors for proving those Sicilian driving genes once again!
Pic of the Day: Me, spaghetti in mouth. Ramona says it’s the real me, captured in digits.
Pic of the Day, Two. This guy has the longest fishing pole I've ever seen. Looks like he's having a nice day, even if he never gets a bite.
I could not bring myself to “go Sicilian” to the extent of actually eating gelato in brioche con panna. I had a talk with some folks at the gelateria about it though. They said they’ve just always eaten ice cream that way and it is not to be considered a dessert by a “pasto” or meal.
typo alert: I meant to say “but a ‘pasto’ or meal” not “by”.
Hey Don – looks like a good time. My boyfriend recommends the town of Piazza Armerina, one hour outside of Sciacca. Cheers!
And you didn’t take her picture! Fearlessness is required by bloggers.
The food grabbed my attention, but it was that fishing pole that kept it.
I’m so worried for the poor man – how is he going to keep control if e=he actually catches anything?!
Cheers.