A Fun, Busy, and Great Day

As I was sitting at breakfast up on the rooftop terrace doing the blog, I saw a couple enter who looked familiar, but hey, this is Sicily. Whom do I know in Sicily besides Turi and Pietro, at least until our crew comes in starting tomorrow? Besides, I was concentrating on the blog.

“Excuse me, M’ame, you’re sitting in my chair!”

Startled, I turned around. Then I took a good look and saw that these were Yvette and Nick, people we had met in Durham, one town over from us in North Carolina, friends of good friends of ours. When we attended a film festival a month or so ago, we heard they wanted to go to Italy.

“You have to go to Sicily,” I said.

“Sicily?”

“Yes, Sicily. Taormina in particular.”

And Arnie and I gave them recommendations, including for our favorite restaurant. And aside from a very appreciative thank you for our follow-up e-mail suggestions, that was the last I heard.

So, to see that they were here was amazing and out of context.

They LOVE Taormina, much better than Capri where they started. In fact, Taormina and Sicily is already at the top of their “we are returning here” list.

After publishing yesterday’s blog, we took off again. We had an appointment to meet with Turi and Pietro. We instantly recognized the back of Turi’s head, on the cell as usual, cigarette in the other handand wearing his Beretta t-shirt, the same one, I think, that he wore for Tutti Turi Tour, referenced yesterday and linked to below under YouTube. He was sitting outside at a small table covered in brochures and books on Sicily.

He heard us approaching and turned around.

“You should have been here. I just returned. Come, come see the beautiful lemons I got. I could have used your help.”

Turi obviously remembered that we pitched in.

“I went down to the village, and look at the fish I got, and the gamberi (little shrimps).”

Here, his sou-chef, Ismail Levent, is cleaning the fish.

And Turi showed us all the food he had procured for the restaurant. Turi is a hands-on person. No one else selects his food. We were given shrimps to taste, little pomadoros (tomatoes), a little of this, a little of that, and in true Turi style, a glass of prosecco for each of us.

“Salud,” the three of us toasted.

Arnie was photographing the fresh food …

We looked again, and a rare and wonderful and awesome creature had appeared!

With a larger restaurant, Turi cannot spend the time at dinner with his guests the way he used to. Such is the down side of growth, but we are delighted to see him have such success, including a marvelous review in the New York Times.

And Turi has not forgotten his old friends, the ones who knew him when he was first starting his restaurant back in the mid-80s. Some things don’t change, and we get to spend a little time with him during the day.

We will return tonight for dinner, of course.

And tomorrow, we will meet Frank who apparently is one of THE wine people in Sicily. Turi and Pietro will introduce us at mid-day tomorrow, and we hopefully will visit his winery with a view to taking our group there. Time and tomorrow will tell.

* * * * * * * * * *

We caught up with e-mails, always challenging on the road, did some laundry, and went to the other end of this medieval town to switch our cars to the parcheggio (parking) close to our hotel. Also wanting to buy a week’s parking ticket, we asked how to do it at the front desk. The parking pay window seemed to always be closed.

“No problemo,” said our receptionist. “I will telephone for you.”

And, indeed, he did. “Yes, the signora is here and staying at our hotel,” and “Yes, she would like to pay for a week’s ticket,” and “Yes, la signora will come right down now.”

Mission accomplished, and as I remarked to Arnie, a week’s pass cost less than two days’ parking fees!

It was time for a gelato. No, not the touristy kind, the kind that is premixed and called “homemade.” No, we know the difference, and we returned to a place on the corner we visited our last time here. Pistachio and vanilla for Arnie, without cream, Hazelnut and chocolate with whipped cream for me. Yummm!

We had seen several wedding cars, so we followed to get some photographs.

Taormina is a place to get married. Whether from Sicilia, Italia (remember, Sicilians consider themselves apart from Italy), and even the US, the brides arrive in all their finery. The dresses are works of art.

Even the cars get gussied up for the occasion.

Arnie had pointed out a large balloon on the ballustrade of one of the churches. While he was caught up in photographing one of the local, traditional bands, I saw the wedding party emerging from the church. Before I realized what was happening, the bride and groom came over and popped the balloon, and from that, many heart-shaped balloons escaped and sailed into the sky.

Dinnertime was approaching. It was a short walk to “our” restaurant, and Turi and Pietro warmly greeted us, left cheeks first, kissing into the air with a somewhat distracted look on one’s face, then right cheeks. When in Taormina, one has to …

I poked my head into the kitchen, and everyone had seen the first blog and loved it. WOW, so many comments we have had on it along with various Facebook postings.

Ismail, the sou-chef, smiled broadly and said, “Now, we are Facebook friends,” and we did a high-five.

We were given a lovely table in the corner where we could survey the rest of the room and goings on.

Again, we ordered dinner, including those oh-so-fresh gamberi we had seen this morning, and again, we said, “Per favore, bring us some Etna wine … red.”

Remember, in our history with Turi and Osteria Nero d’Avola, we have never ordered a bottle of wine. It has appeared, and we have paid for it. Always reasonably priced, and always delicious, we have never been disappointed.

Then Yvette and Nick, the folks from North Carolina walked in. We suggested they put themselves in the hands of the restaurant, from the wine to the dinner. They had never had ceviche before and loved the gamberi so prepared. They had taken our suggestions for the day and had enjoyed a marvelous time. “We need you to come with us to Amalfi,” Yvette teased.

Pietro appeared.

“Come, come, I have someone you must meet.”

I love this. Marco de Grazia is a “farmer” with, we understand, quite a winery on the slopes of Mt. Etna. Pietro must have said something nice, because Marco said, “Will you join us in a glass of white wine?”

Never ones to turn down such an invitation, I said, “That would be lovely, and we’d be delighted to join you.”

This was a very large, unlabeled, green bottle. A young wine with great promise. A “tender wine,” as Marco put it.

He likes tender whites. And here he was with the daughter of a good friend of his and two of her chums who had attended a London wedding and decided on a lark to come to Sicily for a few days before heading back to the States. Tender wines for tender young ladies.

The wine had a complex and beautiful nose, and we toasted and tasted and enjoyed some light conversation.

We have been invited to join Marco at his winery on Wednesday, arrangements to be made on Sunday at “a civilized hour.”

“You’re a farmer,” I said, “So any time after 6:00?”

He laughed, as I suspected he would, and we targeted what was a civilized time in Palermo where he was going to be on Sunday.

Meanwhile, our dinner had arrived. Pistachio-encrusted Dorade for me, a seafood pasta for Arnie. We had already shared some ceviche garberi. We also shared a lemon salad made with those lemons we saw in the morning. Sweet, such as we could not believe. Not the tart, purse-your-lips kind we have at home. Made with green onions, some oil, and other things, it was delicious.

We were so embroiled in our various courses that we forgot to photograph them. Instead, we had to settle for some portraits of wine-filled glasses, olive oil bottles in the background. It should be noted that olive oil here, as in other parts of Italy, is like wine. There are vintages and descriptions that vie with the best of wines.

Who knows what tomorrow will bring? Do we care? Of course not. It is always an adventure. Two of our good friends — and workshop participants — arrive tomorrow, and we will toast him with a belated birthday glass raised on high!

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