Palermo at Easter

A view looking over the bay of Palermo from Monte Pellegrino

I have taken a break from digging in the allotment, and office work, to visit friends in Palermo. It is almost a year since I was last here and I have been taking the opportunity to visit some of my favourite; the church of San Cataldo, the cathedral at Monreale and the wonderful bread from a small wood fired bakery there, and the lively street markets of Palermo. The weather is warm and the season's fruit and vegetable production is already well underway. Different varieties of artichokes, vast mounds of fennel, the first strawberries and citrus are sold on overloaded stalls or are being sold directly from the backs of piaggio or aprilia trucks. The fish markets are notable principally for the absence of the big tuna fish. They have not arrived yet, but their arrival is imminent because boxes of beautiful sardine are plentiful. The mackerel and swordfish, which also feed on the sardine are to be found in the market. Meanwhile, messages from Dublin keep me advised of the unseasonably inclement and cold weather conditions taking hold of Ireland.

Under Roger II, Palermo was the most important port and enlightened Court in the Mediterranean, and a shining light in the Medieval age. Sicily today is rudderless and Palermo has changed in the eleven moonths since I left. Recent elections promise little or no change because the same personnel are in charge of the continued slide into the abyss. The people are unhappy in a place where poverty is no stranger. Sicily has a reported unemployment of 30%, but as with everything official here the official figures mask a critical situation in order to present a more acceptable state of affairs than the actual reality. Heavily policed protests on the streets are the visible resistance to the loss of work and pending closure of local factories. There would appear to be little hope, and even less of a future here for most people.  There is however some moderately good news in the papers this week. La Republicca in Palermo reports a hoard of silver removed from the site of Morgantina, (near Aidone in the province of Enna) during the early 1980s is to be returned to Sicily. This hoard of Hellenistic silver is currently on display in Rome having been on display and in the possession of the Metropolitan Museum, New York.

 The atmospheric and undecorated interior of the mid 12th Century Byzantine inspired church of San Cataldo, Palermo.

To escape the chaos and populace of Palermo we decided to take the train to Cefalu. The train's destination was Messina, and as such it served every village and town along the way. Consequently, the two carriages which made up our train were full of people with luggage and crates of every size and shape. We slowly exited the predictable and decaying monotonous structures of the suburbs and when the train tracks retreated from the coast our journey took us through field after field of artichokes, and brightly coloured orange groves. While most people may have had a purpose for their trip, one poorly attired old man, with a northern European appearance, broke the silence and attempted to engage in conversation with his fashionable female Sicilian neighbour. His angular and broad face with narrowed eyes had focused upon a book she had in her hand. He inquired from her what she was reading. She initially attempted to ignore him, and resisted the conversation bringing her patent leather bag closer to her chest and lowering her head a little, but their proximity and his persistence, required her to communicate, and she did so reluctantly.

"Oscar Wilde" she said, but without giving the title, or softening her withdrawn expression. The man's eyes were suddenly alight and he smiled broadly as he began to speak to her warmly and with great interest in Oscar Wilde, and his own personal favourite work, "Salome". Unfortunately the well dressed and elegant lady had never heard of "Salome", and it was only through the gesturing of his hand to his neck and referencing San Giovanni this large and energetic old man managed to relate the background of the story of "Salome".

I could see the disappointment come upon him as she clearly did not know much about Oscar Wilde or "Salome", and once again he adopted a vacant and distant expression. After a few minutes he began checking through his meager belongings in search of something, and eventually drew out a leaflet on Oscar Wilde. She again resisted his overtures but relinquished once again and in doing so he proudly presented her with his valued leaflet. She looked at it, and accepting it she then read it with great interest. She smiled looking at him for the first time and inquired if she could keep the leaflet and the old man gestured to her generously and smiled. Oscar Wilde may have mused on such an encounter and possibly remarked: " There are two types of people that are really fascinating: people who know absolutely everything, and people who know absolutely nothing."

The mid 12th Century Byzantine mosaics at Cefalu commissioned by Roger II

Cefalu is a small coastal town with a little harbour and long beach which stretches practically to the next headland. There is something quite special about this place; the intensity of the suns light is reflected from the azure blue sea onto the patchwork of buildings that line promontory and the sandy shore next to the harbour. We had a lunch which consisted of an octopus salad and grilled swordfish before visiting the Norman cathedral or duomo. The entire cathedral is not decorated with Byzantine mosaic like the one at Monreale. Instead the golden mosaics are confined to the apsidal end of the church and in the vaulting above the altar.

Sprightly mountain goats made their way about the mountain more naturally than the day trippers

To the west of Cefalu there is a mountain which overlooks the quaint terracotta roofs of the town. Getting to the top requires some effort, and we were justly rewarded with not only vast panoramic views to the west along the coast, and to the north towards Ustica and the Lipari islands, but also the cooling breeze that passed over the mountain itself. 

Throughout the Mediterranean the week before Easter, or Settimana Santa, is celebrated with processions along the streets of parishes, and quarters of most cities. For many years I spent Easter in Palma, but this year in Palermo I had an opportunity to witness the Sicilian celebration of Holy Week, and in particular the processions which took place in the city on Good Friday. Where the Spanish are robed in full gowns with pointed hats and veils, the Sicilians carried statues of the dead Jesus and Virgin Mary on large biers wearing impeccably tailoured black suits, with white shirts and black ties. Many of the concelebrants completed their ensemble with gold embroidered velvet gillet smocks over their well tailoured suits. Preceding the biers was an escort of Roman soldiers and women holding the instruments of passion. Shrill brass bands brought up the rear, with a wind section principally made up of clarinets, and a percussion section of deep drums and cymbals. They played somber, but uniquely Sicilian (to my limited ear), religious marching compositions.

 A view of the congregation in front of Chiesa di Santa Caterina

We followed one procession for almost an hour as it slowly made its way from Corso Vittorio Emanuele to Piazza Bellini. The procession moved very slowly as the biers were raised and moved along for only a few meters before being lowered again. A man with a large black castanet signaled the raising and lowering of the biers. The well dressed elder gentlemen of the group marshaled the procession from the front and the rear. While the procession is as a religious one, these individuals take a notable and public role. The procession halted at Piazza Bellini and a female soprano sang two hymns from the steps of Chiesa di Santa Caterina which overlooked the gathering congregation. It must be said that she did so without being accompanied by the brass band who were improving as they went along. We parted company with the procession as it left Piazza Bellini and meandered its way deeper into the narrow streets of the city.

We have eaten on board in the port of Palermo most days enjoying the wonderfully fresh vegetables and fish which are available in the market. Moritz and Caryn have extended their Italian repetoire by including simple dishes such as spagetti a la norma and spagetti a la Romana. They have also managed to obtain recipes from friends. One in particular, Mama Paladino, has been a positive influence in the development of the menu of dishes served on board, offering invaluable instruction and guidence while sharing her vast knowledge. I will close out my adventure through Palermo's Holy Week with her very own recipe for Lasagne.

Quantities are not necessarily exactly defined in this oral tradition of passing on recipes. The following recipe may require some element of code breaking, deciphering and tinkering to achieve her high standards, however she regulates her own true D.O.P. Lasagne being composed of 2 or 3 onions finely chopped; 2 big carrots chopped, and two handfuls of celery finely chopped. 4 tablespoons of tomato paste (estratto di pomodori) and a tin of tomato concentrate (with no liquid). The other principal ingredients are 1 kg minced meat, olive oil, salt, pepper and sugar.Cook the onion, celery and carrots in the olive oil before adding the meat. While the meat is cooking dissolve the tomato paste in a little water and add this along with the tomato concetrate and 750mls of water to the pot with the meat and cooked vegetables. At this point you should add 2 tablespoons of sugar together with your salt and pepper and leave the lot to cook for an hour.

The bechemel sauce used by Mama Paladino is made up of 1 liter of milk, 1 cup of flour, salt and 4 tablespoons of butter. It must be pointed out that she adds grated parmasan cheese to her sauce; the exact quantity of which is a secret but linked to the consistency I believe.

Line a bowl with lasagne pasta before adding a thin layer of meat sauce. Then sprinkle with a layer of parmasan cheese before putting on another layer of lasagne pasta. Keep on repeating the process ending with meat sauce on top which should be covered with a bechemel sauce followed by another layer of pasta lasagne. This final layer of pasta is covered with bechemel sauce, a generous amount of grated parmasan cheese and dotted with knobs of butter. Once construction has been completed, it can be cooked for 30 minutes at 200C. Ciao Regazzi!

A box of octopus being sold at a street stall in Mondello

A short trip to Lyon - Gallia Lugdunensis 1

A view across the Rhone towards Notre Dame de Fourviere

It was 20 years since I had been to Lyon and back then I did not stop for too long before moving on to my ultimate destination to the southeast of Lyon. For this trip, at the end of January, I decided to read up on Lyon to identify a few sights I would like to visit and add to my basic knowledge of the city, and its culture. I decided to refer to Elizabeth David's book on Provincial French Cooking, but I was surprised at her comments. She was of the opinion that one must be a Lyonnais to properly appreciate the local cooking and then proceeded to moan in an unappreciative manner about the anti climax that she experienced from the fountainhead of French cuisine. I suppose I should not be surprised to read this from somebody who ignored the Jura and Franche Comte in the same publication, but it still a good book despite these shortcomings. To assist me on my journey, I decided to travel with three books The cuisine of the Rose by Mireille Johnston, The White Cities by Joseph Roth, and Roman Gaul and Germany by Anthony King.

 

Lyon is not a monumental and decadent city in the mould of Paris. This ancient city has grown up and expanded at the confluence of two of France's most important waterways; the Rhone and the Saone. The Roman colony of Lugdunum was founded in 43 B.C by Lucius Munatius Plancus, a leading officer serving under Julius Caesar during his campaigns and battles to subdue the Gallic tribes. The site chosen by this officer, who is also reputed to have founded Augusta Raurica in 44 B.C. not far from Basel, was previously a Gallic hill fort occupied by the Segusiani, and today this vantage point towers over Lyon and is known as the Fourviere hill. Its significant position on the Rhone and Saone lended this site to being used as an administrative centre with easy and speedy access north and south on the navigable river systems which passed through the city. Over the next three hundred years this settlement would be favoured by a number of Emperors and Lugdunum flourished as a result. Features of this development still visible today are the numerous aqueducts, theatre, odeon and the amphitheatre.

A view looking south across the Roman theatre, Fourviere, Lyon

The steep featured flanks of the Fourviere descend to the Rhone and a number of bridges and passerelles make communication with Presqu'ile quite easy. As the name suggests, Presqu'ile is not quite an island but a strip of land that has been cut and narrows to a point where it finally reaches the confluence of the Rhone and Saone.

Roman Gaul is proving to be a tourist attraction for the modern town of Lyon and the Roman theatre on the Fourviere hill is the most visible representation of this period of the city's history. When the Roman builders arrived on site in or about 15 B.C. to build the first theatre structure in Gaul, they must have welcomed the prospect of building a theatre structure on this site because the steep hillsides in the vicinity could be easily employed in the construction of a theatre. While the slopes would minimise the need for a freestanding outer wall and a complicated series of vaults, arches and supports there are visible remains of radial substructures supporting the cavea. The theatre measures 108 meters in diameter which makes it a little larger than those built at Arles (Arelate) and Orange (Arausio). The remains of three cavea are visible, the media cavea and summa cavea are only to be identified by the series of vaults and hemispherical wall structures that would have supported them, and the remains of the ruined vomitoria quite immense. The date of the initial construction of this theatre places it firmly within the reign of the Emperor Augustus and there is evidence to suggest it was restored and extended during the reign of Hadrian, and it is suggested the scaena frons was added during this period.

A view looking west towards the cavea of the Roman theatre, Fourviere, Lyon

Although it faces east and overlooks most of the city of Lyon today, the scaena frons structure situated in front of the seating would originally have been approximately 30 meters high, and thus the great panoramic view to be seen today over Lyon would have been not a particular feature of this theatre. The structure would have been ornately decorated and some elegantly carved column bases are to be found on site today.  The hillside has a number of other interesting structures, and just to the south can be found the Roman odeon which is thought to have been constructed during the 2nd Century A.D. This is 73 meters in diameter and also backs onto the hillside for support and its cavea are surrounded by an immense boundary or outer wall, which is quite distinctive and sets it apart from its neighbour the theatre. The orchestra measures 21 meters in diameter and is decorated in opus sectile with porphyry and other exotic stones and marbles from the distant far flung corners of the Roman Empire.

A column base from the Roman theatre site

To the north of the theatre and also nestled into the hillside is the musee de la civilisation gallo-romaine the exhibition spaces of which are sunk into the hillside. It houses an important collection of sarcophagi, inscriptions, decorative mosaics and other materials found in excavations from the area. The mosaic of the circus race is quite well preserved and evidence of the fact that one of the four circus tracks to be found in the Gallic provinces was located not too far from the Fourviere hill, and in close proximity to the Gier Aqueduct. The aqueduct may have been the source of the water used in the fountains along the spina depicted in the mosaic.

Detail of the Circus Mosaic, Musee de la Civilisation Gallo-Romaine, Lyon

The remains of the amphitheatre are to be found to the north west of Place des Terreaux. Leaving this grand square, travelling north, and proceeding towards the district of La Croix Rousse, it was not long before I was walking up a steep hill into which the amphitheatre was built in circa 19 A.D. This is another example of the Roman engineers and builders exploitation of the terrain to construct and support their structures.

 The remains of the amphitheatre, La Croix Rousse, Lyon

The amphitheatre was excavated and investigated in circa 1818, and the quartier was developed thereafter. The remains, which are now incorporated into a garden, are presently covered by roads, modern buildings and indeed cut in half by a tunnel built to alleviate the flow of traffic leading up to La Croix Rousse. The size of the amphitheatre is debatable but is clear that it was improved and extended through the centuries and must have been an impressive sight. Some commentators are of the opinion the structure was smaller than those at Arles and Nimes. However my impression is that, in its most developed state the amphitheatre in Lugdunum would have been as significant as the amphitheatres built at Arles and Nimes. The principal difference in Lugdunum, is that the amphitheatre was both reliant upon and contained by terrain it was built into.

An important inscription was found in 1957 yielded evidence for not only the build date but the people who financed its construction; the inscription pays testament and records the fact that a Gallo-Roman family from Saintes (Santons), most likely seeking to underline its loyalty to Rome and the Emperor, constructed the amphitheatre at their own expense. It must be noted that there is also a magnificent amphitheatre to be found not far form the centre of Saintes.
 

 An aerial view of the amphitheatre using Google Earth

Having left Corinne at the ugly Gare SNCF Perrache, (she was going home for the day), I struck out for La Croix Rousse on foot. After viewing the amphitheatre, I descended through the town peering in through the windows of various boulangeries as I went. This city has a number of sweets and delicacies which were invented here, and can only be found elsewhere in specialist shops. The lush red pralines, crystalline crusty coated almonds, appear in most windows in one guise or another; dotted in various types of sweetened bread or tart pralinee or sables pralinees. The choclatier Voisin has a number of stores around the city, and they are responsible for the famous coussin de Lyon; a sugared elegant green marzipan filled with rich chocolate grenache in the shape of a cushion.

I crossed the city towards Fourviere and climbed the steep hill, absolutely breathless and weak by the time I found the theatre in bright winter sunshine. The day was bitterly cold and nobody was there. After spending half an hour wandering around looking for the remains of the aqueducts, and various mausoleums, I was quite conscious of the fact that the bells had stopped chiming in the nearby churches, and lunch would be now available. Wandering back through the streets of St Just towards Vieux Lyon, I eventually arrived at the point where I had commenced my ascent of the Fourviere hill at the top of Rue du Boeuf.

The path of least resistance led me down the narrow cobbled street to a restaurant on Rue du Boeuf called Les Adrets. Being both hungry and thirsty, I entered a long narrow dining room paved with tiles with strained and heavily deflected ,wooden beams overhead. It was full but a space at a table was found and I ordered terrine de gibier to be followed by tete de veau along with a refreshing pot of cote du rhone. Despite being obviously foreign, my choises engendered me to those sitting beside me, and they inquired about my little adventure and what I places I had visited and offered advice on what I should see next.

In the restaurants of Lyon you frequently end up wondering if there is anything that you would like to eat on the menu. You need to be adventurous. The menus can be viewed with some intrepidation if you are anxious about ordering various types of tripe, offal or combinations of both. My tete de veau probably shortened my life by two weeks, but it was unctuous and bitter and satisfying; the mellow sweet flavour of the gelatinous fat was cut by a parsley vinaigrette dressing. This dish would be relished and devoured, without a second thought, by a boatman who had been working his vessel up the Rhone, from perhaps Valence, for the previous 20 hours, against a strong current and a bitterly cold mistral wind. Arriving at the quays in Lyon, with his hands paralysed by the cold wind, this dish would have revived such a man. My meal was finished with a fantastically rich quenelle of chocolate mousse and a coffee, and the knowledge that I would be sentenced to at least three months hard labour for eating everything that put in front of me on this trip.

Opus reticulatum and opus mixtum still visible on a support of the Gier Aqueduct, Lyon

As Lugdunum thrived in the 1st Century A.D. the requirement to augment the water supply became a necessity and it was decided that four aqueducts would be built to attend to this need. The longest of the aquaeducts is 86 kilometres in lenght using the river Gier as its source. Evidence from inscriptions and archaeology has not been of great assistance in the dating of this aqueduct. Some archaeology suggests it could have been constructed during the reign of Augustus but it is more likely that it was operational under the reign of Claudius. Inscriptions found at Chagnon and St Joseph date to the reign of Hadrian and introduce a ban on ploughing and sewing in the vicinity of the aqueduct.

I have already refered tothe lenghty pondering I experienced reading a number of Lyonnais restaurant menus, and my chosen reading prior to the trip had not fully prepared me for this very distinctive cuisine. The books probably were too heavily influenced by Dijon and the Bourgogne and neglected the indigenous fare of the Lyonnais. Over the five days of thisparticular visit I have discovered the Bouchon, which is a type of Lyonnais restaurant serving earthy, homely food, but typically Lyonnais using just about every edible part of a pig, cow, chicken or available fish; lentils, onions and macaroni are a feature of the Lyonnais cuisine.

The first Bouchon we dined in was La Meuniere. It was one the most enjoyable meals I have ever had. Most of the prepared food was laid out on a bench in the middle of the very dated and somehow complimentary dining room. It appeared not to have been decorated since the 50s or 60s and was somewhat spartan in appearance, however posters celebrating Beaujolais wine served as a strong suggestion as to what you should be ordering with your meal. The staff engaged with you in a very familiar way, and some diners received a reproach for failing to clear their plates. While I had a terrine to start, I decided to have poulet fermier a la vinaigre for my main course. I did not expect this dish to be as agreeable as it was. It was very good. Thereafter, I received slap on the hand when I thought the canut, a soft cream cheese with herbs and garlic, was my cheese course of preference. Instead I was directed to two large wooden boards full of locally produced cheeses.

The next Bouchon, was the similarly celebrated Le Garet. The menu of the day was noteworthy because it sums up for me what Lyonnais cuisine is all about; Salade de dent lion aux oreilles de cochon (a salad of dandilions with pigs ears); Omlette a la truffe Francaise; Ris de veau a la creme et champignons. I began my meal with an offering of five bowls from the kitchen containing, Lentil salad, mousseau (pickled face of cow thinly sliced), pied de veau, saucisson de veau et cochon, and tripe; collectively known as salad de cochonailles. A pot of Crozes Hermitage worked very well with this selection and the following plate of le tablier du sapeur, which was a section of marinated and fried tripe. The dessert was a homemade blackcurrant ice cream, barely sweetened, which was served with a bottle of vieux marc to use as you pleased, and I did!

 Some of the creations of the Patissier and choclatier Richard Seve

Food forms a very important part of Lyonnais living and they are proud of their traditional servings and just as proud of their influences on the new modern cuisine developing in France today. It is not based upon fusion or any passing weakness for a modish taste but merely a celebration and presentation of French food and its industry at its very best. The master boulangers, patissiers and affineurs that base themselves in Les Halles Paul Bocuse are representative of this ideal. They are some the best boulangers and patissiers in France and strive to produce the best quality food to a very high standard. You rarely witness crowds of people surrounding a butcher stall focusing on a butcher dressing a rack of lamb but this occurs most days at les Halles Paul Bocuse.

Street markets are also a feature of Lyon life, as they are of most French villages, towns and cities. Local producers sell their fresh vegetables and fruit and anything else they think the pubic will purchase. I spotted one vendor selling walnuts, walnut spreads, and huile de noix; the oil produced from the pressing of the walnuts. They also sold the tourteaux de noix, which is the dried remains of the pressed walnuts. It can be used much in much the same way as chestnut flour to flavour flour in making biscuits or in general baking.

My personal preference leans towards the everyday and traditional food of the bouchon which preserves the old dishes in an unglamorous and less ostentatious way. This food is generally consumed with the three princes of Lyon; Beaujolais, Cotes du Rhone, or Crozes Hermitage and after a few days my fear and intrepidation has turned, with a little understanding, into a sense of surprise at every menu. This understanding will no doubt encourage me to return and continue my exploration of the Gallo Roman ruins.

French Christmas Adventure 2

This post is a little late going up but it is still worth looking back over good times. One of the great tasks we have when going back to France is "casser les noix" or breaking the nuts! These walnuts have been dried and stored since they were carefully harvested in mid september. They taste stunning and there is no comparison to those you might buy bagged in the shops; they are full of flavour and rich in their natural oil. Afterwards the brittle shells are used to light the fire in the morning and we often relax with a cup of coffee in hand watching the shells glowing red.

The marche in Besancon was a hive of activity throughout Christmas. All the butchers were busy displaying inticate pretty joints of meat, and many different types of specially raised foul from Bresse and elsewhere could be purchased. The rest of the stalls had magnificent displays of fresh fruit and vegtables. Winter reveals the wealth of smoked meats available in the this region which are particularly renknowned. I have been told that in Roman times the smoked ham was a prized export and I have no reason to doubt this. During Winter the region of the Haut Doubs could become isolated and its inhabitants cut off due to long periods of snowfall. In order to surviive it was necessary to prepare food and preserve as much as possible of it. The people were required to be self sufficient to survive on their communal stocks and stores in their large characteristic farmhouses, which would also be employed in the sheltering of the cattle and their feed as well. The typical farmhouse would have a large chimney indicating a smoking room and attached to a wall of most houses would be a hemisperical wood fired oven.

Le Reveillon was a magnificent marathon of a feast commencing with the extra special marinated foie gras of Jeannine Marie Reine Delacroix, followed by the prawns and monkfish a la bourgogne. After an interlude, when Pere Noel made an appearance to deliver gifts, the meal recommenced with Jeannine's slow roasted leg of lamb. In the south of France it is customary to have thirteen deserts, a task which I was thankfully spared. Instead, a selection of homemade berry sorbets and the buche du noel were served following the selection of locally produced cheeses.

Christmas day arrived and the snow had by now melted and the river Doubs had begun to rise, flooding the low lying fields that borded the river. Another marathon meal was planned, and I contributed a tart au citron and a tart aux pommes to the menu. The new taste for small courses served in verrines or small glasses, was much in evidence as a succession of courses were served during the afternoon prior to the principal dishes of snails which were followed by magret de canard served with a pumpkin gratinee and traditional sweet chestnuts.

After Christmas we planned a day trip north towards the Vosges Mountians and Alsace. The Irish have a long history in this part of France dating back many centuries; St Columban arrived in the vacintiy of the Vosges mountains now within the departments of Haute Soane and Alsace in about 587. He founded a monastary on the site of the then ravaged gallo-roman settlement of Luxonium, the modern town Luxeuil -les- Bains. Excavations had been taking place on the site of the funerary church of Saint Martin for a number of years, but from October and throughout December there were many media announcemnts on television and in the papers relating the recent developments and finds associated with these excavations. The excavations were concluding during January and among some of the most important finds disclosed in the reports were 125 sarcophagi dating to the Merovingian age, and the crypt of Saint Valbert.

Our day trip began early on the 26th December, and we took a train witha destination a little further north of Luxeuil into the Vosges to the city of Colmar in Alsace and the department of Haut Rhin. It was a bright still morning and through the lingering freezing fog we could see the countryside was covered with a mantle of thick coarse frost. The first part of the trip took a course along the banks of the Doubs which in places was still flooded and frozen, and in others where the valley narrowed and the river turned tighly around a succession of bends we saw the waters rise in great acts of rejection to counterflows and currents as the river swelled and flooded unpredictably. Leaving Mulhouse we entered a different landscape; a plain with the Vosges mountains bording the horizon.

Colmar

The foundation of Colmar is recorded to be in the 9th Century, but settlements such as this one often have an earlier origin. The site became one of the most important in the area by the 12th Century.  Today this quaint city is too easily passed and missed on the way to Strasbourg. At school I learned of the constant change of this region's borders; this struggle appears at this remove as a constant series of ceding and annexation of borders. While the ecclesiastical history has made a visible impact on the medeval city the proximity of Germany and its historical influence is also quite visible. On the edge of the medeval city there is a small quarter which has network of canals passing through it, and indeed small streams shaped the contours of some of the streets as they pass through the city. While St Petersburg and Amsterdam may be compared to  Venice, Colmar also shares this elegant quality and atmosphere.

 Church of St Martin built between 1234 and 1365

It was a day of firsts for me as I had decided to add to my Christmas girth by having a choucroutt with it meats for lunch with a local reisling wine. We commenced our meal with a tarte flambee, which was for me a lesser known Alsation staple dish. This is a very thin and crisp dough topped with creme fraiche, onions and lardons and cooked in a very hot wood fired oven. We followed it with my first choucroutt garni. There is no pomp and ceremony afforded to this dish of fermented cabbage and pork, but it worthy of some celbration. It was a considerable feast with various types of pork sausage, poitrine, lard and quenelles de foie perched on and around the mound of pale sweet cabbage. I failed to clear my plate, which is a statement in itself, but was sufficiently fortified to walk around the pretty streets of Colmar for the afternoon.

This unusual photograph I have included because I have come to associate a number of regions with their distinctive and indigenous local stone; locally quarried stone used in the edifaces and walls of many structures throughout a town gives a city a certain individual character. In Besancon there is the striking and austere grey and blue limestone, but a little further north I was greeted by the soft and warm combination of yelllow and red sandstones. This example comes from the side wall of the Unterlinden Dominican Convent which dates to the 13th Century. It is now known as the Unterlinden Museum housing primarily a religious collection and the Isenheim alterpiece, but there is also an archaeological collection with objects from the La Tene, Gallo-Roman, and Merovingian periods.

At Christmas time in Alsace many cities have special markets in the town's center and Colmar's Christmas market is quite exceptional. The curved and twisted short streets, and narrow or small squares of this medeval city were filled with huts selling everyting from artisanal bakers to vendors of vin chaud. The streets were filled with people wandering about gazing into these huts and musing over their wares. We purchased another Alsation favourite to nibble on the way home on the train: Kugelhopf is akin to an upside-down  brioche, being cooked in a barley twist mould containing dried fruit and dotted with sugar. The flavours and sights of Alsace and Colmar had escaped my attention previously, but it is worthy of severable visits and is again evidence of the great regional diversity of tradition, food and wine in France.

Another weekend trip to France

Last weekend was a long holiday weekend in Ireland and I flew to France to meet Corinne. I did this reluctantly because I was going to miss my annual pilgrimage to the the Pumpkin Festival in Virginia, County Cavan. With tears still in my eyes, I gathered the courage and resolve to ascend the stairs and boarded the plane exposing my eyes to the acidic yellow and blue interior.

Landing somewhere in the north of France, I quickly made my way to Paris on that dark wet morning. The city was robed in a chic damp and misty fog (not to be associated with the drenching a Celtic mist might provide). Once I got my bearings, I made my way to Rue deTermes and the Marche du Termes, awaiting the surprise of what seasonal offerings would be available for purchase in that market. Autumn was in full flight at the market, and my first sight of things to come as I turned the corner were bunches of deep red, and almost black skinned, muscat grapes side by side with their pale opalescent cousins the chasselas.

A selection of meaty ceps

The true motif of October in Europe is the cep mushroom. Plastic imitations sit in most windows from department stores to hairdressers and chemists. The muscular cep mushrooms (boletus edulis) were displayed at a number of stalls. Many of their deep earthy brown caps still had leaves and twigs attached from the forest floor where they were plucked. A number of them were sliced revealing their perfect white flesh and soft golden tubular gills. There were not many for sale and only a few stalls had a scattering of them. The unseasonal warm and dry weather may not have played its part and with frosts not too distant, the season may be a short one.

A table of vibrant girolles

Perfect cauliflowers from Marche de Termes

Morelles and Ceps

The experience was not over and the symphony had only just begun; the mushroom feast continued and a table at the top of the street had a large spread of bright yellow girolles. Small piles of fresh morelles were gathered together in an ostentatious display of luxurious seasonal wealth. On other stalls the hardy and tasty greens and seasonal vegtables were offered for sale.

Sensational scallops

The fish sellers' stalls were equally exuberant with large platters of shelled scallops neatly displayed with their crescents of orange coral adding a vibrant colourful life to the sight. Troughs, basins and indeed baths containing arrangments of large majestic ochre orange and white ridged scallop shells. Great piles of crevettes grises, langoustines of every possible size and sea urchins dominated the displays but what really caught my eye were the very large and very fresh turbot and bass.

Maison Pou

Time was not on my side, and I quickly made my way to Maison Pou to gaze in the windows at what was on offer. The prepared meals always look wonderful and this day featured cailles en jellee (quails in jelly), and poulet en gellee (oddly enough chicken in jelly), artichauts norvegen (Norwegian artichokes), Bavarois de Homard and Saumon farcie among other delightful delicacies.

Detail of a decorated cake for Maison Pou

Meanwhile in the middle of Conor's great escape, Corinne was texting the times of the trains to Besancon. The information soon changed character informing me that tickets for trains were being sold out quite quickly as it was a holiday weekend in France. I made my way to Gare de Lyon with the intention of purchasing a ticket and joining the rush for the East. Having successfully achieved this task, and equally happy that I was not going to walk to Franche Comte, I set out to treat myself to lunch. I had three and half hours to fill so I decided to go across town to the 14th arrondissement to Le Zeyer. I had missed lunch everyday the preceding week and was desperate to redress the balance looking forward to a few hours of dismantling crabs, other crustaceans and a selection of the best oysters France had to offer.

It was two years since I had visited Le Zeyer, and it was all that I remembered it to be. The lush warm decadent art deco interior echoed the weath and style of another era; surfaces veneered with burr walnut, lines of red velvet coated pews topped with polished gleaming brass rails, together with bright lanterns and an abstract art deco leaded glass ceiling contributed to a unique experience of colour and texture. I was always assured the shellfish at Le Zeyer was of a really high standard; I was not disappointed. Three hours was my target to complete the sizeable task of getting to grips with the choix de l'ecaille (or sea food mountain) which I had ordered. As I remained undecided over my choise of wine, I cast my eye about the menu and thoughts wandered to a group of special friends when I spotted a rose wine from Ramatuelle on the south coast of France. For a number of years we had raced a yacht at Les Voiles de St. Tropez together. When the racing was cancelled or postponed due to a warning of a mistral hurtling through the Gulf du Lyons, we would venture out of St Tropez or Grimaud and go to the hilltop village of Ramatuelle in order to pay homage to a great producer of rose wine and typically some fine stuffed ravioli and deep fried courgette flowers.

My three hours passed very quickly dissecting and dismantling the crustaceans, shaking a variety of oysters and other shellfish from their shells, and before long I was on the 15 58 TGV from Gare de Lyon to Besancon. I found Franche Comte as ever singular and different, separate and distinct is nearly every way. From the rich delicate flavours of the mont d'or and comte cheese to the strongly flavoured saucise de morteau, jambon fumee and the chardonnay and savagnin wines of the region. Burgundy which is separated from the Jura and Franche Comte region by the Soane in many places is almost an opposite and very French. My time here was short and I savoured every minute but it was not long before we had to return to Dublin. Incidentally, before I left I managed to see a basket of pumpkins and gourds the like of which I probably would not have seen in Virginia, County Cavan.

A basket of mutant deformed gourds and pumpkins from the market in Beasnacon

Sailing to Byzantium - 8

Palermo is truly an ancient city; it is probably one of the oldest cities in the Mediterranean with Phoenician origins and succession of occupations by the Greeks, Roman and Byzantine empires, Arabs, Normans, followed by the regal houses of Anjou and Aragon, before being consumed by the reunification of Italy. By the 13^th century Palermo was one of the most important European ports for reasons that are only too recognisable for us. When a storm was building you needed the refuge of a safe port, and the sirocco created a need for a safe haven in the vicinity of Palermo, protecting valuable cargos and establishing vital diplomatic and commercial links at the same time; Frederick I declared Sicily to be stupor mundi or wonder of the world.

The city today is cris-crossed by a number of modern long straight vias and corsos which attempt to achieve some form of order. At an artificial centre point created by the grid like vias and corsos is the Quatro Canti separating and dividing the city into four quarters. Either side of the modern and formal arterial routes can be found the ancient warren like network of narrow streets paved with shiny, worn square flagstones, which are lined with ancient dust, rubble and decay, with filth and litter in many places. I am not put off by this because better districts have the same issue with litter, and it only serves to reinforce the grotesque (given its original meaning) and medieval characteristics of the city. If filth, litter and urban decay were to be a wonder of the world Palermo would set the standard. It is said that one of the Canto’s of Dante’s Divine Comedy was based upon the court of Frederick I in Sicily during the 13^th Century, and in many parts of Palermo today Dante would not be taken aback, surprised or shocked by what he might observe in the market places and backstreets.

A scene from la Mercato della Ballaro

The two quarters close to the port and the Mollo Sud, where we are based, have street markets namely the Mercato della Ballaro and Mercato della Zucciria. The former is quite big and winds its way through the Ballaro quarter. It is gloriously dirty with artichoke leaves spread all over the narrow streets. Boxes of fruit and vegetables stacked in the street delineate the pitch of each vendor and these spaces are mirrored overhead by canopies which protect the produce from the midday sun. There appears to be an unbroken tradition and history of street vendors or venditore ambulante adding to the variety of the market scene.

Trays of cooked vegatables being sold by a venditore ambulante

It is a loud, busy and bustling market where extreme poverty puts on a smile and does its daily business supplying the quarter’s inhabitants with some of the best and freshest food that this part of the world has to offer. The people may be poor but they eat like kings and have a diversity and richness of diet that is not only easily affordable but north western Europeans could only aspire to. The produce which is sold is mainly from Sicily but also from other islands such as Pantelleria, which exports its muscat raisins or zibibbo di pantelleria and salted capers among other things.

Sicilian Oranges

Capperi picollo di Pantelleria

There are many street side butchers in the Ballaro market, who proudly carve flesh from carcases and separate offal for presentation on slabs and in bowls before your very eyes. The slaughterhouse and chop shop is effectively part of the street. Some butchers cook the offal, and this like many other cooked vegetables can be purchased from great cauldrons of steely water which sit out in front of the stalls. There is no swift practice here; people do not force you to buy and you must actively get their attention and tell them what you want. Everybody is more than happy to deal with your requests, offering advice as you go with a level of courtesy and individual attention that is hard to find anywhere else; all this in a sometimes intimidating and medieval environment.

Sicilian tomatoes

Butchers from la Mercato della Ballaro

Seasonal foods are sold on a daily basis from early morning till about 8 p.m. The current seasonal treats are the many varieties of artichokes which are available for sale; large, medium and small; purple, green and an attractive combination of colours are all to be found. Small three wheel vans hurtle through the city piled high with bails of artichokes replenishing stalls at street corners, roundabouts and other roadside venues as they navigate their way through the cities streets, beeping their horns and hollering as they go.

Some of the many varieties of artichokes available in the markets

The Mercato della Vucciria has an entirely different feel to it, and it is more compact and a smaller. There are more formal shops in the Vucciria with a great variety of stock collected up into just about every corner, shelf, horizontal or vertical surface available. The street stalls sell mostly vegetables and dry goods, but this market has a small trapezoidal piazza not far from the Via Maqueda and Corso Vittorio Emanuele with a number of fish sellers. A few out of season, and non mainstream, Japanese tourists venture to these parts, clearly identifiable by their nikon machinery attached to their torsos flapping about and captivated by the fish stalls. I can only respect their ability to seek out the freshest of fish; they may be in Catania on Saturday!

A selection of fish for sale in the Mercato della Vucciria

Like the butchers of the Ballaro, the fish sellers display some of the freshest fish I have ever seen out on large tables of ice. Any self respecting fish seller will have a swordfish or spada on the table ready to be sliced into great steaks. Boxes of fresh sardines still sporting an elegant pink hue on the fine scales could not have been out of their saline world for more than a few short hours. Large tuna or tonno are also starting to appear in the market.

A box of the feshest Sardines

There is a long tradition attached to the seasonal fishing of the tuna in Sicily. It is said that the tonno caught here in Sicilian waters is the best available anywhere. This is chiefly due to the blood temperature of the fish by the time it arrives in Sicilian waters on its annual migration from the Atlantic chasing the sardine into the heart of the Mediterranean and Tyrrhenian seas. In times past the tuna would have been penned and netted by an armada of long boats, culminating in la mattanza alla tonnara (the slaughter of the tuna). Todays efficient factory ships do not bode well for the future of the tuna stocks.

Spada

The contrast between the dingy dark backstreets and extraordinary colours of the fresh vegetables and fruit, and meat and fish gives the city an added energy and vibrancy. The urgency with which the three wheeled over laden lorries speed through the streets is a reminder of the scale of the enterprise undertaken by the market sellers to feed this great sprawling city. I am told there are supermarkets here but I have yet to see them.