Paste di Mandorla for zio Filippo

I probably shouldn't call these paste di mandorle because technically they aren't.

But let me start from the beginning.

On Wednesday zio Filippo (F's uncle) passed away. It was in the air, I woke up feeling a little melanchonic. I just didn't have it in me to write anything funny or cutesy. But you know that already if you read my last post. Then, in the evening, we got the sad news from Sicily.

Zio Filippo was no longer a young man and in the past year the C word had entered his life. Despite this, his death took us by surprise. It is not that long ago that I remember him working his piece of land, telling us about the many fruits his plants were bearing, the plants he tended to with great love and care. He loved food and cooking and often sent us things he had picked, prepared with his own hands or delicacies he had discovered in the surrounding area. He loved to read, he loved theater and music. I have fond memories of him singing a beautiful aria one evening shortly after our wedding. That night food was plenty, wine was flowing in copious amounts and by the end of the evening both my relatives and F's had taken turns singing and reciting poems and not an eye was dry. It was beautiful, a memory I will always cherish.

But the thing zio Filippo loved above all, after his family of course, was his island, so ruggedly beautiful, so rich in history and art, so misunderstood and plagued by the corruption of few.

My in-laws were already on their way to Sicily when the news came and attended the funeral yesterday for all of us. F lit a candle in church and I left the office a little early to make these sweets for him. While his grandson, the one named after him and who is following in his footsteps pursuing a military career, was reading a letter about him to a crowd in Trapani and F was lighting the wick, I was mixing the ingredients, the essence of Sicily. Whilst grinding the almonds I started thinking of the beauty of the blooming trees, while I was zesting the lemon I thought of the island's clear waters, the crisp blue sky, the winds from Africa. I thought of zio Filippo, his bushy eyebrows, his family, the many children and grandchildren he left behind. I thought that he had done good, that he had had a full rich life, no regrets. I thought of his wife, zia Lina, of the first time I saw her making paste di mandorle in my mother in law's kitchen and of how hard it must be for her. They were married for more than half a century.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I realized too late that I had skipped an important step. I forgot to beat the egg whites. I just mixed them in! I baked the cookies anyway, determined to make these in Filippo's memory and honor. I'm glad I did, because they turned out delicious anyway. They were chewy and full of flavor. Perhaps they didn't rise as much and they were chewy and soft instead of being slighty cakeu and moist, but every bite was still a bite of Sicily.

Per te, zio Filippo.


I got the recipe from Manu's Menu.
This is a vegetarian recipe, it uses up those left over egg whites in your freezer, it has just four ingredients and it is gluten free. What are you waiting for?

Chocolate-dipped coconut macaroons

I don't think I have ever baked with coconut before. I don't know what posessed me to buy a bag of shredded coconut at the supermarket the other day. I am sure I had probably read a post somewhere on a blog, so I blame one of you for sending me subliminal messages to "buy coconut", but for the life of me I don't remember that recipe.

I like coconut as much as the next person. I have childhood memories of coconut that take me back to tropical beaches. My dad used to buy me virgin Pina Coladas when we spent Christmas together in the Carribean. I remember drinking coconut water out of the fruit in a little fishing boat in an atoll in the Indian Ocean. The fisherman then cracked it open and showed me how to scrape out the still-tender pulp. Coconut reminds me of disco days in the '80s and Batida de Coco (no, I am not that old, there is simply no drinking age in Italy). It reminds me of boarding school. There was a glass-panelled room equipped with vending machines where students were allowed to smoke. It was freezing, but we spent many an afternoon looking out onto the snow-capped mountains, chatting about boys and sharing a cigarette between five of us, nibbling on Bounty bars.  

Nowadays my coconut consumption usually involves curries and soups and we always have some coconut milk stashed away in our cupboards. But what to do with shredded, dry coconut? I started looking for recipes and was all too excited to find out that you needed condensed milk to make coconut macaroons. I had had an open jar in my fridge for ages (I don't remember what I used that for either of course) and couldn't get myself to either dispose of it or use it. I mean, with the insanely high sugar content, it couldn't really go bad right? That is why it is used during wars and in hot climates, no?

When I realized my coconut/condensed milk ratio was exactly right, I knew I had to make these. I could even finally use up some of the egg whites that piss me off every time I see them in my freezer because I never use them and they take up precious space I had so diligently stored in my freezer! I threw together the few ingredients required, felt pretty darn good about myself and my efforts to avoid waste, and made these little treats that help you forget you are in the middle of a wet winter with every bite.