Palermo is often described as chaotic, beautiful and a contradictory city — but to understand it properly, you have to peel it back, layer by layer because Sicily’s capital is not a city that reveals itself at first glance.
Like the island itself, Palermo rewards return visits, slow observation and curiosity. This process for discovering Palermo is a concept I explored many years ago in a travel competition article, Palermo and Sicily… Peeling back the onion.
Palermo’s strength lies in its depth. Each visit reveals a new layer—political, architectural, culinary or personal.
Palermo’s impressive Cathedral.
This post summarises some of Palermo’s cultural and historic attractions and aims to inspire travel to this impressive city.
Hand painted Sicilian horse cart.
I was particularly impressed by the grand historic buildings and luxurious Liberty-style villas and apartments, especially on the outskirts of Palermo. I was also struck by the contrast of accommodation often from street to street. However, do not be deceived by the exterior of some buildings. For instance, I once stayed in an apartment in the centre of Palermo that was unremarkable on the outside but had been tastefully renovated on the inside with modern conveniences, fresco-painted ceilings and antique furniture. The couple who owned it lived in a separate part of the large apartment.
Some residential housing.
Reading the post on Palermo and Sicily has prompted me to revisit the city. Reviewing my photographs has reinforced this desire.
Palermo – Teatro Massimo
Palermo as a capital, not a curiosity
For centuries, Palermo was not a provincial outpost but a Mediterranean capital. Under Roger II of Sicily, it became the seat of power of the Norman Kingdom of Sicily — governed from the Palazzo dei Normanni.
Palermo- Palazzo dei Normanni.
This was a court where Arab administrators, Greek scholars and Latin clergy worked side by side, leaving behind an architectural and cultural legacy unlike anywhere else in Europe
Where cultures overlap
The layered nature of Palermo is visible everywhere. Byzantine mosaics glow above Islamic wooden ceilings in the Cappella Palatina. Norman churches wear Arab domes. Baroque façades frame medieval streets.
Nothing here is erased. Everything is added.
This is why Palermo feels so different from cities that present history in neat, separated chapters.
Palermo – The Church of San Cataldo, an example of the wonderful Arabian-Norman architecture with its characteristic red domes is situated next to Santa Maria dell’Ammiraglio (also called La Martorana) is from the mid 12th century.
Markets as living archaeology
To understand Palermo at street level, you go to the markets.
In Ballarò Market and La Vucciria, the city’s Arab past survives not in monuments but in sound, rhythm and ritual.
Traders shout in Sicilian dialect. Fish is displayed under red awnings. Scents of fried street food and roasted peppers are in the air.
It is much more than nostalgia — it’s continuity.
Food as a record of history
Palermo’s food tells the same layered story.
The “traditional dishes” are edible evidence of Arab, Norman and Mediterranean exchanges. Sweet meets savoury. Fish replaces meat. Breadcrumbs stand in for cheese.
Antica Focacceria San Francesco is a historic eatery located in the heart of the city, opposite the church of St Francis of Assisi. It offers some of Sicily’s most iconic, authentic Palermo street food in a historic setting.
Even today, contemporary chefs reinterpret these dishes rather than abandon them, another example of Palermo adding layers rather than stripping them away. This trend is also evident among younger Sicilians who, like the rest of us, have greater access to media and modern and international cuisine.
Escaping the centre, without leaving the city
Peeling back another layer means leaving the historic quarters without leaving Palermo.
Liberty-style villas, gardens like Villa Giulia, or a bus ride to Mondello or Monreale reveal a softer, lighter side of the city — still unmistakably Sicilian, still deeply connected to food, leisure and the sea.
Close to Palermo is Mondello.
**For a deeper exploration of Palermo and Sicily through memory, history and return visits, you can read my longer composition:
Chickpeas — ceci, or cìciri in Sicilian — have been part of Sicily’s cucina povera’s cooking for centuries. Quiet, sustaining, and deeply rooted in the land, they belong to a cuisine of continuity rather than elaborate dishes.
Ancient Roots
Archaeological and botanical evidence places chickpeas among the earliest cultivated legumes of the eastern Mediterranean. When the Greeks settled Sicily from the 8th century BCE, they embedded ceci into an agricultural pattern based on cereals, legumes, olive oil, and wild greens — a pattern still visible in Sicily’s most subtle dishes.
During the Arab period (9th–11th centuries), chickpeas became even more central. Improved irrigation, crop rotation, and dry-farming techniques made legumes reliable in Sicily’s arid interior. Just as important was a shared culinary philosophy: slow cooking, few aromatics, and respect for the ingredient’s natural flavour and nourishment.
By the Middle Ages, ceci were firmly rooted in inland rural diets, where wheat and legumes formed the backbone of daily sustenance.
In later medieval history, ceci (chickpeas) took on an unexpectedly political role in Sicily. On Easter Monday, 30 March 1282, as crowds gathered in Palermo for Vespers, long-standing resentment against the rule of Charles I of Anjou erupted into open rebellion. According to tradition, the French were identified by their inability to pronounce the Sicilian word for chickpeas without a lisp. What began as a small incident became the spark for the Sicilian Vespers uprising, turning a humble legume into a linguistic marker of resistance and identity.
A Food of Continuity, Not A SHOWPIECE
Sicilian chickpea dishes are understated by design. They reflect cucina povera — not deprivation, but shaped by climate, season, and scarcity. Chickpeas often replaced meat, providing sustenance for households for several days.
On 13 December, the feast of Santa Lucia, chickpeas take on special meaning in Sicily, particularly in Palermo. According to tradition, during a medieval famine a ship carrying grain and chickpeas arrived in the port after prayers to the saint. Too hungry to wait for flour to be milled, people boiled the grains and legumes and ate them whole.
In gratitude, Palermitans vowed to avoid flour on Santa Lucia’s day. Chickpeas — eaten simply or included in cuccìa (dish traditionally made with boiled wheat berries, often mixed with chickpeas). It remain a tradition, a symbol of survival, humility, and collective memory rather than celebration.
Santa Christina Cathedral Palermo.
Growing and Harvesting
In Sicily, chickpeas are usually sown in late winter or spring and harvested in summer. The plants are left until the pods dry on the stalk, ensuring a dependable winter staple.
Before drying, some chickpeas were eaten fresh — a fleeting seasonal pleasure.
A Note on Fresh (Green) Chickpeas — Ceci Freschi
Before drying, chickpeas were sometimes eaten fresh. Harvested in late spring or early summer, they are pale green, faintly sweet, and closer to fresh peas in texture. Their shelf life is short — less than a week — and they are best cooked simply, as for ceci in umido (recipe below), or eaten straight from the pod while harvesting in the fields.
A fresh chickpea( ceci) plant with pods containing green chickpeas.
Their brief season reflects an agricultural rhythm that shaped Sicilian cooking for centuries: some foods were enjoyed only when the land allowed it.
How Chickpeas Are Traditionally Eaten in Sicily
1. Ceci con Erbe Spontanee (Chickpeas with Wild Greens)
A classic countryside pairing. Chickpeas cook gently while seasonal greens are added toward the end: Wild fennel, Wild Chicory, Dandelion, Borage.
Wild fennel sold in bunches.
Finished simply with olive oil — sometimes a squeeze of lemon.
2. Minestra di Ceci (Chickpea Soup)
Common in mountainous areas, monasteries, and farming households. These soups were cooked in large quantities and eaten over several days — practical, sustaining, and deeply comforting. Chickpeas simmer in their broth and are often poured over bread placed directly in the bowl. Sometimes broken spaghetti is added. Always finished with olive oil and rather than chilli, black ground black pepper.
3. Panelle
Palermo’s iconic street food: chickpea flour cooked with water and salt, spread into thin sheets, cut into small rectangles or squares, and fried until crisp. Simple, addictive, and unmistakably Sicilian.
4. Ceci in Umido (Stewed Chickpeas)
A dish shaped by restraint. Tomato — a later arrival — is used sparingly or omitted altogether inland. Onion softens slowly in olive oil, garlic perfumes briefly, and chickpeas do most of the work.
RECIPES
I research traditional Sicilian sources, and the most reliable versions of recipes I have found in my books is from Pino Correnti’s Il Libro d’Oro della Cucina e dei Vini di Sicilia. As with many Italian recipes, they are simple and written without measurements.
These dishes belong to an older culinary world, predating tomatoes. They are the kind of sustaining soups that fed farmers, monks, and households through winter.
I include two traditional recipes detailed, more modern Sicilian recipes for chickpeas that are more suited to contemporary cooks:
* Ceci in Umido (Sicilian Stewed Chickpeas)
* Minestra di Ceci (Sicilian Chickpea Soup)
Ciciri ca Pasta a Catanisa Chickpeas with Pasta, Catania Style
An eastern Sicilian variation, even simpler, is pasta with chickpeas alla catanese. The chickpeas are cooked together with onion and, in the same cooking water, broken spaghetti is added and boiled. The dish is dressed simply with raw olive oil and freshly ground black pepper or chilli.
Ciciri ca Pasta Saccense Chickpeas with Pasta from Sciacca
The version from the area between Sciacca and Agrigento is simpler. It uses cooked chickpeas mixed with about half a kilo of wild fennel, two cloves of garlic, and tagghiarini made fresh — small lasagne-style strips of dough rolled out by hand on the board just before cooking.
Facade of a building in Sciacca.
*Ceci in Umido (Sicilian Stewed Chickpeas)
A humble but deeply satisfying dish, served as a light main or contorno.
Ingredients (serves 4)
300 g dried chickpeas
1 small onion, finely chopped
1–2 cloves garlic, lightly crushed
3–4 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil (plus more to finish)
2 tbsp tomato passata or 1 tbsp tomato paste diluted with water
1 bay leaf or a small sprig of oregano
Salt and black pepper
Water or light vegetable broth or stock
Method
Soak chickpeas overnight. Drain and rinse.
Cover the chickpeas in fresh water and simmer until tender (40–50minutes). Reserve liquid.
Cook onion slowly in olive oil until soft, never coloured.
Add garlic briefly, then tomato and aromatics. Cook gently.
Add chickpeas with enough liquid to cover. Simmer until the sauce thickens naturally.
Finish with black pepper and a drizzle of extra virgin, fragrant olive oil.
Regional notes
In central Sicily (Enna, Caltanissetta), tomato is often omitted altogether.
It is eaten with bread — bread here is the accompaniment.
This is a dish that reflects Arab influence not through spice, but through method: slow cooking, minimal intervention, and respect for the legume itself.
*Minestra di Ceci (Sicilian Chickpea Soup)
Cucina povera at its purest — chickpeas, aromatics, olive oil, and patience.
Ingredients (serves 4)
300 g dried chickpeas
1 small onion, finely chopped
1 carrot, finely diced
1 celery stalk, finely diced
2 cloves garlic
3–4 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil (plus more to finish)
1 bay leaf or wild fennel stems
Salt and black pepper
Optional: potato cubes or greens. In Melbourne, I am unable to purchase wild greens but can buy seasonal vegetables such as chicory, beets/chard and spinach.
Method
Soak chickpeas overnight. Drain and rinse.
Cover the chickpeas in fresh water and simmer until tender (40–50minutes).
Reserve liquid.
Gently cook onion, carrot, and celery in olive oil until soft. Add garlic briefly, then chickpeas and liquid.
Simmer uncovered 15-20 mins, crushing a few chickpeas to thicken.
Add potatoes or greens if using.
Rest, season, and finish with raw olive oil.
Present the soup with: With crusty bread or garlic-rubbed toast or topped with wild fennel fronds
The soup is better the next day — flavours deepen with time.
Chickpeas (ceci),I almost always have jars in my freezer.
La Pasta con le Sarde è uno dei piatti più iconici della Sicilia: una ricetta semplice ma profondamente espressiva, che unisce le sarde al finocchio e a ingredienti che raccontano la storia lunga e stratificata dell’isola.
****Sul mio blog ci sono numerose versioni della Pasta con le Sarde, scritte nel corso di molti anni, accompagnate da tante fotografie e varianti. Tuttavia, ho creato questa versione più semplice per chi preferisce un metodo di preparazione più rapido, (forse preferito in Australia e altri in diverse parti nel mondo), soprattutto nel periodo natalizio, spesso molto intenso. Avevo preparato questa ricetta anche per una sessione radiofonica su SBS Italian, ma non c’è stato tempo per parlarne (come sempre, preparo troppo!).
Le sarde sono abbondanti nei mari siciliani, il finocchietto selvatico cresce spontaneamente quando è di stagione, e sapori come pinoli, uvetta e zafferano parlano chiaramente dell’influenza araba che ha segnato profondamente la cucina siciliana. Il tocco finale, la muddica atturrata – pangrattato tostato – sostituisce il formaggio ed è inconfondibilmente siciliano.
Molto probabilmente prenderò in considerazione la Pasta con le Sarde anche per il periodo delle feste natalizie.
Un piatto radicato nella tradizione siciliana
Questo è un piatto nato dalla necessità e dall’ingegno. In Sicilia la pasta si consuma quasi ogni giorno, e la pasta con le sarde è da sempre un modo per trasformare ingredienti umili e facilmente reperibili in qualcosa di memorabile.
Quando il finocchietto selvatico non è disponibile, quello coltivato funziona molto bene. Io utilizzo il bulbo, le barbe e talvolta una piccola quantità di semi di finocchio per richiamare l’aroma della pianta selvatica. Il finocchietto selvatico è stagionale e in Sicilia viene venduto a mazzi nei mercati. I siciliani rispettano la
Pasta con le Sarde,
stagionalità del finocchietto e tradizionalmente cucinano la Pasta con le Sarde solo nel periodo giusto.
Il bucatino è il formato di pasta che preferisco, ma anche gli spaghetti sono perfettamente adatti.
Pasta con Sarde
Bucatini con le Sarde
INGREDIENTI
500 g di bucatini (formato tradizionale preferito)
700 g di sarde fresche, pulite e sfilettate
200 g di finocchietto selvatico (oppure 2 grossi finocchi con le barbe + 1 cucchiaino di semi di finocchio)
Circa ¾ di tazza di olio extravergine d’oliva
2 cipolle, affettate finemente
4 filetti di acciuga
1 tazza di pinoli
1 tazza di mandorle tostate, grossolanamente tritate (facoltative)
¾ di tazza di uvetta
½–1 cucchiaino di zafferano
Sale e pepe nero
Muddica atturrata:
4–5 cucchiai di pangrattato, tostato in padella con poco olio extravergine.
Mi piace aggiungere un pizzico di zucchero e cannella durante la tostatura, e un po’ di scorza di limone finemente grattugiata.
METODO (VERSIONE SEMPLICE)
CUOCERE IL FINOCCHIO
Lessare il finocchietto selvatico in acqua salata per 10–15 minuti.
Conservare l’acqua di cottura, profumata e verde, per cuocere la pasta.
Scolare, strizzare bene e tritare finemente.
Se si usa il finocchio coltivato:
Tagliare il bulbo in quarti e lessarlo insieme ai semi di finocchio. Tenere da parte le barbe per dopo. Se presenti, bollire anche i gambi per aromatizzare l’acqua. Eliminare gambi e semi, scolare, tritare il finocchio e conservare l’acqua per la pasta.
PREPARARE IL CONDIMENTO
In una padella capiente, cuocere dolcemente le cipolle nell’olio fino a renderle morbide e dorate.
Aggiungere i filetti di acciuga e mescolare finché si sciolgono, quindi unire pinoli, uvetta e mandorle (se utilizzate).
Aggiungere circa due terzi delle sarde, tritate grossolanamente, salare e pepare, e incorporare alcune barbe di finocchio (o un po’ del finocchio tritato).
Cuocere dolcemente per 5–10 minuti.
Unire il finocchio cotto e lo zafferano sciolto in poca acqua tiepida.
CUOCERE LA PASTA
Cuocere i bucatini nell’acqua di cottura del finocchio fino a quando sono al dente.
Scolare bene.
CUOCERE LE SARDE RIMANENTI
In una padella a parte, friggere leggermente i filetti di sarda rimasti.
Tenere da parte per la fase finale.
ASSEMBLARE IL PIATTO
Unire la pasta al condimento di sarde e mescolare delicatamente.
Lasciare riposare per 5–10 minuti affinché i sapori si amalgamino.
Incorporare con delicatezza i filetti di sarda interi.
Servire con abbondante muddica atturrata.
In questa versione della Pasta con le Sarde non ho sbollentato le mandorle. Non sempre elimino la pellicina della frutta secca né la tosto.
VERSIONE AL FORNO (FACOLTATIVA)
Ungere una pirofila e spolverarla con pangrattato tostato.
Disporre a strati la pasta e il condimento, inserendo qualche filetto di sarda intero tra uno strato e l’altro.
Completare con pangrattato, un filo d’olio e, a piacere, un pizzico di zucchero e cannella.
Cuocere in forno a 200°C per circa 10 minuti, fino a ottenere una leggera crosticina.
Pesce Crudo alla Siciliana is one of the purest expressions of Sicilian seafood and it is: thinly sliced fish, lightly marinated in citrus, and finished with the fresh, aromatic flavours of the island.
In Sicily, raw fish is treated with great respect. A good dish of pesce crudo always begins with fish of extraordinary quality — impeccably fresh, carefully cleaned, and sliced as finely as a carpaccio. The preparation is simple, but the result is vibrant, elegant, and deeply connected to place.
I will definitely Make a Pesce Crudo over the upcoming Festive season.
What Is Pesce Crudo alla Siciliana?
Today, pesce crudo can be prepared with many types of fish and seafood. Delicate white fish fillets, sea urchins, calamari, octopus, prawns (especially red prawns), and scampi are all common. Sardines and anchovies, usually filleted rather than served whole, are also much loved.
What makes the dish unmistakably Sicilian is the choice of garnishes. These echo the island’s landscape and aromas: citrus juice and zest (especially blood orange), capers, olives, salted anchovies, fresh herbs such as mint, oregano, basil, or wild fennel, and often a touch of chilli. Almonds or pistachios add texture, while paper-thin slices of fruit or vegetables — strawberry, peach, vanilla persimmon, cucumber, fennel — Be inventive, bring colour and freshness to the plate.
Choosing the Right Fish in Melbourne
When preparing pesce crudo outside Sicily, freshness and sustainability are essential.
Below is some fish that is better than others when it comes to respect sustainability. Tips for Choosing Sustainable Seafood in Australia
Check the species and fishery region — sustainability can differ significantly by area and stock. GoodFish
Look for independent certification labels like the Marine Stewardship Council (MSC) for wild seafood. Australia & New Zealand
Ask how the fish was caught — line and pole methods generally have lower bycatch and habitat impact than longlines or trawls.
Use the GoodFish guide/app for real-time traffic-light ratings of local species
If using tuna, choose yellowfin tuna, ideally line-caught. some fish that is better than others – options for raw preparations in Australia include:
Snapper
Flathead tails
Barramundi
Farmed kingfish from South Australia
Salmon (sourced from New Zealand)
Always buy from a trusted fishmonger and explain that the fish will be eaten raw.
Fish ready slice thinly
Fish ready slice thinly
Fish ready slice thinly
Thinly Sliced Fish Marinated in Lemon with Sicilian Flavours
Ingredients (serves 2–4)
250–300 g very fresh fish fillets, sliced paper-thin
Juice of 2 lemons
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
Extra virgin olive oil
A handful of capers, rinsed
Green or black olives, chopped
Finely grated zest of blood orange or lemon
Fresh herbs: mint, oregano, basil, or wild fennel
Fresh chilli, finely sliced (optional)
Roughly chopped almonds or pistachios
Very thin slices of fruit or vegetables (fennel, cucumber, strawberry, or prickly pear)
Method
Prepare the fish
Arrange the fish slices in a single layer on a serving plate. Lightly season with salt.
Marinate with lemon
Pour over enough lemon juice to just cover the fish. Cover and refrigerate for 10–15 minutes — just long enough for the citrus to lightly “cook” the surface.
Drain and season
Remove and discard the marinade. Dress the fish with extra virgin olive oil, black pepper, and citrus zest.
Add Sicilian flavours
Scatter over the capers, olives, chopped herbs, chilli (if using), and almonds or pistachios.
Finish with fruit or vegetables
Decorate with wafer-thin slices of fennel, cucumber, strawberry, or prickly pear for a fresh, colourful touch.
Serve immediately
This dish should remain bright, light, and impeccably fresh.
Pesce crudo as in a Trattoria in Mondello
GREAT BRITISH CHEFS GREAT ITALIAN CHEFS WEBSITE
** Some time ago I was asked to write three articles about Sicily for Great British Chefs/ Great Italian Chefs Website, one was about PESCE CRUDO
When Massimiliano Gugole from SBS Italian Radio invited me to share a recipe on the morning show, I didn’t have to think twice—I chose stuffed artichokes. They’re my favourite way to prepare this elegant and flavoursome vegetable, and with the first spring artichokes just arriving at the Queen Victoria Market, the timing couldn’t have been better.
Over the years I’ve experimented with all sorts of fillings – minced meat (like mixture for polpette), ground almonds with ricotta, pan-fried breadcrumbs with egg, lemon zest and pine nuts, anchovies with black olives, but I always come back to my favourite mix: breadcrumbs, parsley, a touch of garlic, grated parmesan (if I am trying to emulate Northern Italy) or pecorino (as in Southern Italy), and good olive oil. The mixture is gently tucked into the centres before the artichokes are simmered in stock, white wine, and bay leaves.
I usually serve them as a main, with vegetables cooked in the same pot. Because the artichokes need to stand upright (their stems trimmed at the base), I often nestle potatoes around them – they hold everything in place and soak up some of that exquisite, unique flavour.
potatoes used to hold artichokes upright
Whole potatoes can be added simultaneously with the artichokes, and other spring vegetables such as peas and broad beans can be added approximately 15 minutes before the artichokes are cooked. Asparagus also makes a welcome addition and will need less cooking. Additionally, I enjoy poaching eggs in the stock, adding protein for a better balanced meal.
I also ensure that good bread is placed at the table to soak up any remaining rich cooking juices. A spoon doesn’t go astray with friends either, although this does not follow Italian etiquette.
In this post I will translate the Italian podcast but also include photos of the preparation of the seven artichokes I cooked for friends in my largest fish kettle a couple of weeks ago.
The Translated Podcast
“All Italians know how to cook artichokes,” says Marisa Raniolo Wilkins. But if you need some inspiration, here is a traditional, tasty, seasonal recipe, along with a few valuable tips for an excellent result.
“My favourite way to cook artichokes is the simple method my mother always used,” says Marisa Raniolo Wilkins, author of the blog All Things Sicilian And More.
“My maternal grandmother Maria (originally from Catania but who lived in Trieste for several years) also cooked them this way,” Marisa told SBS Italian, recalling how her grandmother used the same mixture of breadcrumbs, parsley, garlic, grated cheese, and a drizzle of olive oil to stuff her sardines, tomatoes, and artichokes.
“I like to serve artichokes as a main dish; they’re too fiddly to eat as a side,” she says. Listen to the recipe from the author of All Things Sicilian And More.
Ingredients (serves 6) • 6 artichokes • 100 g (1 cup) dry fresh breadcrumbs (made from good-quality bread, 1–2 days old, crust removed, finely chopped) • 2 tablespoons chopped parsley • 2 tablespoons grated cheese (Parmesan is fine, but in Sicily, pecorino is more common) • A drizzle of extra virgin olive oil • 4 cups stock (vegetable or chicken, stock cube is fine) • 1 cup white wine • About 1 cup extra virgin olive oil • A few bay leaves
Marisa Raniolo recommends placing the artichokes in acidulated water as you prepare them — add the juice of a lemon to a bowl of water.
Preparation Choose and clean the artichokes carefully. Cut off the stems so the base is flat — they need to stand upright in the pot, which should be the right size so the artichokes fit snugly and stay upright.
Peel the tough skin from the stems, cut about 1 cm from the tips of the artichokes, and remove the tougher outer leaves. Check for the choke in the centre, which is more common in mature artichokes.Choke is fieno/barba in Italian and hay and beard in English; one has to love the Italian language!
Drain the artichokes from the acidulated water. With your fingers, gently open the leaves, especially in the centre. Sprinkle a little salt, pepper, and a drizzle of olive oil between the leaves.
Mix the stuffing ingredients together and fill each artichoke.
“In Australia, artichokes are still considered exotic and perhaps difficult to prepare. But once you know how to clean them, they’re simple to cook,” says Marisa.
Place the artichokes upright in a pot. Put the stems between the artichokes and drizzle with more extra virgin olive oil.
I often like to press pine nuts into the stuffing.
Add the stock or water to about 2 cm below the top of the artichokes. Pour in the wine, add the bay leaves, and the rest of the oil.
Cover with a lid and cook slowly for about an hour.
You can also add peas, broad beans, and/or potatoes.
“I often add potatoes to help keep the artichokes standing, and they’re very good,” Marisa explains. “Potatoes can be added straight away, while peas and broad beans should go in about 15 minutes before the artichokes are done.”
Below, market in Sicily. Artichokes are always sold with long stems because stems are delicious.
This is the process for preparing the artichokes explained with photos.
The Cleaning:
the stalks need to be strippednotice how I remove the tough leaves leaving the edible part on the artichokethe stems have been trimmed and the artichokes are kept in the acidulated waterthe tops have been trimmed and the leaves need to be eased apart to make room for the stuffing in the centre
The Stuffing
The peeling/stripping of the stalks
Stuffing the artichokes
the artichokes are placed in the stock and wineready for cookingartichokes sitting in a fish kettle
I was recently invited to join the morning program on SBS Italian Radio Live, where I had the pleasure of discussing winter vegetables with hosts Massimiliano Gugole, who is based in Sydney and Andrea Pagani is based in Melbourne.
Living close to Queen Victoria Market, I’m fortunate to have a daily view of the bustling sheds and open-air car park from my balcony. The market is where I shop and where I’ve sourced fresh produce for as long as I have lived in Melbourne. Before that I lived in Adelaide and I also lived close to the Adelaide Central Market.
Quality ingredients, especially seasonal ones, are central to my cooking.
During the live broadcast, I noted that alongside typical winter produce, stalls are still offering late-season peppers, eggplants, and zucchini, mostly grown in warmer areas like Mildura. But what I was most excited about was the fennel – crisp, aromatic, and at its peak right now. Also in abundance are mushrooms, radicchio, witlof, chicory, and of course, the winter brassicas.
I was particularly pleased to find and cook the season’s first globe artichokes.
Artichokes
Chef Piera Pagnoni confirmed the richness of the winter harvest – cabbages, cauliflowers, fennel, broccoli – though she pointed out that these aren’t always children’s favourites. Her advice? “There’s always a secret weapon: cover it with béchamel, add a little Parmesan, put it in the oven… and everyone loves it.” Spoken like a true cook from Bologna, where pasta and comfort go hand in hand.
Later in the program, Chef Gianmarco Pardini from Sydney joined the conversation and reminded us that this is also a great season for fish: “The water is colder, so the fish eats more and becomes tastier.”
During the program, I remembered and shared a recipe that holds special meaning for me – a cauliflower dish my Sicilian grandmother from Catania used to prepare. It’s simple, seasonal, and a wonderful way to celebrate the best of winter produce.
One of the most flavourful and dramatic ways to cook cauliflower comes from my grandmother Maria, who was born in Catania. This dish is called Cavolfiore Affogato in Italian, and Vruòcculi Affucati in Sicilian, meaning literally “smothered/ suffocated cauliflower”. It refers to the way the cauliflower is slowly simmered in red wine and olive oil, gently compressed so that it softens into a layered like tortino (pie/cake/mould).
The wine not only deepens the flavour but also gives the cauliflower a lovely rose-coloured tinge that is especially noticeable if you use the classic white variety of cauliflower. The yellow cauliflower has an even more striking result.
Cauliflowers are now available in many colours but while purple or green versions are very attractive raw, they tend to lose their colour when cooked.
To cook
The method is quite unique. The small pieces of cauliflower are layered in a pot with anchovies, onion, pecorino, olive oil, and sometimes black olives. It should be 3-4 layers. It is then pressed under a weight as it cooks slowly on the stovetop.
To compress it, cover the layers with a piece of baking paper cut to shape, place a heat-safe plate on top, and add a weight. When you select the plate is important to that the plate is smaller than the size of the saucepan so as to leave a space around the rim to allow evaporation of the contents.
As a weight, I usually use my stone mortar, but a smaller saucepan partially filled with water works just as well. The aim is to gently press the layers down while the wine and oil simmer slowly.
As it cooks, the liquid gradually evaporates. What remains is a flavoured, cohesive “cake”(like a tortino) that can be sliced.
I use a pan with a heavy base to distribute the heat gently and I often use a piece of baking paper on the base to avoid sticking or use a non-stick saucepan. If needed, a spoonful of water can be added during cooking, but with low heat and a well-made pot, it’s rarely necessary.
Vruòcculi Affucati is perfect as a side dish, especially next to something bold in flavour. It’s traditionally served at room temperature, and lef tovers are even better the next day.
Ingredients
1kg cauliflower or broccoli (white or yellow preferred)
1 large onion, thinly sliced
50–100g pecorino, thinly sliced
4–5 anchovy fillets (or more if you like)
1 glass of red wine
¾ cup extra virgin olive oil
Freshly ground black pepper
Salt, if needed
10 black olives, pitted (optional)
Method
Lightly oil the base of a deep saucepan. Line it with baking paper if you like.
Add a layer of cauliflower, then top with onion, anchovies, pecorino, pepper, and olives (if using). Repeat for two more layers, drizzling with olive oil as you go. Make sure the top layer is just cauliflower.
Press the layers gently with your hands. Pour the red wine over the top and finish with a final drizzle of oil.
Cover with baking paper or foil cut to size, then weigh it down with a plate and something heavy.
Cook on the lowest heat for 30–40 minutes. You’ll hear it begin to sizzle when the liquid has evaporated.
Allow it to rest before turning.
And of course I had written this recipe on my blog years ago and it has different photos to this post:
Inverno, cosa comprano e cosa mangiano italiani e italiane d’Australia?
When planning a trip to Sicily, I always recommend visiting the island’s ancient open-air markets. The merchandise, the sellers who enthusiastically promote their produce in vibrant Sicilian, and the shoppers create a captivating experience.
I have seen Guttoso’s painting of the Vucciria Market hanging in the Palazzo Chiaramonte Steri, but it is also on the cover of one of my books: Il Libro D’Oro Della Cucina e Dei Vini Di Sicilia, by Pino Correnti.
Wandering through the open air markets feels like stepping into a living museum of food culture. But when you reach the meat section, don’t be surprised to see all parts of the animal on display—intestines, organs, heads, and feet.
Everything is used to the fullest and there is always something to discuss with the sellers.
While reading about offal, I came across the term il quinto quarto—the “fifth quarter.” It comes from Roman butchering traditions, where an animal is divided into four quarters: two forequarters and two hindquarters. What remains—the head, organs, feet, blood, skin, and scraps—is known as the fifth quarter. In English, we call it “offal,” though that word doesn’t quite carry the same cultural meaning.
This is the tripe vendor in Palermo who was delighted to share information about the various types of tripe he offered: washed and unwashed tripe. He also explained how the type of pasture the animal grazed influences the tripe’s flavour, with the most favoured variety being the one that originated from the most preferred pasture.
Historically, prime cuts were sold to the wealthy, while the so-called undesirable parts were left to poorer families. For those who raised and slaughtered their own animals, selling the meat was a necessity—they cooked with what was left. But this kind of cooking, known as cucina povera, led to a rich tradition of creative and nourishing dishes. Across Italy, these parts became integral to local Italian cuisine, cooked in traditional ways. Examples include: fegato di vitello (calf’s liver), fegatini di pollo (chicken livers), trippa (tripe), piedini (trotters), coda alla vaccinara (oxtail stew from Rome), animelle (sweetbreads), lampredotto (cow’s fourth stomach, loved in Florence), and milza (spleen), especially famous in Palermo.
Nowhere is this tradition is more alive than in Sicily, where nothing from the animal is wasted. Every bite carries a story, a memory, and a deep respect for what the land and sea provide. In the markets—especially around Palermo’s Ballarò and Vucciria—you see how Sicilian cuisine reflects centuries of conquest, hardship, and resilience. But above all, it reflects respect. For ingredients, for animals, and for tradition.
In Palermo, one of the most iconic Sicilian street foods is pani ca meusa—veal spleen and lung simmered in lard, served in a sesame roll.
Another vendor might be ladling out hot frittola, a traditional Sicilian street food made from leftover bits of meat such as cartilage and other offal. These are boiled, pressed, often fried in lard, and then served hot in paper cones.
You’ll also find stigghiola—lamb intestines wrapped around spring onions, grilled and seasoned with olive oil, lemon, and parsley.
In rural areas, especially around Easter, families prepare minestra di agnello, a rich soup made with lamb heart, liver, and lungs, simmered with wild herbs and foraged greens. This is similar to the Greek Easter soup magiritsa, and both reflect the themes of rebirth, sacrifice, and renewal tied to the Easter tradition.
Another favourite is budelline—lamb intestines sometimes stuffed with breadcrumbs, mint, and garlic, or simply grilled. Crisp on the outside, juicy inside.
Then there’s trippa alla siciliana, tender strips of cow stomach stewed in tomato sauce with mint and a bit of cheese.
In the southeast, around Catania and Ragusa, you might come across zuzzu, (and gelatina) a cold meat jelly. I presented the recipe for Zuzzu as a podcast on SBS.
Below is a photo of the hot stock rich with collagen being poured over the meat.
But the finished product can look like this:
Zuzzu is made from the pig’s head, ears, and skin—similar to coppa di testa.
From land to sea, the same Sicilian resourceful approach applies.
On the Egadi Islands, especially in Favignana, every part of the tuna is used—a tradition dating back to the Arab influence and the ritual mattanza, or tuna harvest.
The most famous and better known delicacy of tuna is bottarga—salt-cured tuna roe, shaved over pasta or served in thin slices with lemon.
But there’s more from the tuna. These can be found in Trapani and Milazzo:
Mascione – The tuna’s cheek, tender and rich, grilled or preserved in oil.
Ficazza – A cured tuna salami made from trimmings, bold and spicy.
Curubedda – A coarser version of ficazza, cured and sliced.
Tarantello – A prized cut between the belly and back, usually preserved.
Busunagghia – Gelatin-rich meat from near the spine, slow-cooked or cured.
Sicilian cuisine embodies the historical and cultural heritage of the island. Whether sourced from the land or the sea, every component of an animal plays a vital role, contributing to its unique flavour profile that deserves recognition.
I’ve long been familiar with caciocavallo cheese and ’nduja, but I always enjoy discovering new things about food and produce.
Being Italian I enjoy the endless journey through traditions, family stories, unique regions and small producers who put their heart into every ingredient. Researching Italian food is discovering a world inside every dish.
Recently, I visited a small restaurant that focuses on Southern Italian cuisine and had two dishes that sparked my curiosity.
The first was a caciocavallo that came from Puglia and not Sicily, as I was expecting. (Below is a photo of the classic shape of caciocavallo)
The second was ’nduja, Calabria’s famously spicy, spreadable salume (small good). It was served warm in a small terracotta warmer, ready for dipping with some house-made warm focaccia. I’d never seen it served this way. At home, I tend to slice it like salame and serve it with some quality bread, in a much more rustic manner.
I find it fascinating how produce reflects the unique identity of each region. It’s all thanks to the geography, animal husbandry, and traditional techniques that shape what we grow and eat. A cheese is the flavour of the land, the animals that graze there, and the those that made it. The caciocavallo, from Southern Italy, has maintained its authenticity despite being mass-produced. Its Protected Designation of Origin (PDO) classification safeguards its unique characteristics.
The ‘nduja, which was traditionally made by hand after a pig was slaughtered, is now mass-produced, but traditional recipes remain largely unchanged.
Naturally, I had questions to ask at the restaurant. Fortunately, a passionate, food-loving waiter from Messina was happy to share his knowledge. What I love most about Italians is how even the simplest ingredients and recipes carry the weight of local pride. Thanks to his enthusiasm, I left with a deeper appreciation for these two iconic Southern Italian specialties and a strong urge to verify everything he told me.
Sometimes all it takes is a chatty, informative waiter to turn a good meal into an even better culinary experience. The list of Italian wines was also very good and again this waiter was happy to share his knowledge.
Caciocavallo
Caciocavallo is produced across several Southern Italian regions: Sicily, Basilicata, Calabria, Campania, Molise, and Puglia. However, I’ve always associated this cheese with Sicily, especially as it is made in Ragusa.
My paternal family roots are in Ragusa (photo above), so over the years I have visited Sicily many times. I developed a strong sense of pride around Caciocavallo Ragusano . This is made from the milk of Modica cows (Modica is a city close to Ragusa) that graze the wild pastures of the Iblei plateau. The cheese is rich and earthy, due to the wild herbs in the cows’ diet. My relatives led me to believe that this was the best caciocavallo, with all others being somewhat inferior. And I believed them.
I have eaten cheese produced by families in the region of Ragusa and, like my relatives, I appreciate caciocavallo very much. The caciocavallo cheeses The cheeses are the classic gourd or teardrop shape and are hung in pairs over a wooden beam (“cacio a cavallo” means “cheese on horseback”). It is appreciated as an aged cheese, but also when relatively fresh.
At the restaurant, I was offered Caciocavallo Podolico from Puglia. This local cheese is made from the milk of Podolica cows, a breed raised in southern Italy. Unlike cheese from Ragusa, Caciocavallo Podolico is aged for up to 36 months in natural caves. The cows feed on wild, aromatic herbs in a different terroir, giving the cheese a bold, intense flavour.
The restaurant served it pan-fried, warm, with a drizzle of honey and chilli flakes. The honey reminded me of how I’ve eaten pecorino in Liguria, not warmed.
Eating the caciocavallo from Puglia broadened my horizons beyond the exclusive patriotism for Ragusa-produced caciocavallo.
’Nduja
’Nduja is a soft, fermented, pork Calabrian salume made with about 30% chili peppers. Cured in natural casings, it remains spreadable because of the high fat content and fermentation.
Over the years, I have incorporated ‘nduja into various dishes and sauces, and have also enjoyed it sliced and served with bread, but I had never encountered it served warm. At the restaurant, it was presented in a unique warmer equipped with a small flame, ensuring a molten state and an opportunity to be scooped up with bread. This presentation is known as ‘scalda ‘nduja‘.
Here are a couple of ideas for enjoying these ingredients at home:
Pan-fried Caciocavallo: pan fry in very little oil thick slices until golden, then drizzle with some quality honey and a sprinkle of chilli flakes. Look for DOP or regional varieties at specialty Italian shops.
Warm ’Nduja: Gently heat a slice in a ramekin in the microwave or small pan and serve with warm bread for dipping.. The restaurant served it with focaccia.
I’ve written other posts, especially about ‘nduja that may stimulate more adventures in the kitchen:
Easter in Sicily is more than a religious celebration, it’s a mix of faith, spring, history and cassata.
It is a time when the sacred rituals and the everyday come together. It reminds people of the past, celebrates the present, and looks forward to the future with hope.
EASTER HOLY WEEK CELEBRATIONS IN SICILY
Religion, especially Catholicism, is at the heart of life in Sicily, and this is most visible during Holy Week and the Easter Celebrations. From Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday, towns and cities across the island are filled with devotion and tradition.
Sicilian religious cart used for Religious processions.
On Good Friday, processions move slowly through the old streets. During the week churches are filled with music, the smell of incense, and quiet prayers; these rituals passed down through generations.
Catania, Santa Agata.
Easter Sunday marks the resurrection of Christ and brings a sense of festivity after the solemn days leading up to it. But Easter also connects with something older and more natural: the arrival of spring. As winter fades, nature comes back to life—trees bud, flowers bloom, and the days grow longer. It’s a time of new beginnings and hope.
Easter procession in Enna,confraternities.
EASTER CEREMONIES IN ENNA
Some Easter traditions in Sicily have roots that go back even further than Christianity. In Enna, for example, a priest blesses the fields, praying for good crops and weather. This ceremony likely comes from ancient agricultural customs.
Enna, Easter Holy Week confraternities.
One of the most striking events is the procession of fifteen local confraternities, each with its own unique clothing and customs. This tradition dates back to the 15th to 17th centuries and shows the influence of Spanish rule on Sicilian religious life. I was in Enna during easter time a while back.
Enna,confraternities.
EASTER CELEBRATORY FOOD – CASSATA
With any festivity in Sicily, food plays an essential role—and Easter is no exception.
Alongside the religious rituals and springtime renewal, special dishes take centre stage.
Classic Cassata
One of the most iconic Easter desserts is the elaborate Sicilian cassata
While there are several versions of cassata – including a frozen ricotta and sponge cake version known as cassata gelata, and a baked pastry version filled with sweetened ricotta, known as cassata in forno, the most famous is the highly decorated traditional classiccassata.
Cassata al forno
Traditional classiccassata
This eye-catching, baroque-style cake is usually topped with colourful glacé fruits and candied citrus peel. It’s a dessert that isn’t typically made at home but is crafted by skilled pasticceri (pastry makers) in Sicily’s many historic pastry shops (pasticcerie). Some that have been in operation for generations.
In this is the case with most Italians, they leave the pastry making to the experts.
Classic Cassata
The classic Sicilian cassata is made of three main parts. First, there’s a soft sponge cake, often moistened with a splash of liqueur and used to line the mould. Inside is a rich, sweetened ricotta filling, made with sheep’s milk (sweeter than cow’s milk) and mixed with small pieces of candied citrus and dark chocolate. Finally, the entire cake is covered with a layer of green marzipan or a smooth glaze of sugar icing, then decorated with intricate patterns and colourful candied fruits.
Classic Cassata
HISTORICAL NOTES
But cassata is more than just a dessert – it’s a layered representation of Sicily’s complex cultural and historical past and its origins are believed to reflect the many cultures that have shaped the island. The name cassata may come from the Arabic qas’ah, meaning “bowl,” referring to the traditional mould used to shape the cake. The Arabs introduced sugar to Sicily, along with candied fruits, which are key ingredients in the cake. The sponge cake, called Pan di Spagna in Italian, likely came from the Spanish, while the elaborate icing and presentation were influenced by the Monsù – French-trained chefs who worked in aristocratic Sicilian households in the 18th and 19th centuries.
Some of these chefs were French, while others came from Piedmont, a region in northern Italy that was under French control during that time. These Monsù added a touch of French elegance and flair to traditional Sicilian cooking, turning simple ingredients into refined and artistic dishes. Cassata, with its rich mix of flavours, textures, and cultural layers, is a perfect example.
While the traditional cassata is a showstopper, not everyone has the time, or the team of expert pasticceri to make such an elaborate creation.
MY HOMEMADE CASSATA
Homemade Cassata with green marzipan.
I have made many cassate (plural) at home, the last one was probably approximately three years ago.
Homemade Cassata with almond marzipan and green pistachio marzipan.
DECONSTRUCTED CASSATA RECIPE
Tastes change, people’s diets do as well and I now have a more enjoyable method of utilising the same delectable flavours in a simpler manner. By employing the classic ingredients, I have crafted various versions of a deconstructed cassata-inspired dessert, such as the deconstructed cassata below where I added strawberries. I have made a few of these and they have always been a success.
Deconstructed Cassata.
the next time, I intend to serve the deconstructed cassata in a large wine glass. This presentation will be both easy to prepare and visually appealing. Furthermore, my previous deconstructed cassata retains the essence of the original, while eliminating the complexities associated with traditional preparation.
Deconstructed Cassata in a Glass
Ingredients (4 – 6 people)
* 500 g fresh ricotta, combined with a splash of thick cream (adjust the quantity to achieve a creamy consistency)
* 100 g caster sugar (or honey or Monk Fruit, as a sugar substitute)
* A few drops of vanilla concentrate
* Orange and citron (cedro) peel, soaked in Cointreau for at least a couple of hours. I use this French Liqueur because it is very orange flavoured.
* Small pieces of exceptionally dark chocolate
* Savoiardi (sponge fingers or Pan di Spagna/sponge cake) for use as a base or topping. Please refer to the “To Serve” section below for an estimate of the required quantities.
Marzipan leaves
* 100 g blanched almond meal
* 100 g icing sugar
* 1 egg white
* 1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
* 1 drop of green food dye
Method:
Combine the marzipan ingredients in a bowl and knead until smooth. If the mixture is excessively wet, add more almond meal or sugar. I frequently a greater ratio to sugar. Roll the marzipan thinly between two sheets of baking paper and cut into leaf shapes. These marzipan leaves serve as a delightful garnish and a playful tribute to the traditional decoration.
To Serve:
Experiment with the composition of the dessert. Here are a couple of suggestions:
* Place 1-2 Savoiardi (sponge fingers) or some sponge cake on the bottom of the glass and lightly brush it with the reserved Cointreau.
* Spread the creamy ricotta mixture over the sponge layer.
* Top the ricotta layer with another layer of sponge or savoiardi moistened with the reserved Cointreau. Top with some Marzipan leaves.
Alternatively, you can create a layered dessert by alternating between the ricotta mixture and the sponge layer, with each layer lightly brushed with Cointreau.
I prefer this one:
*Spoon generous layers of the ricotta mixture into large wine glasses.
*Garnish with marzipan leaves and 1-2 dry Savoiardi biscuits (not soaked in Cointreau) nestled into the glass, allowing you to scoop up the ricotta with the biscuits. Top with Marzipan leaves. Drink Cointreau on the side.
These are versions of reimagined cassata – less formal, enjoyable and may be more sympathetic of people’s tastes and diet, but still embodying Sicilian character. Ideal for when you desire to serve something visually appealing and steeped in tradition, without dedicating hours to the kitchen.
This is how I found Manna in Sicily: In 2009, I stumbled upon something unexpected while wandering through the bustling market of Ortigia in Syracuse.
Concealed behind the stalls of local produce, including fruits, vegetables, meats, and fish, I discovered a diverse array of unfamiliar and curious ingredients. within a diminutive and captivating shop.
The shop was filled with sacks, boxes, unusual jars, and tins, each containing a treasure trove of smells and visual delights.
Among them was the most intriguing substance – Manna – the Manna I had only encountered mentioned in the Bible.
How entrancing to find that Manna is a crystalline resin, extracted from the bark of ash trees and it doesn’t rain down from heaven.
The shop, aptly named Il Mago Delle Spezie (The Wizard of Spices), was owned by Antonio Drago, a master of culinary alchemy (especially Sicilian) who was more than willing to chat about his aromatic collection. Drago’s offerings showcased an array of local, ancient produce and exotic spices, many originating from distant lands.
My encounter with Antonio Drago left a lasting impression; he was full of stories about the origins of local food and ancient methods.
So, after all this time why am I writing about manna?
A friend recently shared an article from the BBC discussing the revival of manna harvesting in Sicily, and suddenly, memories of that magical shop in Ortigia came flooding back. I remembered discovering this ancient “superfood” and the curious wizard who introduced me to it. As I read about how Manna is now being harvested again in the Madonie mountains, I reflected on my first encounter with this biblical ingredient in that small, mysterious shop that sparked a deeper curiosity about its place in Sicily’s rich, culinary heritage.
There are a number of recipes on the web written in Italian that utilise this ingredient in the place of sugar in cakes, biscuits, beverages, creams and ice cream. it is also a product that is beneficial for the skin.
I looked up Antonio Drago and found a reference on the net, written in Italian about his business and how with the help of his two sons it evolved into bigger premises. Here is what I found:
Antonio Drago’s Journey: From Spice Shop to Culinary Haven
This is a summary and translation of the text. In some places, I have purposely retained some of the illustrative, fanciful language.
In the heart of Syracuse, nestled near the historic market of Ortigia, you’ll find “Drogheria Drago con cucina” at Via Benedictis 20. This charming establishment has evolved since its founding in October 1972, under the rising moon and the alignment of Mercury, Mars, and Jupiter. It was born under the protection of Mercury, the patron of merchants, and the success driven by the combative spirit of Mars.
Originally, the small shop was focused on selling “colonial” goods – ancient, traditional local home-made produce as well as imported spices, herbs, and aromas. Over time, the store expanded to include a variety of local agricultural and fishing products: sun-dried Pachino tomato paste, Trapani salt-cured capers, Avola almonds, Etna pistachios, tuna and swordfish bottarga, and red tuna and mackerel fillets preserved in oil or salted.
Antonio’s two sons – Luciano and Francesco – grew up and eagerly joined the venture. They decided to renovate the space and add a kitchen for preparing and serving local dishes. Thus, “Drogheria Drago con cucina” where customers can enjoy traditional dishes alongside a wide selection of spices, local products, and specialties from the region.
Manna: A Biblical Superfood Revived in Sicily. A summary of the BBC article
Manna is mentioned 17 times in the Bible. It turns out to be an ancient resin harvested from ash trees, traditionally found in the Mediterranean. Once a key part of the local economy, manna harvesting almost vanished with urbanisation and industrialisation over the past 80 years. But today, a revival is underway.
Manna is collected from the bark of Fraxinus ornus trees, where thick lines of the white, mineral-rich resin ooze. It has a honey-like sweetness with almond undertones, and it was once used as a natural sweetener, medicinal aid, and even a form of currency. Despite its decline, Sicilian farmer Giulio Gelardi has been at the forefront of its revival, dedicating himself to bringing this ancient “superfood” back to tables around the world.
In the Madonie mountains, Gelardi has spent decades perfecting the art of manna harvesting, a process that involves precise observation and intuition. Manna is not only a sweet treat but also a powerful medicinal substance, used for a variety of ailments like constipation and sore throats, and it has become an important ingredient in modern Sicilian cuisine.
Today, manna is gaining recognition globally, used by chefs in innovative dishes and even in high-end skincare products. Thanks to the efforts of people like Gelardi, this once-forgotten food is now a prized ingredient, celebrated for its taste, health benefits, and cultural significance.
Here is a simple recipe to make a Ricotta Ice Cream using Manna as the sweetener. Obviously, I have not found Manna to make this.
Beat 5 egg yolks till creamy. Add 300 g of ricotta sifted with a fork, a dash of brandy or rum and half a glass of milk in which you will have dissolved about 60g of manna. Finally pour the mixture into the ice cream maker.
Rather than brandy or rum, I would probably add an orange based liqueur (or one of your choice). This would add flavour, but also sugar and make it sweeter.
I was recently invited to join the morning program on SBS Italian Radio Live, where I had the pleasure of discussing winter vegetables with hosts Massimiliano Gugole, who is based in Sydney and Andrea Pagani is based in Melbourne.
Cassata al forno
