Shangai Trattoria, Palermo

The Shanghai Trattoria got a very romantic write up in the New York Times, and the reality was not anything like what I was expecting from the writeup. After reading about this haven for artists and poets, I wanted to go there, and made a special request to try it. The "eclectic furnishings" mentioned in the article were actually white plastic lawn chairs and tables, and the place was lit by stark flourescent rods. It's a little hole in the wall, with sparsely adorned and simply cooked fresh fish at not so cheap prices. Not much ambiance whatsoever. I certainly didn't have any problems with the freshness of the fish. If my father were alive today, he would have gotten a kick out of eating there, because it was kind of an adventure. But there were problems with timing, long waits, lack of cutlery and the waitstaff was slow to respond on the night we went. The publicity that painted the place in broad rosy tones must be the reason why almost every table was filled with Anglophones. I certainly enjoyed the company at my table, and I was happy to have the chance to take a photo of the market at night from that vantage point. We all know location is everything. I would not go so far as to say avoid the place. Just adjust your expectations, and know that Palermo restaurant dining can have much better ambiance and service in so many little neighborhood trattorias.

Lunch might be better?

Sicily: Monreale

After our walking tour of the churches in Palermo, we took an afternoon trip to the town of Monreale, up in the hills about 8 miles outside the city. Our plan was to visit the vast Norman Romanesque cathedral there. We stopped to enjoy the view, overlooking the valley that was once orchards orange, almond, and olive groves, leading down to the sea. There is a custom there, at this particular vista point, for lovers to go there together and make a love pact, sealing it with padlocks. On the locks, they will write messages or maybe their names. The guide informed us that they have prohibited this activity due to the massive profusion of locks that ended up having to be removed. But people still do it. I looked out over the valley out to the sea and took in the thoughts that were swirling in my head about how these people find and use symbol as a beautiful compliment to the special moments in their lives.



The cathedral at Monreale was built also in the 12th century, and is like an unfolding and expansion of the Palatine Chapel, with elaborations of the themes we saw in the first church. There is a difference in the stylism of the figures in the vast collection of Byzantine mosaics there. In this cathedral dedicated to the Madonna, the church is oriented in such a way that on the day of Christ's birth a beam of light shines on an iconic mosaic of her every year at the same time. We observed the same celebration of light as in the Palatine Chapel, with reflective surfaces and glass mosaic work stacked everywhere.



We were lucky to arrive to the church a day in which they opened the enormous set of bronze doors dating to 1179, an event that rarely ever happens. Our guide was very funny in her condemnation of the people who pay to use the church for their weddings, "for show", she said. I didn't mind at all! In fact I was so thankful to have a chance not only to have the doors open illuminating the church in all of its grandeur during our visit, but also to see the relief from the shadow of the open door. It was magical.



Then, as if in a dream, the organ began to play and we stepped back. A proud Sicilian father walked his daughter into the church to the cacophany of Mendelssohn's midsummer night's dream wedding march blaring from the cathedral's organ. The spaces are so enormous and round in this cathedral that the sound was almost surreal. The wedding party and guests were all dressed in black, as is the way in Sicily.



Since the church is a national monument, it must remain open to the public even during weddings, and the tourists milled around and through the the outer chapels admiring the mosaics as the wedding took place. I felt it would be better to go outside and let the wedding take place undisturbed. We accidentally happened upon the best part anyway. It could not have unfolded more perfectly. Outside, trading of saints cards took place outside and I found a simple ceramic cross with an idea of where I plan to put it in the country house, where it will remind me of that perfect day and all of the beauty of the churches in Sicily.



Next Stop: Dinner at Shanghai Trattoria.

Postcard: Palermo

Overlooking the end of Vucciria market from the Shanghai Trattoria on our Monday evening there.

Sicily: The Church Tour in Palermo

Imagine my delight when at our pow wow on the first morning in one of the sumptuous intimate lounges of the hotel where the group was staying, that Judy had arranged to have an historical expert guide us through the churches as an introduction to the city of Palermo. We were ushered to the car and found ourselves quickly at the Palatine Chapel, a delightful 12th century gem which envelopes Byzantine, Islamic, and Romanesque architectural elements in an eclectic mix of architectural style unique to Sicily. The church is accessed through a courtyard in the old Norman fortress.



The expert talked us through the many aspects of Norman and Islamic craft influences at the time, and the multicultural quality of their society at the time this chapel was built. She pointed out some of the symbolism in material as well as imagery, in the colors, the tile work, the materials, in addition to the stories, parables, and scenes portrayed on every possible surface, everywhere. It was like walking into a big 3 dimensional icon.



We were being ushered through in groups, and our experience there was so rich I could barely contain my joy. Judy said that the tour on that first day would be to give us a taste, whereas we might want to come back during a free time and spend an afternoon or day there, examining details that captured our fancy. I feel like this is the kind of place where I could spend a week or a month. There was just so much to see in this one church. If you are young and studying architecture or art history, I urge you to go to Sicily and spend some time in this chapel. There is plenty of material that has not yet been deciphered.



We continued our tour following the expert past many interesting scenes through to the Palermo cathedral.



This cathedral was interesting because of the numerous additions and work that has been completed throughout the centuries. Walking around to the back of the cathedral, it didn't even look like the same building!



Our last stop on the church route for that morning was the little San Cataldo church, dating also to the 12th century.



After a morning of walking, learning, craning our necks, we went to the soup doctor, Casa del Brodo.



Antipasto consisted of: stuffed eggplants, peppers, sardines or anchovies wrapped around stuffing, grilled pumkin, grilled oyster mushrooms, grilled button mushrooms, peppers, cheeses, olives of various kinds. I enjoyed a delicious house specialty of a smooth fava bean veloute. It was delicious! Next stop: Monreale!

Sicily Arrival

Exotic and wild, this idea of going to Sicily was like jumping into a pool of water for me. Some women, when expecting a baby, will nest, knit, decorate the nursery. But when a woman adopts, as the clock ticks down, the urge to travel comes hard. I knew I would have to take this trip or maybe never have a chance.

But back to Sicily. In Sicily, since I didn't understand the language, everything took on a visual richness and texture, like I had just changed the levels, fiddling with the ratio of eye to ear, to let myself experience the sounds and textures with the part of my mind usually engaged with language and story. Now I have done a lot of travel in foreign countries, but for the most part, I spoke the languages. I could listen to the news playing on the radio in a taxi cab, read the paper, easily express my needs, understand the street signs, etc. Last week, I was in textural mode. Relying on gesture, cadence, movement, and light to guide me through. And Judy.

Every surface had a different texture in Palermo, and much of it was not buffed and manicured in any way. Sometimes it shined through in patches, but it was mainly a dramatic patchwork of ruin and riches. Sicily as a whole was loud, smiling, helpful, confusing, imposing, brute and sweetly seductive all at the same time. It took me back to the years when I rolled my little suitcase into all kinds of interesting places without knowing what was going to happen. Back to the day when I thrived on the adrenaline that travel and work in foreign countries gave me.



I rolled my suitcase that night along the streets and over changing surfaces, cobblestone, tile, concrete, and slab, to reach a very nice hotel that Judy had picked out. The group had already gone to dinner, and Judy's message left instructions at the hotel on where to find them. I found my way to the little trattoria, realizing that I had passed it on my way in.

The group extended a welcome and immediately someone put a plate with a slab of sheeps cheese drenched in honey and olive oil in front of me, and poured me a glass of wine. The wine, local, a varietal called Nero d'Avola, knocked my socks off with whispers of licorice, butterscotch and chocolate. It could have been a meal in itself but then the food started coming out. Lots of it, Sicilian baptism by fire. The plates were passed around the table. My kind of people! Great conversation, nice people, we were off to a good start!

Sicily: Pine Nuts, Raisins and Breadcrumbs

On the plane from Lyon to Rome, I had a little conversation with the man seated next to me. I don't know how we got on the topic, but he implied that mankind was in trouble. He seemed like a very nice man, even if his outlook was rather bleak. In a low key reserved Italian kind of way, he cited dates and events, everything organized in his mind. Maybe he had lost some money in stocks, I thought. His clothing was made of rich wools in dark tones, and his straight black hair was speckled with grey. He presented an interesting picture, but not one of a business man. I asked him if he was a history professor. He seemed to have lots of facts memorized.



He halted, looked mysterious, and with a strange muted flair that took me aback, he stated that he was a researcher of sorts. 'What is it that you research?' I asked. He again paused as if to be careful not to give too much away. He said: 'The Church. The history of the Church.' It was then that I realized he must have been a priest. Maybe I was talking to someone even more important than a priest. On his way back to the Vatican, a researcher of church history, it was exciting. What was he doing in Lyon? My imagination was running wild, but I didn't want to pry.



I changed the subject and told him I was very interested in Italian food. 'Well, in Sicily, you won't get Italian food', he said, again serious, probably thinking about the secret masonic miniature stone missing from the puzzle he had finally brought to penultimate fruition, hidden in the concealed chamber accessed from that little chapel off the cloister in a church in Rome. 'You will get Sicilian food.' He smiled, I smiled.

A shift in cabin pressure got me thinking of something completely different. He seemed to have a little gas problem. Wafts of mild odors of stomach upset were coming from him. I felt a little sympathy for this somber character, and silently hoped things would work out for him. I was pleased to simply have met him. The plane landed, and he disappeared into the crowd before I could get his name.



Arrival to Palermo on the island of Sicily from Rome. I realized that it wasn't the ponderous priest that was stinking after all. It was coming from my bag. It was that loaf of Epoisses that I had decided to bring as a gift to Judy Witts Francini, the diva in charge of Divina Cucina, normally out of Florence but doing a week in Sicily that I simply could not pass up. To say that she is a fellow food enthusiast would be an understatement. This woman has been there and done that all over Italy 15 times over for the last 25 years. They serve a dish and she explains in detail what makes it prepared right there, in contrast to how it is done in a half a dozen other regions of Italy. She is a mine of information. I knew I was going to be in good hands. I wanted to come bearing something good, but got a little carried away... Wrapped in two ziplocks, fumes still escaping, it called to everyone within a 3 foot radius of my carry-on. It never stinks like this until I take it out of its element. Why do I never learn? Why do I always think that someone forgot to change a baby's diaper or has a gas problem? My obsession with bringing the best of France to friends in far away places is really out of control sometimes, I fretted. My heart was in the right place, anyway. I sat next to an old man on the bus, and he shifted nervously in his seat all the way into town. The bus driver on the shuttle from the airport turned on the air and commenced to gesture grandly and lecture to each and every driver in a language even I could understand even though I don't speak Sicilian (or Italian for that matter).

Postcard: Sicily with Judy Witts Francini

This week I am going to tell you the story of my trip to Sicily. It was a feast for the soul.