Edible Fresco Cake inspired by Rome’s Villa Livia and Villa Farnesina
Edible fresco cake is an unexpected subject for my blog, yet this exquisite creation harmonises food, art, memories and a celebration in an unforgettable manner.
Gluten-free edible fresco cake decorated with Roman-inspired imagery
A Cake to Admire
So, shall we eat the cake, or simply admire it a little longer?
This cake was made by a friend for a special 70th birthday celebration in Hobart. It was conceived, baked and decorated by Valerie Sparks for her husband Roger. Valerie is an artist whose work explores immersive spaces—frescoes, glasshouses, historic wallpapers and contemporary light installations. Therefore, it is no surprise that she approached this cake as both a cook and an artist.
Turning Images into Edible Art
To begin with, the decoration came from edible prints—sometimes called icing sheets or sugar sheets—made by a specialty cake shop. A digital image is adjusted for colour and size, and then printed with food-safe inks onto a thin sheet of starch or sugar paste (in this case, gluten-free). As a result, once applied to a smooth iced surface, the image becomes part of the cake, almost like a transferred fresco.
Detail inspired by the frescoes of Villa Livia
Valerie collected the printed image and applied it to a well-chilled, buttercream-frosted cake. Meanwhile, the cake itself was built from several layers of the same size, baked over a few days and assembled with buttercream. Following the instructions carefully, she smoothed the edible sheet from the centre outwards to avoid air bubbles. Finally, she finished it with a border so that the image blended naturally into the design.
The Flavours
In addition, the cake was gluten-free, made with flour, eggs, sugar, butter, lemon zest and almond meal. Consequently, it had a light texture, gently perfumed with citrus and enriched by the almonds. The lemon butter icing—made with butter, icing sugar and fresh lemon juice—added a soft sweetness. At the same time, it provided a clean, sharp note of acidity that balanced the flavours beautifully.
Inspiration from Rome
Not surprisingly, Rome is one of Valerie and Roger’s favourite cities. During their travels, they were deeply taken by the frescoes of the Villa of Livia and the Villa Farnesina.
The Garden of the Villa of Livia
Roger, sitting in the room in Villa Livia surrounded by the frescoes
At the Villa of Livia, the frescoes—now preserved in the Palazzo Massimo alle Terme—once surrounded an underground dining room with a painted garden. In fact, trees heavy with fruit, flowering plants and birds create the illusion of a space open to the air, suggesting an eternal spring.
Fresco of lush garden with fruit trees and birds
Often interpreted as a symbol of abundance, fertility, and cultivated order, the garden may also carry subtle political meaning, reflecting the peace and prosperity associated with Augustus’ reign.
These images were used to decorate the sides of the fresco cake.
These works belonged to Livia Drusilla, wife of Augustus, a powerful and influential woman and the villa served as her country residence.
Livia Drusilla Claudia (59 BC – AD 29) was the daughter of a senator. She married Tiberius Claudius Nero around 43 BC (they had two sons, Tiberius and Drusus), but they divorced in 38 BC to marry Octavian, Julius Caesar’s adopted son and heir. Octavian became the first Roman emperor in 27 BC, known as Augustus, and Livia became the Roman empress. Livia and Augustus were married for over fifty years, and she was a trusted advisor to Augustus. Her son Tiberius became emperor in AD 14 after Augustus.
The Myth and Movement of Villa Farnesina
By contrast, the mood at the Villa Farnesina changes. The frescoes designed by Raphael and his workshop tell the story of Cupid and Psyche. Here, there is movement, lightness and grace. In particular, the doves—sacred to Venus—gently draw her chariot. As a result, they bring a softness to the scenes and remind us that even in myth, tenderness, love, grace and beauty have a place.
Doves are a recurring motif in Raphael’s frescoes at Villa Farnesina, notably in the depiction of doves pulling Venus’ chariot.Venus and her chariot pulled by doves
A Cake to Remember
Ultimately, this edible fresco cake brought together the stillness of a painted garden, the history and myths, the pleasure of sharing food at this celebration and Valerie’s skills . Although the cake was intended to be consumed, it also invited us to pause and observe—as we might before a fresco—before it was enjoyed further.
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.
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.
Easter in Sicily is one of the most significant celebrations of the year, where faith, spring , history and culinary traditions converge. And among them, Cassata stands out — not just as a dessert, but as a reflection of Sicily itself: rich, layered, and shaped by many cultural histories.
Ornate cart wheeled through the streets for Processions.
Renowned for its deeply rooted Sicilian Easter customs, the island commemorates Holy Week with solemn processions, ancient rituals.
HOLY WEEK
The Easter period begins with Holy Week, from Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday, when towns and cities across Sicily are marked by devotion and tradition. Churches fill with incense, music and prayer, while the streets become the stage for solemn processions that have been passed down through generations.
In Enna, celebrations continue even in the week following Easter.
Catania, Santa Agata, lit up .
On Good Friday in particular, statues depicting scenes from the Passion of Christ are carried slowly through ancient streets.
Ancient Rituals and Easter Processions in Sicily
Many of these Easter customs are not only religious but also historical, with origins that may reach further back than Christianity itself.
The religious celebrations continue in the hill town of Enna, one of Sicily’s most renowned Easter centres.
These are photos ‘Albis’ Sunday. celebrated the following Sunday after Easter Sunday. The processions, consist of all-male groups of various ages and sodalities or confraternities from different churches or fellowships. The procession travelled from Piazza Mazzini to the nearby Lombard castle in Enna.
These processions, often accompanied by confraternities in traditional dress, create an atmosphere that is both deeply spiritual and visually striking.
Processions move slowly through the town of Enna.
A priest blesses the surrounding fields during the celebrations, invoking good harvests and favourable weather. This ritual reflects an enduring connection to the land and echoes ancient agricultural traditions.
The Blessing of the fields.
One of the most striking is the procession of fifteen religious confraternities, each wearing distinctive robes and carrying sacred statues.
Processions move slowly through the town of Enna.
These brotherhoods date from the 15th to 17th centuries, reflecting the strong influence of Spanish rule on Sicilian religious life.
one of the Confraternities.
EASTER SUNDAY AND THE ARRIVAL OF SPRING
After the solemnity of Holy Week, Easter Sunday brings a sense of release and joy. It commemorates the Resurrection of Christ, but it also coincides with the arrival of spring — a season that has always held deep meaning in Sicily.
As winter recedes, the landscape begins to change. Trees bud, flowers appear and the days grow longer. This natural renewal reinforces the deeper symbolism of Easter as a time of rebirth, hope and continuity.
Cassata Siciliana: A SYMBOL OF EASTER AND CULTURAL HISTORY
Easter foods in Sicily are never incidental; they carry memory, history and meaning. Among them, Cassata Siciliana stands as the most iconic — not simply a dessert, but a reflection of the island itself: layered, complex and shaped by many cultures.
With its sponge, sweetened ricotta, candied fruit and marzipan, cassata tells a story of Sicily’s past. Arab influences introduced sugar, citrus and the art of candying fruit. The name cassata may derive from the Arabic word qas’ah, meaning a bowl or basin, referring to the mould used to shape the cake.
The sponge — pan di Spagna — points to Spanish connections. Later, French-trained chefs called monsù refined the dessert in aristocratic kitchens adding elegance and structure. Convent kitchens also played an important role, especially in the development of almond-based sweets and marzipan.
Nuns in Convents also contributed greatly to the development of Sicilian Pastries, especially those made with almonds and Marzipan.
Cassata, as we know it today, is the result of all these influences coming together.
PASTICCERIE (pastry shops)
It is also a cake that reflects Sicily’s love of colour, sweetness and elaborate presentation.
For this reason, cassata is rarely made at home in Sicily. It is usually the work of skilled pasticceri, many working in historic pastry shops that have preserved these techniques over generations. Like many elaborate Italian desserts, it is often left to those who have mastered the craft.
The result is a dessert that is both theatrical and deeply rooted in Sicilian tradition. The classic Sicilian cassata is an eye-catching, baroque-style cake, usually decorated with colourful glacé fruits and candied citrus peel.
The Other Forms of Cassata
There are other versions of cassata.
Cassata gelata – a frozen dessert made with ricotta and sponge cake
Cassata al forno – a baked pastry filled with sweetened ricotta
Cassata al forno is very much like a Baked Ricotta Cheese Cake.
Cassata at Home
While the traditional cassata may appear elaborate, its essence is simple — good ricotta, balanced sweetness and careful assembly. Making it at home is less about perfect decoration and more about understanding these elements and respecting their origins.
Over the years I have made several homemade cassate, sometimes decorating them with green marzipan and sometimes with a mixture of almond and pistachio marzipan.
CASSATA EXPLAINED
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.
Sponge cake cut into sections to assemble the cassata.
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.
The ricotta filling – the centre of the cassata.
Finally, the entire cake is covered with a layer of green marzipan or glassa a smooth glaze of sugar icing, then decorated with intricate patterns and colourful candied fruits.
HERE ARE Simpler and Deconstructed Versions of CASSATA
While the traditional cassata is a spectacular dessert, it is also labour-intensive.
Tastes change, and many people today prefer desserts that are lighter and less elaborate.
For this reason I often prepare simplified versions that use the same classic ingredients — ricotta, sponge, almonds and citrus — but in a more relaxed form.
One example is a deconstructed cassata, where the familiar flavours are layered in glasses rather than assembled as a formal cake. Sometimes I add fresh strawberries, which complement the ricotta beautifully.
These variations retain the essence of cassata while eliminating the complexities of traditional preparation.
Marzipan Leaves Recipe
To garnish these desserts I often prepare simple marzipan leaves, a playful reference to the decorative marzipan traditionally used on cassata.
Ingredients
100 g blanched almond meal
100 g icing sugar
1 egg white
¼ tsp vanilla extract
1 drop green food colouring
Method
Combine all ingredients and knead until smooth. If the mixture is too soft, add a little more almond meal or icing sugar.
Roll the marzipan thinly between sheets of baking paper and cut into leaf shapes.
Reimagining Cassata — Less Formal
These simplified desserts reinterpret cassata in a relaxed way. They retain the characteristic flavours of ricotta, almonds and citrus while being quicker to prepare.
Layered Cassata in a Glass
Place one or two Savoiardi biscuits or sponge cake in the bottom of a glass and lightly brush with Cointreau.
Add a layer of sweetened ricotta mixture, then another layer of sponge or Savoiardi.
Finish with marzipan leaves.
EVEN Simpler
Spoon generous layers of ricotta mixture into large wine glasses.
Add marzipan leaves and one or two dry Savoiardi biscuits that can be used to scoop up the ricotta. Serve the Cointreau separately.
Cassata on the Blog Since 2009
Cassata has appeared frequently on All Things Sicilian and More over the years. If you would like to explore further, here are some related posts:
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.
When I go to Adelaide, I always look forward to buying and eating fish, and one of the best places for eating fish in a casual place is a small stall at the Adelaide Central Market called Fair Seafood.
I used to live in Adelaide and am very aware that many varieties of excellent tasting fish that is caught and sold in South Australia, but Fair Seafood is not just about fresh fish – it’s about sustainability, and knowing exactly where your seafood comes from. Here you will also find hung fish.
Producers who look after their produce is something I really appreciate, especially when it comes to supporting fishers and ethical practices.
Apart from sustainably fished South Australian varieties of fish they also source fish from other places in Australia, but I was also very pleased to see salmon from New Zealand (King salmon) on the menu. I live in Melbourne and have been buying this salmon at the Queen Victoria Market. Tasmanian salmon has been off my menu for many years; their farmed salmon industry has attracted significant criticism for its continued expansion and alleged environmental impact.
King salmon is farmed in New Zealand and is a green-listed alternative and farmed more responsibly. The impact of salmon farming in New Zealand is kept under tighter government control.
There were four of us who ate at Fair Food last year and we had such a great meal that I was determined to go back, this time with some new friends to share the experience. And just like last year, the five of us were not disappointed. The food was just as amazing as I remembered, and their menu has expanded even more since my last visit.
As an added pleasure, they have a wine licence – so we paired our meal with some new to me, South Australian wines. In Victoria we don’t have access to many wines from the less known regions and wineries from South Australia, so I feel very pleased to have the opportunity to try new wines. The table service was excellent. The personnel is very well informative and happy to share information and to tase the wine.
If you’re ever in Adelaide, the Adelaide Central Market is always worth a visit so if you feel like eating fresh fish go to Fair Seafood. Whether you’re buying fresh fish or enjoying a meal, you’ll be supporting sustainable practices and getting a taste of some of the best seafood around.
You can sit on a stall and eat at the counter or at tables.
This is the post I wrote about Fair Seafood last year. It contains more information about Sustainable fish:
Kohlrabi is a odd looking vegetable that has remained relatively unknown. It belongs to the Brassica family, which includes more favoured vegetables like broccoli, kale, and cabbage. It has a round, bulbous shape that can be green, purple, or white, and grows above ground on a thick stem; it has an unconventional appearance that seems to deter home cooks.
Kohlrabi has a mild, slightly sweet taste and a crisp texture similar to a turnip or radish. It tastes like a cross between cabbage (sweetness, and maybe just a little bit of sharp heat) and a mild radish (spicy, peppery, like mustard and horseradish).
The bulb of kohlrabi can be eaten raw and cooked, is low in calories packed with vitamins and antioxidants. The leaves can be cooked, the young leaves can be added to salads.
But despite its nutritional pedigree and potential appeal, kohlrabi an underappreciated vegetable in many kitchens.
I was recently asked to write about kohlrabi by Lindsay Marie Morris, a novelist and journalist based in Los Angeles, California. Her work spans multiple topics and she has a strong passion for Sicilian culture and cuisine.
Lindsay Marie Morris found kohlrabi recipes on my blog.
In Ragusa (south eastern Sicily) is where my father’s family lives and they cook the bulb and leaves with homemade pasta called Causunedda. The water that the vegetables are cooked in (broth) is enriched with fresh pork rind and the pasta is also cooked in the broth. It may not sound appealing, but this wet pasta dish is very unique and steeped in family tradition.
The Ragusani are known for their straightforward, flavourful dishes that focus on local produce, rich meats—especially pork—and seasonal vegetables. This emphasis on simplicity has profoundly shaped my understanding of cooking, showing me that the best meals often come from the freshest ingredients and strong traditions.
Below, photo of the homemade Causunedda as made by one of the elderly aunt and helped by the family. Unfortunately she is deceased and probably the younger faily members no longer make them.
My cousin in Ragusa mixing the Causanedda. It is usually a family affair.
In Augusta (just south of Catania), a cousin from my mother’s side of the family treats its bulb and leaves as many Italians treat green, leafy vegetables. The vegetables are cooked – boiled, then drained and sautéed in extra virgin olive oil, garlic and anchovies. Chillies are optional, but adding chillies in Sicily is very common. The sautéd vegetables are then used to dress. and like when cooking pasta with broccoli, the pasta is cooked in the flavoured water that has been used to cook the broccoli.
Follow Lindsay Marie Morris’s author journey and explore her writing about Sicilian culture at lindsaymorris.com/blog.
A very early photograth of me holding bunches of Kohlrabi in Ragusa. You can see how the size of the bulbs are smaller and there are many more leaves than the ones I see and buy in Australia and have seen in other European countries and in Vietnam.
Initially, the plan for our road trip was straightforward, my partner and I were to head north in our simple campervan to the Northern Territory and then loop back to Melbourne via Mount Isa and the inland roads of Queensland and make our way back to Melbourne.
But just like my cooking, there were revisions, adjustments, unexpected twists and the itinerary evolved – the two-month trip became a three-month exploration.
I left Melbourne on July 16 (2024) driving first to Mildura and then through parts of South Australia to the Flinders Ranges and on to Marree and Coober Pedy. From there we planned to travel via Uluru and Kata Tjuta National Parks to Toritja (Western McDonnells) and Alice Springs to Darwin, stopping off at Litchfield National Park, Katherine Gorge and, of course, many places in between.
The second lap was from Darwin to Kakadu and Katherine, into Karumba in the Gulf of Carpentaria, the Atherton Tableland to Cairns, down the Great Barrier Reef Coast through places like Mission Beach and Cardwell to Townsville.
From Townsville, I travelled through inland Queensland to Emerald, Carnarvon Gorge and Roma, and into Northern New South Wales to Lighting Ridge, Dubbo and Canowindra, Junee, Jerilderrie, Shepperton. Once again with many places in between.
Every location and every state we travelled trough on our road trip disclosed their unique cultures and tapestries of breathtaking landscapes, waterfalls, vibrant colours, extremes of dry and lush vegetation, shifting weather, dawn and dusk, and the fascinating varying cycles of the seasons. The six Aboriginal seasons rather than our four colonial imports make so much more sense in a country as vast as Australia. I marvelled at the ancient rock paintings and the splendid Aboriginal Art in galleries and museums.
On our road trip, cooking in our camper van is an outdoor affair. Meals were quick and easy, ready to be eaten and cleaned away before dusk to escape the incoming swarm of mosquitoes and sandflies. The buzzing of the mosquitoes was a constant alert to their presence, but the tiny insects were crafty, silent attackers, their bites lingering for days.
This transient cooking meant I didn’t always have sufficient light or time to take photos of our meals. Still, my partner and I ate extremely well and healthily, even if in the remote outback, the variety of fresh vegetables were lacking. I took my chances to stock up for a few days at a time from the larger towns.
I bought fresh herbs (such as parsley, rosemary, thyme and oregano) from home and was happy to find the bay leaves and thyme lasted in the ice box for about four weeks. In some supermarkets I was able to buy basil and coriander. From a stall in the front of a sugar cane plantation in north Queensland I bought fresh tumeric. As you can see, my cooking was not all Italian, but the principles, respect of ingredients and dedication remain the same.
I cooked mainly vegetarian meals: cauliflower, zucchini, red peppers and sweet potatoes were always available and I made many tasty vegetable braises using pulses, often with eggs poached in the braises or topped with feta. This was the cheese that mostly available, sold in plastic packs, I was willing to I forget the Italian fresh cheeses as I was for anything that was a little out of the ordinary.
Tomatoes, avocado, lettuce and, strangely enough, rocket and red cabbage were also available in some places so I managed to make interesting salads. I did not expect to see any Italian greens, but bok choi was plentiful in most places – especially North Queensland – and a variation of simple stir fries with bean curd was often on the menu. Pulses and nuts have always been part of my cooking. Once again I had to I forget the Italian vegetables and anything that was a little out of the ordinary.
I seem not to have bothered with taking many photos of vegetarian dishes, instead I took photos of the very few occasions I cooked meat or fish – Barramundi in the gulf of Carpentaria and in northern Queensland, green tiger prawns on Queensland’s north coast and fillet steak in the Northern territory and it was so good to find lush greens in the Atherton Tablelands that I bought pork fillet, bok choi, coriander and fresh ginger that I accompanied with squashed cucumber.
Barramundi cooked two ways:
Fillet steak with a herb butter:
Pork fillet with bok choi
Green Tiger Prawns:
We only had two meals out, each with friends and here, too, we embraced the local flavours. In Cairns, northern Queensland I ordered barramundi at a yacht club with friends visiting from South Australia and later, in Canowindra in central New South Wales, I enjoyed a hearty steak, fittingly so, since our friend is an environmental consultant, pastoralist adviser and beef cattle rancher.
Purchasing alcohol while traversing the outback comes with its own set of rules, and ordering alcohol can be an intimidating experience! I quickly learned that beer reigns supreme as the drink of choice. And if you find yourself in a remote location, avoid asking for specific wine varietals, dry cider, or red wine that has not been chilled to the same degree as beer—there’s no forgiveness!
Phone and internet coverage was very spotty at best in the outback. When we did manage to connect, it was all about researching maps, checking road conditions, and booking campsites.
In my previous post, “From Melbourne to Darwin,” I shared snapshots of some of the food from that leg of the journey, and I’ll continue to do this in this post. i had difficulties selecting photos, there are so many, and we covered so much ground.
This post contains photos of the cooking that can be achieved with a simple stove in an extremely basic van while travelling in country Australia. Experiencing nature and being part of the stunningly beautiful scenery stimulates the appetite.
I left Melbourne six weeks ago and although I have been cooking every night, I have had very little time or phone coverage to write posts. At the same time it has also been very difficult to take photographs in the semi dark of the food I am cooking or eating. Our VW carrier is a simple van and the cooking facilities have to be done outside, but we have continued to eat healthy fresh food. This has never been difficult because when we travel we are picking up a vegetable or two in the bigger communities and storing them in our little icebox, so we have had fresh produce all the way. A few tins of pulses help but I have also carried a selection of pulses, the small shaped ones, and once soaked they cook quickly.
Zucchini, cabbage, sweet potatoes, carrots, pumpkin and cauliflower seem to be available everywhere and wherever we could we bought spinach (the blede type) and silver beet. We always do well with fresh vegetables, wherever we are!
I brought fresh herbs from home and after 6 weeks I still have thyme and bay leaves. These last for ever! Spices are also a must and there are many of those.
Here are some photos of some of the things I cooked or was in the process of cooking. The stunningly beautiful scenery and surprisingly vivid colours of the Northern Territory certainly are beautiful!
Food
And now for some Northern Territory scenery:
And all of this, performed in a very simple van!
These links have more photos and ideas for what can be achieved:
