Frittura di pesciolini (latterini) or deep-fried Mediterranean sea smelt

Before leaving for the beach a couple of weeks ago, we were all tired and in need of a vacation. I know I was being a little more impatient than usual with the kids, who in turn were acting a little wilder than normal. Their constant bickering, running, screaming, jumping and obliviousness to our requests generated a fair share of hollering on our side in the days before our departure.

Now, on a normal day, our meals go something like this:

Kids
"What's for dinner?"
" I don't like xyz"
"Bleah"
"You gave him more than me"
"Why doesn't he have to finish his xyz?"
"Bleah"
"Water"
"La, la, la, la, la"
"Burp"
Crash! Splash!
"I'm tired, can you feed me?"
"I have a tummy ache"
"Water"
"What's for dessert?"
"I have to go to the bathroom"
"La, la, la, la, la"
"Bleah"

Us
"Stop saying bleah, we don't say bleah about food"
"This is not a restaurant, you eat what is on the table"
"Stop watching your brother and concentrate on your vegetables"
"Stop copying your sister"
"No eating with our hands"
"Please don't throw pieces of food on the floor"
"Don't you dare spit out that piece of carrot onto my plate again"
"Sit still!"
"Your brother is two, he doesn't understand yet"
"No getting up from the table"
"Stop putting your greasy hands in your hair, we just washed it".
"If you sat still like we ask you to constantly, you wouldn't have spilled that glass of water onto my plate again!"
"Chew with your mouth closed"
"Finish chewing, then you can tell me the story"
"No singing at the table"
"No playing at the table"
"We say excuse me when we do that."

And this is bed time:

In bed, before lights out:
"Can I read a book?"
"Mommy, book?"
"No, not this book. I want that book"
"No, not that book"
"Can you read me another book"
"Please?"
"Pretty please?"
"I'm thirsty"
"Me too"
"Can I have another stuffed animal?"
"Book!"
"I'm hungry"
"Tractor in bed"

Eggplant burgers - polpette di melanzane

It is hard to think of little else here besides the cruise ship that ran aground off of the coast of Isola del Giglio in Tuscany last Friday night. It is all over the news, on every paper, every TV channel, day in and day out. Why is it that we feel this need to become voyeurs of other people’s tragedies? Nowadays media coverage is so extreme, with its real time updates of every minor happening, that it is impossible not to be sucked in. A journalist of a regional paper is tweeting regularly and we are being flooded by photos and videos of the evacuation and the rescue operations by the coast guard, divers and now the marines.

Naturally, we are distressed about the fatalities, worried about the unaccounted passengers (where are they? what happened to them?) and shocked, to say the least, about the dubious behavior of the captain, allegedly (more like definitely - while I was writing the infuriating call between the harbour office and the culprit was broadcast) more concerned about saving his life than his passengers after deviating from the ship’s standard course. There is controversy about his authority to make this kind of decision and the fact that the ever-growing size of cruise ships for profit affects onboard safety. Last but not least, we are once again concerned about another ecological marine disaster, about 500,000 gallons of fuel spilling into the Tyrrhenian Sea.

But let’s face it, we are all victims of reality TV nowadays. How many of us here have not been sucked into the frenzy of watching every detail of these peoples’ nightmare? Who hasn’t clicked onto the blue-tinged photos of the eerie underwater world of luxurious salons and lopsided corridors, where walls have become floors and ceilings walls? Who can suppress a shudder while watching the infra-red images of thousands of people climbing down the side of the ship with rope ladders like ants in a line, such is the size of the capsized monster. Or when listening to the screams in the dark filmed by a helicopter and the victims with their cell phones?

The truth is that, whilst we are all incensed and truly preoccupied, we cannot resist the lure of the Titanic-like imagery, as the NY Times rightly defined it. We are mesmerized because that horrible night of a century ago has taken on a legendary status in our minds. Which one of us has not at one time or another imagined what it would have been like to be on the Titanic as it sank to the bottom of the sea? The ice cold deep water, the dark night, the sound of clanking metal and waves? I can’t help but wonder if some of those missing people are still blocked in their cabin or in one of the many other rooms of the ship. I can’t help imagining what it would be like to be alone on a dark, half submerged ship, I cannot resist directing and acting in an imaginary movie of which I am the sole spectator. The waiting, my calls for help echoing in the empty halls, the fear, the desperation, the cold. Hearing distant sounds and searching for other survivors…

What attracts us is that human trait, mostly compassionate but at times a little twisted, of identifying ourselves in others.

This was supposed to be a post about the sea, the sun, the island of Sicily and a traditional recipe. It turned into a post about the sea, an island and a tragedy.

Once again, we are the lucky ones, enjoying a meal with our family on a Saturday afternoon. My prayers and thoughts go those who were not so lucky on that day.

I made this vegetarian lunch because F and I were going out that evening with friends to a Brazilian restaurant and I knew I would be having enough meat to last me a week. It isn’t really the season for eggplant on this side of the world, but I couldn’t resist the huge offer in my local supermarket the other day since I recently came across a recipe I had bookmarked from Manu’s Menu a while back. It is the season for this vegetable in the other half of the world so I thought there surely would be someone out there who would enjoy this dish as much as we did.

Thai fried coconut & lime shrimp

Yesterday I became a member of yet another food community and had to answer a few questions for my profile. Among these, I was asked what my favorite cookbook was. That is a tough one, I thought to myself, I have many and love them all.

This got me thinking. How do you decide what your favorite cookbook is. Is it the one you cook from the most? Or the one that answers a lot of the questions you have on cooking techniques?  Is it the one that makes you dream about conquering your favorite exotic cuisine? Or iss it that great new one with the lovely pictures that make your mouth water whenever you flip through it?

I love some because they were gifts from people I care about, or because of the stories that go along with the recipes, others for the photography and food styling. Some because they are so comprehensive and some because they are filled with original, exciting and unsual recipes.

I have had a longstanding love for all things food and my first steps in cultivating this passion was buying books about food and cookbooks. I spent many an hour reading them and looking at them, but the truth is that at the time I seldom cooked from them. Despite having cooked basic meals for myself on a daily basis since adulthood, I only started really cooking and experimenting with recipes and pushing my boundaries in the past years. Since then, if I have to be really honest, I have used the Internet and the blogosphere to get inspiration much more than my beloved cookbooks.

 

There was my revelation, that is how I came to realize that you are my favorite cookbook! And that is why, as you may have noticed, so many of my recipes link back to you guys.

Today is no different, I adapted this fabulous recipe from Tiffany, over at Care's Kitchen. It is not the first and will certainly not be the last.

If you have been reading me for a while you will know of my fear of deep frying. Once again I overcame it (I hope once and for all at this point) and fried up these little guys in a handful of minutes. It is a tasty, fresh , summery recipe (I promise, despite the deep frying) that I highly recommend: max result, minimum work (ok, except for cleaning the shrimp. But I did that earlier so actually making the shrimp literally took 10 minutes).

What is your favorite cookbook?

Pasta alla Norma

I became an honorary Sicilian the other day.

How, you ask me?

I married a man who was born in Sicily.

No.

I carried two half-Sicilian children in my womb for eighteen months (that is 9 x 2, I am not an elephant. Yet.).

No.

I made something that is so second nature to a Sicilian that they wouldn't think twice about it, like when you lock your front door and don't remember doing it.

I deep-fried eggplant.

So what is the big deal? 

Well, first of all, deep frying has always scared the bejesus out of me. I do not deep fry anything. Ever. But I decided that now that I have a food blog I have to face up to my fears and tread into the unknown. Secondly, I have been eating my mother in law's fried eggplant for the last 16 years and it somehow never occured to me I could make it myself.

I had one, lonely eggplant in my fridge. I couldn't come up with any ideas and I wanted to make something quick on a week night. What else is new? I decided to make pasta alla Norma. Pasta with a simple, garlic-based tomato sauce, fried eggplant and ricotta salata (see below) sprinkled over it. The dish, which seems to have originated in Catania, was dedicated to the composer Vincenzo Bellini (from this city) and his best-known opera La Norma.

So chop, chop. chop and fry, fry, fry I went.

Result? It had to be good because my DH, who was presumably already drinking fried eggplant in his bottle, said it was perfect, or to be more accurate, perfetta!