Under the Sicilian Sun

Roaming through street markets and country vineyards, a writer is smitten by the sweet, salty and greasy headiness of Sicily’s tastes

- VARUD GUPTA

We first got acquainted as grease dribbled down my chin. My first bite of the island of Sicily was a whopping pani câ meusa, a street food go-to in the region. I tucked into that harmonious smattering of veal offal bits braised in lard, salted, and then sandwiched between two sesame-topped buns. After a lengthy walk through the stone streets, exploring chapels, churches, plazas, and palaces across Palermo, Sicily’s capital, the sandwich was a perfect fuel.

It also had the right mix of oily guilt to inspire me to continue walking for the day in hope of making a dent into those newly acquired calories.

A goal short-lived as I ventured deeper into the market of Vucciria, the arguable pulse of this city. A symphony of sights and smells beckoned me at every turn of the narrow lanes. Fresh produce lined crates as I lingered on lime green gourds stretching taller than me. The air thick with briny salted capers and musk from fennel and saffron paired well with the crackling of arancini, yet another Sicilian fried delicacy of rice balls stuffed with meat stewed in tomato sauce.