Eating my way through Sicily

Imagine staying in medieval monasteries converted into world-class hotels and villas. View picture perfect medieval towns climbing up mountainsides. Explore unique Baroque cathedrals incorporating aspects from all its conquerors, Byzantine to Norman. Taste food so fresh it still has a garden fragrance. Drink wine with the proud vintner showing off his carefully trimmed vines. This is how I always imagined Sicily and this is the Sicily I found.

On Arrival…

Traveling with a few old and new friends, our initial arrival was a bit reminiscent of old Italian jokes. The flight into Rome from New York was on time, but the hike to the Palermo gate is not for anyone without a strong pair of legs. The flight left late, no explanation given. Finding our luggage in Palermo was yet another issue, with one bag mysteriously disappearing for several hours.

Once outside the airport, even in the light drizzle and clouds, the impression of beauty and history is immediately apparent. The history of Sicily is the history of Europe, from the Punic wars to Carthaginian domination, to Greek settlement and the Roman Empire. Through the domination of the Moors for 300 years tp the Bourbons, the Normans and the Byzantine Empire, Sicily has been the jewel in the crown of civilizations.

With all this history, Palermo is a jumble of architectural styles, old streets in the historic quarter ending in magnificent courtyards, often an open and outdoor museum. Our delightful local guide, Roberta, imparted enough enthusiasm to keep even our weary jet-lagged bodies going. Our first stop, after driving through late Sunday morning traffic, was a quick stop at the special Palantine chapel. Whatever we missed in the Chapel was eclipsed by several amazing churches. First we explored the amazing Byzantine mosaics of Santa Maria. Then on to the unique Sicilian Baroque style of St. Catherine. The influence of centuries and all the great empires can be traced just through a tour of religious architecture in Palermo.

First Impressions

After nothing but airplane food for 24 hours, our first taste of Sicily was rather urgently anticipated. We were not disappointed. The four-star Excelsior Palace hotel, located in the shopping district of Palermo, served our very hungry and thirsty group a delightful range of tastes. We started with a plate of lovely little tastes, curly little pastas in very fresh tomato sauce, grilled eggplant or breaded meat served with rosemary potatoes on a crispy shell, rich ricotta pie for desert. Washed down with a local wine, of course. No surprise that 11 tired travelers napped on the bus ride up into the hills to our wonderful “estate” the Relais Sant’Anastasia.

This restored Benedectine monastery, with original walls dating from the 11^th century, is the epitome of country elegance. Its 29 rooms, each one unique, are charming and comfortable, with hardwood floors, tiled bathrooms, country-style furniture. There was nothing rustic or unsophisticated about our dinner, though, served in the adjoining Ristorante La Corte dell Albate. From the quiche-like fresh ricotta and mushroom starter to the rich creamy wild berries parfait the dinner was superb. It didn’t hurt that the accompanying Sicilian wine was tart and tasty, definitely not the stuff of old jokes. I doubt there will be time to go hungry or thirsty on this trip. I just hope there will be time tomorrow to see our wonderful abbey and its surrounding vineyards.

Cefalu and Other Hidden Places

The next day started out very cloudy, with thick fog and a penetrating dampness. Walking across the cobblestone courtyard to our breakfast room the thick air had an almost magical quality. Our morning repast was a little late, as our host had to wait for the fresh bread to finish baking before coming to the Relais. To go with the wonderful bread, still warm from the oven, were fresh cheeses, fruit, coffee and teas, thinly sliced ham, cereals, marmalades and spreads.

Today’s adventures started off with a drive along the northern coast. With the fog lifting, we were looking at a spectacular coast line, and postcard-perfect villages built along the sides of lush mountains. We were traveling to parts of Sicily many visitors do not see and it was delightful. The entire valley is dotted with vineyards, the vineyards responsible for the nice wine last night. We are driving along the edge of the national park, and where there are no vineyards there is a profusion of plants.

Our first destination was the charming town of Cefalu. Their magnificent cathedral, in Sicilian Romanesque style, dates from 1131. The frescoes show the Byzantine influence as well as Roman, reflecting the Norman desire to rule both east and west, and their attempts at a religious synthesis. There is a gorgeous, ornate huge silver alter, weighing in at over 1400 pounds, possibly the most massive in Europe.

The chilly dampness was not conducive to much exploration of Cefalu’s square. It was time for a fortifying stop for a latte or espresso or, for anyone not chilled by the rain, a pastachio gelato. Plus it was a chance to try the beautiful Sicilian special marzipan. (I confess it looked prettier than it tasted, at least to one for whom sweets begin and end with chocolate.)

Sufficiently revived, the next stop was the Mandralisca museum. Once a Baron’s house, the Venetian styled home is filled with beautiful works of art, archeological artifacts (including a collection of stuffed birds and once-indigenous animals), and priceless paintings, including the famous Unknown Man by Antonella da Messina. By this time, early afternoon, the sun had poked out and we could enjoy the atmosphere of an old Sicilian town.

Food and Games

It was Monday, and time to change money. It is also Italy and nothing involving legalities is simple or quick. Entry into the local bank is carefully controlled. A very patient Sicilian couple inside the bank gestured what I should do. Eventually I understood that it was necessary to hold my finger down on the blinking button for what seemed a very long time. Once my fingerprint had been fully digitized, entry was allowed. Then a number obtained, and the wait started. Finally, we were permitted to approach a bank teller who cheerfully offered us money-saving advice on change fees. Or maybe we were providing the afternoon’s entertainment. I expect the bank employees were laughing about the four ignorant American women all afternoon!

Sicily is nothing if not about food. And that includes upholding their reputation for fresh cheese. It does not get any fresher or better than at the dairy farm Azienda Zootechnica Bergi. The setting is as delightful as our hostess Anna. I wish I could remember the names of everything I ate, from the creamy very fresh ricotta to the string cheese-like ball, to several mildly pungent hard cheeses. There was rich yogurt, fresh olives, a half dozen locally made unusual fresh spreads, plus accompanying crusty bread. All this was washed down with homemade wine followed by a huge pan of dessert. And this is supposed to be our “light” lunch!

Fully sated, it was off again, with a few alterations in the itinerary. Castle closed, so a little more time to explore the streets and local products (more food!) of Castelbuono. Time for tasting unique Pistachio spread on special breads. Time for sharing a little Proseccio in the local bar and providing some amusement for the local bar regulars not used to foreign women invading their domain. Time for joining the centuries old passaggiata along the winding streets before returning to our lovely Relais and another unique dinner.

This time everything except dessert was made of fish: smoked fish with salad, grouper stuffed ravioli in Mediterranea sauce, fish soup, large pieces of local fish in a lightly flavored broth. Chocolate cake with cinnamon oranges. More locally produced wine. I could get used to this.

A Rainy Day in the Hill of Vases

Unfortunately the next day had an ominous start. Besides being tired from chatting late into the night with new friends, the thick clouds show no sign of letting up. Indeed, once the rain started it never stopped. This was to be our day to admire the amazing wide stone steps inlaid with tiles dating from 1608 that are the highlight of any trip to Caltgirone. The name is derived from Arabic, another example of Sicily’s complex history, meaning Hill of Vases. This is a center of ceramics, a city dotted with shops selling the local wares. Despite the rain, we try to do the town justice, dutifully climbing most of the 142 ceramic-tiled steps dedicated to Santa Maria del Monte, spending a bit in the town shops before ending at a local factory where everything is done by hand. By the time everyone is done with their purchases, the rain is relentless and the drive to Ragusa exhausting. Too bad—the countryside must be stunning.

Our long drive in the downpour has a magical ending, the luxurious Eremo della Guibiliana located in the midst of pristine Sicilian countryside. The once feudal estate dates to the 12^th century, eventually becoming a fortified hermitage. Owned by the same family since the 18^th century it is now one of Sicily’s most famous places to stay. I doubt the monks ever knew such 5 star luxury. The nooks and crannies, little alcove rooms off the roaring fireplace are inviting, the vaulted dining room an elegant setting for an amazing meal with an equally amazing wine. The bottle just said “Nero de’Avola Sicily 2006”, but to only call it by the grape varietal common in Sicily is an injustice. It was our gold standard for more than a few different bottles consumed. Equally amazing was my Mousse al Cioccolato di Modica. Sicily also has its own unique chocolate, delicious under any circumstances (for a confirmed chocoholic) but amazing in this torte-like mousse. In between we savored a perfect fresh from the garden salad, freshly made pasta, beef tenderloin (Tagliata di manzo con salsa al Nero d’Avola), or stuffed mussels. I could learn to like this.

Ragusa, Siracusa, and Taormina

In case I hadn’t had enough to eat for dinner, the breakfast buffet, lit through the high arched windows by a sun struggling to come out, was another feast. Fruits, yogurt, more wonderful cheese, crusty bread, great coffee, and even some Prosecco if so inclined to start another day of exploration. Now that the rain has stopped, a brief walking tour of our estate reveals its pristine location, unbelievable grounds and the gardens that have fed us so well. This is a place to be savored. Unfortunately our exploration of Sicily must continue.

Bright sunshine makes the previous day just a faded memory. Besides, there are more towns to explore. Ragusa is a comfortable combination of personalities, upper Ragusa and lower Ragusa Ibla. The city was built on the edge of a gorge. After exploring the interesting and varied churches surrounding it, the local square, the Giardino Ibleo, is the place for an evening stroll and a pleasant repast from the adjoining cafes and restaurants. Time did not allow that for us, but after a walk up to the imposing Santa Maria della Scala, there was enough time to enjoy the most amazing gelato I have ever had—dark rich Sicilian chocolate flavored with chili peppers. I still remember the luscious rich chocolate followed by a slightly fiery explosion in the back of my mouth. It’s enough reason to plan a return visit

From Ragusa it was on and up the southeast coast to Siracusa and the island of Ortigia. Under the Greeks, Siracusa became a center of Mediterranean power. Conquest by Rome ended its power, and subsequent waves of conquest had little effect. The great earthquake of 1693 leveled much of the city, and while there are ruins to see, notably the catacombs, and Sicilian Baroque masterpieces, most of the sightseeing is found on the adjoining pedestrian-only peninsula of Ortigia. There the beautiful square, anchored by the cathedral and surrounded by shops and outdoor cafes, evokes the architectural splendor of an ancient Sicilian town. Ortigia is small, but the absence of any cars or busses works as an invitation to wander and explore. There are markets, the skinny streets of the Guidecca, the Piazza Archimede with its fountain depicting Arethusa the symbol of Ortigia, and restored medieval palazzi. It would be nice to linger, but it is getting late and it will be a long drive to Taoarmina.

Arrival in Taormina is nothing short of spectacular. The legendary jewel of Sicily, existing in the shadow of Mt. Etna, is a gem of little streets winding up the moutainside. Big busses are not allowed, only cars and small vans like ours. Even in the dark it is obviously beautiful. In the morning there will be time to explore the history and admire Taormina’s perfect setting, other than the occasional Mt. Etna eruptions. The evening though belongs to the unbelievable San Dominca Palace, Taromina’s finest hotel. The elegant rooms have been designed to preserve the original 15^th century convent; in the old wing each room is unique, the low doors the original openings to the monks’ cells. From most rooms, the balconies view either the exquisite gardens or the sea, sometimes both. In the newer area where my room is located (newer meaning dating from the 1800’s) the oversized accommodations overlook a picture perfect view of the Ionian Sea.

But first there was entry into the gracious lobby and a reception in the great high-ceilinged lounge with deep chairs, a large fireplace, and welcoming staff. Sipping Prosecco, nibbling on the special fresh capers and olives, slivers of raw swordfish on silver spoons, skewers of fresh cheese, I could listen to our host all evening. Sicily is about beauty and history and enjoying life. So why should I be surprised to hear the hotel has a registry of every guest and which room they stayed in? This sounded trivial until one of my travel companions explained that years ago an American honeymoon couple conceived their son during their stay. Now their son plans to visit Sicily and would like to stay at San Dominica. Yes, our host assured us it can arranged for the son to in the very same room his parents enjoyed!

Despite the long day, despite the bountiful reception, it is time to go off for one last grand meal, to a typical Sicilian restaurant. Although A Massaria is well known in Taormina, March is still off-season and we have most of the restaurant to ourselves. The lack of other diners apparently does not discourage our host. After platters of eggplant dishes, olives, various cheeses and other assorted antipasti, there is the pasta course. When we cannot eat any more there is roasted pork or grilled swordfish. And of course canolo for dessert. I’m beginning to think it might be nice to skip a meal. But first a good night’s sleep.

Breakfast at San Dominca is another overloaded food experience, also in a beautiful setting. At this point the scheduled walking tour might better be described as a waddle. Taormina is charming, a classic hilltop treasure. Two ancient squares flank either end of the main pedestrian street, with plenty of churches, shops and ruins to satisfy either the shopper or the serious. There can’t be a coliseum with a more spectacular view. From the upper seats one can look through the remains of Greek columns and Roman arches to imposing Mt. Etna that still occasionally entertains with fiery eruptions. Talk about a backup band. No wonder concerts are regularly performed here.

The Last Supper (For Now)

No trip to Sicily would be complete without one last meal and one last sample of wine. The slopes of Mt Etna are known for growing excellent grapes, and it is up the mountain to the prestigious Tenuta Chiusa del Signore whose wines are internationally known. From the beautiful restored estate there are views of both Mt. Etna and the sea. It was a perfect afternoon. Now all old friends we drank wine from the slopes of Mt. Etna, and feasted on more delicious Sicilian food—eggplant caponato, huge marinated mushrooms, vinaigrette flavored artichokes, fresh cheese, crisp breadsticks, olives, sun-dried tomatoes. Then hot eggplant, then hot pasta, rolls of spaghetti inside rolled slices of eggplant. Plates of canolo passed as quickly as the chef could fill the crispy shells.

It’s time to drive back to Taormina, time to make one last stop for those beautiful Italian scarves or Italian shoes and purses, or maybe a few Gucci shirts. The 3 am wakeup call to begin the journey home will come all too soon. Meanwhile, the sun is shining, the wine is flowing, the food is delicious, and Sicily is wonderful.

Tales from the Seraglio in 21st Century Style

A Courtyard Hotel may not be an exotic start to a trip to Turkey, but after another long brutal flight it is a bed and shower that counts. There is time later for the exotic, or to see if the exotic has changed in the seventeen years since my previous visit. The great art, the famous tiles of Izmir, the archeological wonders and historic sights should still be here. In the morning it will be off to Kayseri and the wonders of Cappadocia before 3 days of meetings and conference sessions. Rest is what I crave now, along with some clean clothes. And something to replace the hair gel left sitting on my dresser.

Actually, it is pretty clear this isn’t Northeast Ohio. There is the security screen, the charming front desk staff, the occasional chardor-clad woman, and the restaurant. My first (and definitely not my last) glass of Turkish red wine and a Halloumi Salad, partly at my waiters suggestion. The salad had pieces of eggplant with a distinct smoky flavor, fresh olives, and thick slices of a slightly spicy, mozzarella-like Halloumi cheese lightly fried. My satisfaction brought big smiles from my waiter. With that face, I almost ordered more.

Off to Cappadocia… with that Hair Gel

The next morning Istanbul’s domestic airport the next morning was a pleasant surprise. It is new, clean, modern and efficient. I even found a kiosk selling something purported to be styling gel. With non-existent Turkish language skills, my pantomime elicited giggles from the adorable clerks. I’m not sure what they sold me, but for 7 lira I’ll take a chance. At this point my options for the week are looking like Medusa’s first cousin or James Dean’s slicked down sister circa 1956.

There is an airport now, unlike 17 years ago when the Cappadocia area was only accessible overland. Other than that, and more people, the striking landscape has not changed. Catacombs of cliff dwellings, entire cities created out of the limestone rocks, make the region the first condominium complex. Stretching over what is now eastern Anatolia, our stops include the large outdoor museum complex of Goreme, Cavusin, Pasapag, Zelve, and, of course, the rug factory. There is a reason why 70% of American tourists to Turkey come home with a new piece for the decorator. These guys have been at it for millennia. I’m still waiting for my delivery.

The only way to feed a large group of tourists is a buffet. The hot dishes aren’t very interesting, but Turkey shines in its starters: eggplant prepared a dozen different ways, fresh greenbeans, stuffed banana peppers, and grilled banana peppers (must be in season?). olives, tomatoes, white cheeses, fresh carrots. It is all tasty if not outstanding. Buffets aren’t meant to bring lasting memories, anyway. Those will come.

Back to Istanbul

It is a good thing the flight back to Istanbul was uneventful. At 5 am that’s about all I can handle. Of course the plane was late, of course the transfers were messed up. People on afternoon excursions through the convention hosts had no time to relax. Glad I had decided to just explore the hotel and surrounding neighborhood and get ready for a special evening.

The Marmara Hotel is right on busy Taksim Square and outside my window the square was always busy. My room was spacious, with touches to remind me that while this is a five-star hotel, it is a local hotel in Istanbul, not a cookie-cutter that could be anywhere. The spacious and high-ceilinged lobby has framed beautiful old Turkish traditional robes. The walls in my room have framed maps to remind me of the majestic Ottoman Empire. However, I’m grateful the plumbing is modern—and Western.

My first stroll down busy pedestrian Istikalal Caddesi shows how western Istanbul is, but with its own Eastern flair. There is a McDonald’s, a rather discreet and low-key storefront, but there are mostly local outdoor cafes, a few with backgammon enthusiasts, and endless opportunities for little glass cups of sweet Turkish tea. Plus, lucky me!—there is a friendly simit dealer right in front of the Marmara hotel. I’d been anticipating those round chewy, sesame-coated breads and they are as wonderful as I remembered. Inflation and prosperity have raised the price from around five cents to fifty cents (one Turkish lira), but they are worth it. Besides, I loved the smile on my simit dealer when he saw me approaching for my daily fix.

The Bosphorus

The history of Istanbul, its position through millennia as the crossroads of East and West, all relates to the Golden Horn and the waters surrounding it. Old and new, east and west, Islam and Orthodoxy, all come together over the Bosphosur straights. Capture and control of the Horn was the deciding factor in many battles both before and after the fall of the Byzantium to the Ottoman Empire. With Europe on one side and Asia on the other, a cruise up the Bosphorus is always a special experience, as I discovered years ago. This time I decided to do it at night, on a dinner cruise. It was an evening to remember, with delicious Turkish mezes, salad, a whole flavored local fish, dry Turkish red wine, music, and dancing, all while cruising past elegant mansions and hotels, and under the brightly lit bridges.

Historic Istanbul

Taksim is the heart of a modern, vibrant and upscale Istanbul, but it is across the Galata Bridge and into the Sultanhahmet where the magic and the history of the Orient are found. The unbelievable Topkapi Palace complex, the Blue Mosque, the Hagia Sophia, the Archaeology Museums. Here is the huge Grand Bazaar and equally famous Spice Market. The ancient Hippodrome anchors this intense cluster of history. Once a place of Roman chariot races, it is now full of crowds heading to the sights. And in April, it is also full of tulips. Turkey claims to be the original home of the tulip bulb, a little fact generally overlooked by a certain northern Europe country.

Dining… Again!

Trams and trolleys later, back across the Galata Bridge and up to home on Taksim, it is time for one last reminder that this is home of one of the world’s greatest cuisines. Mehmet Dervis (www.tachdatours.com) is determined that few other lucky conference attendees and myself will properly appreciate this fact. Our dinner is at the Hanedan Restaurant(www.hanedanrestaurant.com) overlooking the Bosphorus, with terrific mezes, hot starters, and grilled-to-perfection fish. This is my last night in Istanbul, so time to join my host with traditional raki. European style red wine can wait until I am back home with both feet in western culture. Right now I want to enjoy this delicious cultural mix and savor all things Turkey. Except the hair gel—that stays behind.