Sitting in a tiny square in the heart of Palermo, sampling a whole baby calamari stuffed with fontina cheese, swimming in a delicate orange sauce... was my idea of heaven. I had come to Palermo to start researching a Food and Wine Tour for Australians and found myself constantly surprised by the variety of seafood dishes placed before me.
My adventure began, strolling the streets of the Vucciria market, watching fish vendors splitting the backs of sardines and flinging the butterflied remains into a bucket or ogling huge swordfish twisted into shapes by tying the snout and tail together or being mesmerized by a glittering mass of fish which I had no name for and even less idea of how to cook!
I was searching for a restaurant called Shanghai, named by a Sicilian sea captain after his far flung trips around the globe and by following the red arrows I found mnyself traipsing up some stairs and right into a kitchen. Yes, I was in the right place.Before me was a sea of red and white chequered tablecloths leading to an open balcony high above the market. From my table I could watch a street vendor stirring his pot of lungs and spleen and forcing huge amounts of into panini for hungry workers.
I had ordered grilled swordfish and thought it was a bit overcooked and dry...
I decided to keep on exploring and found myself in another tiny square at the beginning of the market with a restaurant I had just read about in Peter Robb's book
"Midnight in Sicily' called Sant Andrea where all the Palermitani supposedly go! I knocked on the door to book a table and was asked to return after 8pm for dinner. I dressed up for the occasion and found myself seated at a table with a bottle of chilled white wine called Glicine and discussing the extent and breadth of the menu with a gorgeous and enthusiastic young waiter.
This time I ordered the Sicilian antipasto and was blown away when he presented me with SEVEN small dishes!
Tiny baby fried calamaretti,
a polpette or fish ball made of swordfish,
a tiny baked eggplant in tomato sugo,
a dish of caponata ( my favourite Sicilian eggplant dish)
panelle or chickpea fritters normally sold on the streets of Palermo in a panino,
a deep fried piece of caciocavolla cheese,
and the last dish was simply green olives that had been prepared by the owners 'in casa'.
I instantly cried 'STOP' to the main course but my waiter insisted and I gave in. Swordfish involtini! Absolutely superb! Now I could appreciate the unique flavours of this huge fish... I wanted more...
Inviting myself to stay with an Australian couple I had met at Casa Vecchia cooking school run by the Marchesa Anna Tasca Lanza, meant taking them out to dinner as a thank you! We found a fabulous seafood restaurant with a glass tank full of lobster, piles of mussels, clams and sea urchins. I watched tables of Sicilian business men in suits, dunking their bread inside the shells to scoop out the much prized contents to carry to their impatient mouths. I was transfixed by the chef stabbing a lobster in the back with a knife and then throwing it into a pot screaming (or so it seemed to me) which led me to eliminate lobster from my choice of dishes for the evening. I chose to try sea urchins as a sauce for linguini and had a burst of saltiness and taste of the ocean with every mouthful. Interesting.
A few days later I had to visit Marsala for the Inaugural Sweet Wine Exhibition to talk to a few winemakers and found myself asking where I could try the famous seafood couscous of Trapani. There was only one restaurant in the town worth visiting so I escorted a bunch of Australians, English and Americans who I had rounded up, and who I had convinced to come to Marsala to dine with me. The restaurant was a little disappointing as there were no outside tables to eat at and we found ourselves back in the seventies, seated at white clothed tables with waiters in white coats and ordering the dish I had heard so much about. My first mouthful was memorable - a mixture of sweet spices, could it be cinnamon and nutmeg and something else? I loved the couscous but would have loved more bits of seafood to accompany it. It was good but I wanted more!
Drinking an aperitivo in the bar that night I enquired as to whether there really was a fabulouse seafood restaurant nearby and I was directed to Capo Lilybeo, four kilometres out of town and surrounded by Greco-Romano ruins. Roaming the outskirts of the most enormous antipasto table I had ever seen, fellow chef Renee and I were discussing the bounty before us and we were loudly interrupted by the owner who was delighted to meet us and even had relatives in New York! 'Doesn't every Sicilian?' I muttered quietly under my breath.
Yes it all looked good but I was looking for FISH!
The head waiter Niccolo and I discussed the possibility of grilling fish for the table. I had no idea what to order so the problem was resolved by the maestro himself wheeling out a big trolley covered in fish for me to look at! We decided on cooking an enormous fish in a salt crust ( which keeps the flesh moist) and then halving an orata and a triglia for each person to taste. We had to wait forty minutes but it was well worth it.
Some of the guests cracked and went for the antipasto, which was superb but I was determined to wait. Niccolo brought out the trolley with a flourish,and there was our fish beautifully cooked, resting on a bed of lettuce. It was cut up and served on plates at the table by Niccolo himself with such painstaking attention to detail that we were all in awe. A tangy yet fragrant lemon sorbet was placed in front of us to cleanse the palate and then our waiter returned to the kitchen and brought out the smaller fish. Yet again he carefully dissected the fish and transferred each portion to an allotted space. Fantastico!
By this stage we were groaning but there was more! Not only was our waiter the best maitre d' we had ever met, he was also a chef, making the sweet fruit sauces for the dessert trolley. No we couldn't possibly but somehow I found myself sampling the most wonderful cassata and bananas in orange syrup. The owner offered us a bottle of spumante and Niccolo offered us a digestivo. Coffees all round and we suddenly realised we were stranded. We had walked to the restaurant and left the car at our albergo.
Turning to Niccolo, I asked if there was a taxi nearby. He shook his head and I realised that we really were stuck. Feeling overloaded with food and with one guest a little shaky on her pegs - what to do! The owner turned to us and said 'Non c'e problema! My waiters will take you home!' I was invited to step into the car of Niccolo who continued to ply me with recipes all the way home,while my drunken mates thought he was making a move on me. Luckily I was the only one who spoke Italian so they will never know!
I had finally found the best fish, served to me in a dish, on a night that I will never forget
