Sicily - Take 2

What a difference a year makes..

I am back in one of my favourite places. At the beautiful Sicilian home of my dear friend Anna and her husband Bill. My third visit. The first in 2021 was going to be an unknown really as this would be the only time we had really spent more than a full day together. We have the kind of friendship where you keep in touch regularly and meet up every now and then, but you know there is a special bond that is there, whether you are with each other in person or not.

I had met Anna many years before through our mutual friend, larger than life New Yorker, Frank, at her cookery school in Beaconsfield “Italian Secrets”. Frank had Italian heritage, in fact the Palamaras hailed from Lipari, coincidentally an island I can now see from the bedroom in which I am staying. Frank and I would sometimes cook together and often compare notes on Italian food. He introduced me to my first cannoli from a small bakery in the Big Apple and his children and I wolfed down a huge tray together. Having scolded him once for using tomato sauce from a jar, he now makes a fantastic sugo.

Frank wanted to introduce me to his friend Anna. He was so obviously enthralled by this most talented cook from Milan whose classes he had taken to improve his culinary prowess. “You’ll love her, I know”. He wasn’t wrong. We clicked immediately. Vivacious, funny, opinionated, passionate, beautiful Anna then became my friend too and over the years, after she had bought her little piece of paradise in Sicily, we mused about me visiting, but somehow it only happened recently.

Naturally, when I arrived in September 2021, I also fell heavily for this magical place she and Bill have chosen and worked so hard to make perfect. But it’s not only the house, which is a dream, but the entire area; the beach, the markets, the food, the people. There was, unsurprisingly, no issue with us spending a week in each other’s company. We talked about life and Italy and, of course, food. We swam together, shopped, we walked (with her sweet dog, Paco) we cooked (just a little) and before I knew it, it was time to leave.

Last year Anna reminded me that ‘my’ bedroom would be ready for another little sojourn, so who was I to argue? A couple of weeks before I was due to arrive I had this persistent sore throat, which got worse and worse, and by the time I had plonked my suitcase in the room with a view, my tonsils were so inflamed that I was finding several things uncomfortable to eat. This did not bode well for a week in such gastronomic surroundings. Luckily, the traditional lemon or pistachio granita for breakfast, was most soothing although the lemon stung a little. I even tried gargling with sea water as we swam most days, but oddly enough gulps of the Mediterranean were not going to cure a cancerous tumour, but I hadn’t discovered that piece of news by then. Anna insisted I return to the doctor once home.

The rest as they say is history. But what an incredibly short historical tale. Within one year, to be referred, diagnosed, treated and to be told “for now there is no evidence of disease”. Incredible. The NHS has many critics and yes, there are holes and faults, but I have only praise for how I have been dealt with in these past few months. On top of which it hasn’t cost me a single penny.

So here I am again, back in this glorious place, looking slightly different with what I call my new ‘chemo hair’. “Julie, you must book immediately when you are told you can travel”. Oh ok Anna, if you insist. And what a tonic it has been already. Toes in sand on the beach and cold dips in the pool. A visit to the market where I wanted to buy and cook with every ingredient and where the vendor says “tasting is free Signora” - definitely not used to that. Drives to hilltop villages with spectacular views, drinking bitters in a bar which is straight out of a movie. Brioche and granita, croissants filled with jam, peaches sweeter and juicier than would seem possible.

I am only half way through this recuperating trip and already feel so rested and joyful. Tonight we are off to a restaurant run by young siblings, with a zest for life and good food and it’s porcini season. I cannot wait and could not be more grateful for this wonderful friendship and the generosity offered to me.

P.s As an addendum I forgot one teeny tiny (literally) negative and that is the dastardly mosquitoes here. Not gangly critters like I am used to, but the smallest little black fighter bombers who swoop in and almost have the audacity to loiter for a while whilst sucking on your sweet blood and leaving the itch from hell behind.

I suppose it’s a small price to pay for a slice of heaven.