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.
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:
I first wrote this post many years ago. It has a recipe for making buckwheat and rye pasta. Buckwheat spiralli are commercially available and are obviously a very easy choice. The post also contains information about some of the mountainous regions of northern Italy.
Potatoes cabbage and buckwheat pasta when cooked by themselves are not particularly flavourful. The distinctive flavour of this dish is enhanced by butter, garlic and sage and the alpine cheeses that the region is renowned for producing such as Bitto and Valtellina Casera (DOP cheeses – Protected Designation of Origin). Alternatively use Fontina or Gruyère, Emmental, Edam, or Gouda.
The diversity of Italian regional cuisine, continues to inspire me and in this post I am unraveling some of the intricacies of Italian egg pasta, from tagliatelle to tortelli.
I really like the texture and taste of pasta made with eggs; the number of eggs in the dough can significantly influence the texture, with a higher egg count often resulting in a firmer bite.
When we think of egg pasta, what may immediately come to mind are the classics: tagliatelle, pappardelle, fettucine, and lasagne. These are all variations on the theme of ribbons or squares or rectangular sheets of pasta, each with its own story and preferred accompaniments.
Pappardelle, slightly broader than tagliatelle, and are widely used in Tuscan kitchens. They’re frequently paired with strong meaty sauces – usually tomatoes and herbs slow cooked with beef, pork or lamb. Celebrated across the region of Tuscany is the classic dish of pappardelle with cinghiale (wild boar) and in season, pappardelle with porcini mushrooms.
Fettucine are more narrow than tagliatelle. Both tagliatelle and fettucine are usually sold as nidi (nests). These delicate ribbons are more fragile than their broader counterparts and the strands are coiled in the shape of small nests and nestled snugly in their packaging.
Tagliatelle are from the cuisines of somewhere from Bologna or Modena (Emilia Romagna), or in the Marche region. The dough is generally made with less eggs. Ragú alla Bolognese is the renowned dressing for tagliatelle but once again traditionally there were meat based sauces but this is now changing.
Small shapes or thin strips of egg pasta are also excellent in broth – take the very fine egg noodles called fillini (fili means threads) and tagliolini are fine strips of pasta (or tajerin in Piedmontese). Quadretti/quadrini are little squares and this shape is popular all over Italy. It is usually made with the bits of fresh pasta that are left over from making pasta ribbons and lasagna rectangles. Oddly cut pasta is also popular.
Cannelloni, like lasagne, are made with rectangular shaped cuts of pasta, with the pasta folded over the filling.
But egg pasta isn’t only cut into ribbons and sheets; it’s also about the crafting of the varieties of pasta ripiena (filled/stuffed pasta) usually filled with a combination of meat, cheese and/or vegetables. Each variety, with its distinct shape, character and sauce, tells a story of the region where it is made.
There are many shapes of filled pasta mainly from the regions of Emilia Romagna, Lombardy, Liguria and Piedmont. The most widely known type of filled pasta are the ravioli, mainly from Liguria. Ravioli come in various sizes and are made with various fillings and are common all over Italy.
Depending on how familiar you are with eating in various parts of Italy or eateries in your home country that have regional Italian, stuffed pasta specialties, you may be familiar with tortellini, tortelli, (larger version), cappelletti cappellacci (larger version) anolini/agnolini and agnolotti (larger version).
And as you would expect, there are regional variations in the shapes, size and fillings. For example, the classic filling for tortelli in Parma and Piacenza (Emiglia Romagna) includes ricotta and herbs, but you can also find them filled with meat. In Mantua (Lombardy) it is pumpkin, with amaretti and mustard. Most of these tortelli are the usually formed by cutting a circle of pasta, placing the stuffing on one side and folding the other half of pasta over the stuffing. I call this moon shaped. But in Maremma (Tuscany) the tortello is square shaped and larger than ravioli, and stuffed with ricotta, spinach, nutmeg and cheese. In Mugello and Casentino (Tuscany) the usual filling is potato, parmesan and nutmeg and is dressed with a strong meat sauce.
In the very norther region of Val D’Aosta the tortelli are square or rectangular and stuffed with spinach or minced veal, but in the Marche region the filling is a combination of mountain herbs.
The one tortello that sticks in my mind is the very unusual Cremasco tortello:(Republic of Venice) filled with amaretti (almond biscuits) and mostaccini (spiced biscuits) egg yolk, raisins, candied fruit and grated cheese. This makes so much sense to me because Venezia was the centre of the spice trade. These Venetian tortelli are dressed with brown butter and sage dressing.
In South Tyrol, schlutzkrapfen are traditionally made with a mix of barley or rye flour and stuffed with a mixture of spinach and ricotta or with turnips and potatoes, depending on availability. Sometimes smoked pork is added. It is not a big surprise that the region has an Austrian culinary influence.
Although most of these stuffed pasta types I have mentioned are found in Northern Italy, I will include the ricotta ravioli as made in the southern east corner of Sicily. My zia Niluzza who lived in Ragusa made the best traditional, large ravioli filled with ricotta and served with a strong tomato and a pork based sugo. The ravioli are also exquisite dressed with black ink sauce.
Culurgiones are from Sardinia and their filling consists of boiled potatoes, onions and mint, some also add pecorino others ricotta.
Except for the small tortellini that are cooked in broth (capon, beef, chicken), all of the filled pasta shapes are cooked like pasta in boiling water and dressed with various sauces typical of the region where they originate.
The possibilities for sauces are many, for example there are various combinations that could be based on cheese, cream, butter, ham/prosciutto, peas, mushroom, brown sage butter, walnut or simple tomato/ tomato and meat sugo, including pork sausages.
There are stuffings made with fish, fish and vegetables: crab is popular. And of course there are light fish sauces to dress the fish stuffed pasta, these are usually butter and fish fumet based. Black ink sauce is marvellous.
And what is still interesting that in Italy, a local would respect and mostly protect the tradition, even though in recent years, there’s been a shift towards lighter vegetable-based sauces that are so popular now in modern cuisine.
One very simple sauce that is very common in dressing egg pasta of all shapes and packages is the brown butter and sage sauce.
Some of you may know brown butter sauce as the traditional beurre noisette (hazelnut butter), a French sauce made simply by heating unsalted butter (salted butter tends to foam more and has more sediment).
Brown butter has a rich, nutty flavour and with the addition of fresh sage, it is used to dress egg pasta in northern Italy. It is a popular autumnal dressing that complements ingredients such as mushroom, pumpkin and potato.
Brownt butter and sage dressing for egg pasta (4 people):
50 g of butter
15-20 sage leaves
Melt the butter over low heat in a pan. Add the sage leaves letting them sizzle gently for a few minutes. Ensure to constantly stir the butter being careful not to burn it. When you have done this, take the pan off the heat and transfer the butter to a separate bowl. This will ensure that it doesn’t burn due to residual heat.
Once the pasta is cooked, drain the pasta, empty the pot and put the pasta back inside. Remove some of the leaves from the butter (optional) before dressing the pasta.
Stir gently to coat the pasta. At this stage I also like to add black pepper.
Grated Parmesan is a must.
One of my aunts was Piedmontese and was an excellent cook. Her daughter (my cousin Rosadele) and my Sicilian uncle lived in Genova (Liguria). The two women were champions for making Piemontese and Ligurian specialties especially stuffed pasta – agnolotti in soft fresh cheese sauces and pansoti in walnut and marjoram pesto were two favourites.
My parents and I visited the relatives in Genova every year on our habitual yearly summer trip from Trieste to Sicily. We ate very well.
Having lived in Trieste and with relatives spanning from Piedmont to Sicily (Ragusa and Augusta, quite different cooking), I count myself lucky to have this culinary heritage that I enjoy exploring .
