The day we (almost) made marmalade

     Last week, one of my market purchases was two kilos of tarrochi, the famous Sicilian blood oranges. The tarrochi season is winding down here, and two of my friends thought it might be fun to make marmalade from the sweet, colorful oranges.
     So named for their ruby-streaked flesh, Sicilian blood oranges have protected geographical status in Europe. Much like certain wines, cheeses and other food products, there are strict regulations about the quality and marketing of the oranges. Another interesting piece of information about tarrochi is that they contain the highest concentration of Vitamin C of any orange variety in the world, thought to be because they grow in the fertile soil surrounding our resident volcano, Mt. Etna.
      With my market bag full of two kilos of tarrochi (plus one extra given to me by the vendor with a wink), I headed to my friend Anna's house to make marmalade. When I arrived, she and Allison were preparing the canning jars and debating which recipe we should use. We settled on one, and after donning our aprons, set to work slicing oranges, juicing and zesting lemon and measuring sugar.
      If you have every made any type of jam or preserves, you know it is a time consuming process. As we waited for the fruit to cook down, we kept peeking in the steaming pot. Did the color look right? Would the peel cook down? Was there too much peel? We were concerned about the color. It seemed very pale for the deep reddish-orange we envisioned in our jars. The sugar, which had to be rapidly and constantly stirred, remedied that problem and the batch turned a beautiful amber shade. The smell filling Anna's kitchen was amazing. Sweet, citrusy and fragrant. The peel was cooking down beautifully. We were almost done.
       Then, the unforeseeable happened. As we were continuing to rapidly stir and take the temperature to ensure the marmalade would set properly, we dropped the thermometer into the pot and it's glass case broke. For a few desperate minutes, we sifted and strained through the pot. Then common sense prevailed; there was no way we could be certain we had all of the glass even if we found a bigger piece. Our marmalade was ruined.
         After some moping, and a few furtive tastes that confirmed the warm, orangey deliciousness of our creation, came what I thought was the best part of the afternoon. As we poured the literal fruit of our labors into Anna's garbage, we mutually agreed that even though the marmalade was a bust, we had a pretty marvelous morning of working together and having fun.

 Faces of sadness - Allison (above) holds the broken thermometer and Anna (below) attempts to search for the broken glass. I was too bereft to be captured on film :).

To market, to market

 Sicilian blood oranges

   

     Monday morning usually means a trip to the Catania market. It is a great way to start the week, stocking up on needed produce and cheeses and taking part in the daily bustle of Italian life. I think I enjoy absorbing the atmosphere and its routines just as much as I like having farm fresh foods for our table. Unlike the orderly and immaculate markets I was used to in Salzburg and Nice, the Catania market is bursting with energy and activity: dogs sneak around the butcher stands hoping for some snacks, vendors shout out specials trying to entice the crowd to make a purchase, friends enthusiastically greet each other and stop to chat. It's messy and hectic, but an undeniably real experience of daily Italian life. 

     The entrance to the market is behind a fountain giving an open view of where the River Amenano runs under the city. Behind the fountain, you can descend into the fish market, named by many famous chefs as one of the best in the world, or proceed down several narrow streets of stalls selling meats, cheeses and produce. The meat and fish displays are definitely not for the squeamish. The smells are strong, the meat and seafood is displayed quite graphically and the butchers and fishmongers work right in front of the customers actively preparing their orders.  

     Though I occasionally buy meat (we are spoiled by a local butcher that delivers to our residence complex), my weekly shopping list typically includes fresh ricotta cheese, tomatoes, and whatever other seasonal fruits and vegetables look particularly appetizing that week. Since European measurement is metric, most items are sold by the kilo (roughly two pounds). I quickly learned the term mezzo kilo  (half kilo) since that tends to be just the right amount for our family. After completing my list and tucking all of my finds in my canvas market bag, I usually end my morning with cappuccino and a pastry at a nearby cafe.

         

Fountain at the opening of the Catania fish market
 

The market is a shopping and social center in Catanian life.

Crates of peppers, green onions and lemons in the back of a truck.

Artichokes and fennel - both in season and prominent in Sicilian cuisine.

Men crowded around a table of shrimp.

The market attracts all kinds of shoppers including men in suits, nuns and American housewives :).

Balls and blocks of cheese displayed at my favorite cheese stall.

Man selling onions and garlic gestures to a friend.

A colorful selection

Fish and shrimp on ice.