HAPPY BIRTHDAY LANGSTON HUGHES! Let's have some cinnamon mocha coffee to celebrate!

It's wonderful to participate in Cook the Books once again! For this round, we read "Sustenance and Desire, A Food Lover's Anthology of Sensuality and Humor"  

Chosen for us by Rachel, from the Crispy Cook, the book is edited by Anne Bascove, who goes by the mononym of Bascove, and Bascove also supplied the paintings appearing in the book because after all, she is an artist/illustrator. Have a look:

Still Life with Heirloom Tomatoes, 2003, oil on canvas (Bascove)

Still Life with Melon, 2003, oil on canvas (Bascove)

Paris, 2003, oil on canvas (Bascove)

The anthology is divided into four sections: nourishment, desire, hunger, and sustenance. Bascove chose wonderful pieces of prose and lots of good poetry!  Some of the authors represented are Virginia Woolf, Emily Dickinson, Wislawa Szymborska, Czeslaw Milosz, Marcel Proust, Allen Ginsberg, May Sarton... should I go on? Get the picture? A superb compilation, in a book that should stay on your shelf and be available to frolic with every so often.

  

Langston Hughes, Collection of the Smithsonian National Museum of African American History and Culture.

For my entry, I decided to focus on a poem by Langston Hughes. Not only is it a beautiful poem, but just yesterday, February 1st, was the commemoration of the author's birthday, therefore it seemed very appropriate that I say thank you, Mr Hughes, your poetry has made a difference in our lives and in our culture. The poem is called Harlem Sweeties, and on the Internet, it can be read here.

                   ... All through the spectrum

                   Harlem girls vary—

                   So if you want to know beauty’s

                   Rainbow-sweet thrill,

                   Stroll down luscious,

                   Delicious, fine Sugar Hill.

I was inspired by the poem to make a uniquely flavoured drink: 

Cinnamon Mocha Coffee!

Cinnamon Mocha Coffee contains honey, cinnamon, there is coffee for the most part because it is, after all, a type of coffee drink, there is cocoa also, and a few cloves are thrown into the mix.

All these earthy flavours are in keeping with Hughes' theme, which is that there is an untold and uncounted variety of hues in the integumentary aspects of Harlem Sweeties, and that there is lusciousness in the skin colour of people of colour. Hughes is offering a hymn of praise to African Americans, and by extension to all people who show their courage by embracing difference. Thank you, Langston Hughes, and Happy Birthday!  

Here's the recipe for Cinnamon Mocha Coffee, based on one from Taste of Home magazine:

Ingredients:

1/3 cup ground coffee
3/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 cup milk
2 tablespoon honey
2 tablespoons baking cocoa
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
a few cloves
4 cinnamon sticks

Directions:

• In a coffeemaker basket, combine the coffee and the cinnamon. Prepare four cups of brewed coffee according to the manufacturer's directions.  
• Meanwhile, combine milk, sugar, cocoa, cloves and vanilla in a saucepan. Cook over low heat for about seven minutes, stirring occasionally. 
• Strain the hot milk mixture into four coffee cups, then add the cinnamon-flavoured coffee. Garnish with cinnamon sticks. 

Easy to prepare, a warm drink with a beautiful colour!

drops of honey and sticks of cinnamon, a dusting of cocoa, a sprinkling of cloves

PIZZA QUATTRO STAGIONE for 'A VERY PRIVATE GENTLEMAN"

I thought I knew all there was to know about pizza.  After all, I can make really good pizza, and I have been making it for years. (The secret to good pizza is in the dough.  If you have a good dough, chances are you'll have a good pizza). But, surprise, I found out something new about pizza.  here exists a topping I didn't know of. No, it's not ham and pineapple. It's Quatro stagione, or four seasons pizza.

Marinated artichokes for springtime...

Tomato slices and fresh mozzarella for summer.  Sliced basil goes on after the pizza comes out of the oven.  I enjoyed slicing the basil, it gave off such a wonderful aroma...

Autumn, represented by sauteed mushrooms and onions...

Ham, for winter. Or, if you prefer to have no meat on your pizza, choose olives and rosemary as a winter topping. Perhaps some of those pepperoncini peppers or some capers ...  

Make the pizza.  Dough, sauce, cheese. Visually divide the pizza into four sections, and top each section accordingly.  The toppings can vary, as long as each section they are placed on represents one of the four seasons.

Bake it, and enjoy it.  Whoever thought of the concept of a four seasons pizza is a certified genius as far as I am concerned. Scrumptious. A wonderful excuse for having a multi-topping pizza. Except, this way, the toppings are not piled one on top of the other, which truthfully, I find unappetizing. Here, the toppings are artfully arranged on the pizza, giving it an air of sophistication.   And I like sophistication. That's why I really liked reading the thriller A Very Private Gentleman, (1990), written by Martin Booth. As far as thrillers go, it reeks of sophistication. As do I. 

This is my contribution to Novel Food, the literary-culinary event hosted by Simona from Briciole. Read it, and then cook something that the reading has inspired you to prepare.  For this edition of Novel Food I enjoyed reading A Very Private Gentleman.  

In one of my favourite chapters, the main character takes his paramour to an out of the way restaurant where the two enjoy a bottle of wine and a "pizza quatro stagione." I loved the description of the event so very much that I wanted to be a patron at the very same countryside restaurant, ordering along with the protagonists. 

a VERY private gentleman

This is a thinking person's thriller, with an unforgettable protagonist. He is Signor Farfalla, thus called by the locals of the small town where he lives. He is an artist who paints rare butterflies. Or so he pretends. That's his cover.  In actuality, Signor Farfalla leads a life so secretive that even we, the readers, don't know his real name or nationality. He is well educated though, a man of fine tastes. He knows how to appreciate nature, art, architecture, good food and wine, good music and books, and he loves good company. He always moves from place to place, sometimes because of work, sometimes to evade capture. His real work is done in secret: he is a gunsmith who crafts made-to-order weapons. They carry a very high price tag because they are used for high level assassinations. And Signor Farfalla feels that he has helped to shape history. However, he is getting old and would like to retire. When we meet him, he is promising that he's working on his last commission. He likes the small Italian town where he's taken up residence, and he would like to settle there, in the company of Clara, a young student who moonlights as a prostitute in order to make ends meet. Unfortunately, just as Signor Farfalla makes up his mind to settle down, he becomes aware that someone is after him. And so the cat and mouse game begins... Booth's writing is clear, intelligent, tense and thought provoking. 

A Very Private Gentleman is a first rate psychological thriller, a book that is hard to put down. 

The movie The American (2010), staring and produced by George Clooney, was based on this novel. The script has some significant differences from the novel, but both movie and book are first rate. With the release of the movie, the novel was republished under the same title as the movie. Therefore, a very private gentleman was forced to become an American. I don't think Martin Booth (who died in 2004), would have liked this change; he didn't give his character a nationality, and I enjoyed trying to guess where Signor Farfalla could have come from.  

And yes, I find George Clooney aesthetically pleasing. 

WHEN YOU'RE EATING TO LIVE TRY THE POLENTA: REFLECTIONS ON READING MFK FISHER'S "HOW TO COOK A WOLF"

“By all means marry; if you get a good wife, you'll be happy. If you get a bad one, you'll become a philosopher.” That’s what Socrates said, and it’s well known that he had an unhappy marriage. Therefore, he became a philosopher. I imagine his wife was a horrible cook because soon after Socrates became a philosopher he coined this phrase: “Eat to live, do not live to eat.” I think what Socrates meant was not to be a glutton or engage in debauchery. Keep to the middle of the road, don’t go overboard. 

I like to remember the “eat to live, do not live to eat” quote every time I go to the supermarket. Everything there is strategically arranged to tempt the buyer! That’s what you call marketing (pun intended). Before you know it, you’ve bought a whole host of things that you have no use for. That’s excess, and that's not a good thing. Socrates would be disappointed as would be MFK Fisher; MFK eschewed excess. Of course, when times are hard, excess is difficult. When the "wolf is at the door," meaning when one is faced with difficult times, ingenuity must come into play. 

MFK Fisher’s book “How to Cook a Wolf,” written during World War II, is devoted to giving ideas on how to eat well during hard times. The book's premise is how to master the proverbial wolf rather than let him threaten. Keep calm, be ingenious, and persevere. That's "How to Cook a Wolf!" Clever title, enjoyable book. This was my introduction to MFK Fisher (Thank you, Simona). Fisher was a bohemian, a cook, a gourmet, a journalist and a pioneering food essayist. In her book, she discusses food shortages, rationing and other difficulties faced in the US during the World War II.  

Her observations about food contradicted what was commonly believed at the time, but she was right on target: Eat lots of fresh vegetables she said. Have a nice, big salad. Don't forget about seafood. If you have wilted vegetables, they're perfect for soup. Make sure your eggs are fresh, even if you have to pay a little more. It will be worth it in the end. Make your food stretch by adding rice or potatoes to it. Save on gas: your oven can accommodate more than one dish at a time. Add the dessert in there along with the main course ... Her ideas about fresh food and food economy are conveyed in a clever, appealing manner. One of these days I may have to try baking her tomato soup cake. Tomato soup? In cake? It's been heard of. It was a pretty common Depression-era and wartime addition to spice cake. Tomato soup was the "mystery ingredient" which allowed cooks to economise on the use of oil/butter, milk, eggs, and sugar. MFK doesn't tell us, but tomato soup makes a cake moister and sweeter. Of course, you know ... don't add it when making a genoise ... 

 MFK Fisher's "How to Cook a Wolf" is the entry for COOK THE BOOKS CLUB,  this round hosted by Simona from BRICIOLE.  Read the book, cook what inspires you from the reading, then blog about it.  That's the objective! 

I would not have been able to praise Fisher had I not decided to write what follows, some of my thoughts concerning food shortages in wartime Europe. Once I had those thoughts on paper, I felt a sense of relief and was able to go back and reread "How to Cook a Wolf" with enjoyment. It was Fisher's chapter on how to manage during blackouts that brought back memories of stories heard from relatives concerning how they dealt with blackouts. And with curfews, too. And with fear. During World War II, my family lived in Greece, which was under nazi occupation. Things there were just a tad more serious than in the US (of course, if not for US soldiers, who knows what Europe would look like today). 

In her book, Fisher explained such things as how to cook a tough cut of meat. During the war, my family felt they were rich if they could eat bean soup for dinner. My grandfather was imprisoned and nearly shot because he bought meat from someone who butchered a cow without having gotten permission from the authorities. Needless to say, the man who butchered the cow (his own cow), was shot. Shot dead. Knowing all these stories, plus lots more, I initially reacted to Fisher’s book with commingled feelings: with interest, because this is a charming book, but also with disdain because I knew and sympathised with people who had it a lot worse than Fisher's intended readers. In wartime America, food was plentiful albeit rationed. In Greece, food was a luxury and near starvation was the norm. Tell me MFK, how do you make a nice meal out of just a handful of raisins? I really don't think MFK, knowledgeable as she was, would have had an answer.

But if during World War II my relatives considered beans to be a rich meal, polenta was their staple meal. They would eat polenta nearly every day. My grandfather was the polenta guru of the clan, cooking it over an open fire in the yard, and stirring it all the long time it needed to be stirred. Then he would take it to my grandmother who poured it onto a platter and flavoured it either with petimezi (a syrup made from grapes), or with feta cheese: Polenta made either sweet or savoury. My mother once told me that she loved the sweetened petimezi polenta. I believed her 100 percent because mom was known for her sweet tooth and for the desserts she made! 

Fisher has a very nice recipe for polenta in the chapter "How to Pray for Peace," and she aptly describes the starchy cornmeal concoction that is polenta as "a sturdy... mixture, the kind that has survived centuries of loving obedience from hungry, simple peoples."  
   

Strapatsada

I would like to dedicate this post to the persevering spirit of my relatives and the like-minded spirit of all war-torn families. For this entry of Cook the Books Club, I cooked two dishes that I heard lots about from my mother: Strapatsada, a dish made with tomatoes, eggs and feta cheese, definitely a luxury food during the war. Strapatsada is reminiscent of Fisher's recipe "eggs in purgatory," known across the pond that is the Atlantic Ocean as "uova in Purgatorio." 

I also made polenta, which was my family's wartime staple. After the war, polenta all but disappeared from Greek dinner tables, but strapatsada is still a favourite.

Here is a pertinent war-time story: my cousin Socrates was born during World War II. I am very fond of Socrates, he is a righteous dude. He is named after Socrates, the philosopher. This is how that happened:

Soon after he was born, the yet unnamed baby Socrates was taken to church, ready and willing to be christened. It’s a Greek tradition to name the newborn after his or her grandparents. And there was the problem. The baby's mother wanted her son to have her father’s name, and the baby's father wanted his son to have his father’s name. For days, the back and forth had been: 

"It's going to be Nicholas!"
"No, it's going to be Constantine!"

Husband and wife could not agree (sound familiar)? They arrived at church still arguing about names. Now the godmother of the baby was to be my mother, who at the time was about 12 years old. Godparents in Greece have special powers. They can execute a coup, and give the baby a name of their own choosing. My grandfather saw that the argument between the baby’s parents was not going to be settled anytime soon, so he approached my mother. 

“Tell the priest to name the baby Socrates,” he whispered in her ear. 

As a compromise, grandfather decided to have the baby named after one of the famous ancient Greeks. You know, Socrates, the philosopher who said “eat to live, do not live to eat.” So the ceremony started, and when the priest asked:

“What is this servant of God going to be named?” my mother belted out: 

“Socrates!” 

So Socrates it was, and Socrates it is. After every christening, there always follows a big celebratory dinner. That’s the point of this story: what do you serve when there is nothing much to be had? Vegetables! My grandparents grew tomatoes in their yard. Plus they had some chickens they kept for the eggs, plus they always managed to get feta cheese. (How they got feta cheese during the war is a very long story. I can email you the details). With those ingredients on hand, they made strapatsada. Lots and lots of strapatsada. And the sweet kind of polenta. And a salad too. A really big salad. Plus they had homemade noodles flavored with olive oil and more feta cheese. Then, there was fruit for dessert. My mother always spoke about that dinner. In the midst of deprivation such a feast made a big impression. I think MFK Fisher would have been pleased with the results. 

Thank you for reading my post, but I am not finished. Reader, hang on. I have one more thing to add: 

Socrates, I love you! 

PEPERONATA IN A LE CREUSET POT FOR ALEXANDRA FULLER

A disturbing and darkly humorous memoir of colonial life in Africa, examining the themes of  love, loss, and reconciliation

We first met them in Let’s Not Go to the Dogs Tonight.  Author Alexandra Fuller continues the story of her family in the sequel called Cocktail Hour Under the Tree of Forgetfulness. Both books are my favourites and I recommend both!  

With a narrative that moves skillfully back and forth in time, Fuller introduces us to her ancestors who left Great Britain for Kenya. Her memoir tells of the love her family came to experience for Africa: a love of the wild, a love of adventure, a love of land and nature. Many people tell you that Africa can possess the soul. It must be true, but why?  

When we experience Africa's abundant primordial landscape, the presence of wildlife, and the freedom from conformity that can exist in this beautiful continent, these things strike a fundamental chord within us; they cannot be exiled from memory. Instead, they create a permanent love and longing for Africa. It’s a perilous love because along with beauty a danger abides there. It manifests itself in terms of poverty, war, absence of medical care, needless death. This dangerous love took hold of Fuller’s family. 

The author's mother, Nicola Fuller, and Nicola's pet chimpanzee at home in Kenya

Author Alexandra Fuller

The memoir focuses on Fuller’s parents, concentrating on the girlhood and adult life of her romantic, adventurous, eccentric, probably bipolar, certainly courageous and always loving and entertaining mother, Nicola Fuller. The product of British colonial Africa, Nicola along with her husband Tim, leave Kenya for the West, but cannot become accustomed to it. Before long they return to Africa determined to stay forever.  It is a decision that will cost them dearly. Low in funds, they choose to settle and farm in politically turbulent Rhodesia, where land can be had for less.

This was in the early 1970s, when the brutally oppressive Rhodesian government led by Ian Smith had forced most of the six million black Rhodesians into Tribal Trust Lands, where their actions could be monitored and controlled. Fuller admits that the white colonialists, numbering at about 250,000, did not question the treatment of blacks. They prefered "to believe that theirs was a just life of privilege. Critics accused these whites of belonging to the Mushroom Club: kept in the dark and fed horseshit." 

A guerrilla war broke out, during which white South Africa offered help to Rhodesia through the use of chemical weapons. Rhodesia was eventually turned over to the black majority and was renamed Zimbabwe. The Fullers lost their farm, but more severe in scope was the death of three children and the psychological breakdown of Nicola.  Through it all, however, to quote Nicola Fuller, "it didn’t occur to us to leave … we came to see our lives fraught and exciting, terrible and blessed, wild and ensnaring … (we saw) our lives as Rhodesian, and it’s not easy to leave a life as arduously rich and difficult as all that." So they stayed on, moving to neighbouring countries, trying to find work, looking for a home. Several years later, they settled in Zambia, eventually building a fish and banana farm, finally being able to savour their love of Africa in relative peace. They built their new home close to a tree called "the tree of forgetfulness," which according to legend possesses magical powers: by sitting underneath the tree of forgetfulness all troubles and arguments are resolved. And "Nicola Fuller of Central Africa," as she likes to call herself, believes this "2 million percent." After her daily work tending her fish ponds at the farm, you will find her sitting under the tree of forgetfulness, pouring herself a cocktail. Actually, her husband Tim (who oversees the banana part of the operation), pours the cocktails, Nicola, along with Tim, of course, enjoys. 

The author's mother, Nicola Fuller, likes to cook flavorful stews in her treasured Le Creuset cooking pots. I think she will enjoy my red pepper stew. 

Cocktail Hour Under the Tree of Forgetfulness is an extremely engaging book, one that's difficult to put down. Alexandra Fuller writes with honesty, sensitivity, and where it fits in, with humour. She understands her mother’s viewpoint (which has undergone improvement throughout the years), and she is also clear about the suffering black Africans endured under colonial oppression. One cannot help but be disturbed by the history of colonial Africa, poignantly described here.  However, the book is also populated by a plethora of eccentric characters, be they human, simian, equestrian or canine. They are entertaining and unforgettable. Plus there are those Le Creuset pots. A set of orange Le Creuset pots that move along with Nicola Fuller all the many times she pulls up stakes. Thousands of delicious, flavorful stews were created in them! The pots, over 40 years old now, are displayed in her kitchen, and they still see regular use. (Buy something of quality, and you will have it forever).

Author Alexandra Fuller, now an American citizen residing in Wyoming, writes lovingly both about her family and about Africa. Her prose shines. After all, she is describing her beloved mother and her beloved Africa.  

This is my contribution to Novel Food, the literary/culinary event hosted by Simona from Briciole.  Read it, cook something inspired by it, and then write a post about it.  For this round, I made a lovely pepper stew, a peperonata!

A peperonata in honour of Alexandra Fuller, cooked in a Le Creuset pot! Problem is, my Le Creuset is green and not orange like Nicola's ...  But it's the standby cooking cauldron in my kitchen, therefore I get a pass, right? In it went chopped onions, fresh tomatoes, a sweet potato, some lovely herbs ... A very pleasing and easy to make stew on a hot summer day!

PASTA PUTTANESCA with SHRIMP and FETA

I got the idea to make pasta puttanesca with shrimp and feta cheese when I was reading Andrea Camilleri's novel "The shape of water," featuring the character of Inspector Montalbano. I was reading the book for my participation in Cook The Books Club, and I had to think of something nice to make that reminded me of the book. The shrimp, the briny sauce, and the briny feta cheese bring to mind the seaside where inspector Montalbano likes to stroll. 

This is an enjoyable dish and very easy prepare. I love how Greek and Italian ingredients are combined here: strong Mediterranean roots! This dish depends on freshness, therefore, working quickly when preparing it is a must. I had the idea of garnishing the pasta with some fresh grape tomatoes which are very abundant at the market this time of year. They are imported all the way from Mexico and are very tasty. 

Linus happens to love pasta and today he is waiting patiently for his share.

Ingredients:

olive oil

1/2 pound shrimp, peeled and deveined

1/2 pound linguini

2 teaspoons fresh thyme leaves
1 teaspoon dried oregano

2 tablespoons crumbled feta cheese, plus a little more for garnish. 
two or three sun-dried tomatoes, chopped
3 Roma tomatoes cut into chunks (seeds and skin removed)
some grape tomatoes cut in half, to be used for garnish

4 anchovy fillets

2 tablespoons capers, rinsed

1 teaspoon red pepper seeds, or use more if you prefer

4 cloves of garlic, chopped
10 pitted Kalamata olives, sliced in half

¼ cup fresh Italian parsley, chopped

Directions:

• First, prepare the pasta and shrimp: 
• Fill a large pot with salted water and bring it to a boil. Add the linguini and cook according to package directions. 
• Drain the pasta and place it in a large bowl. Sprinkle some olive oil on the pasta, and mix.
• Meanwhile, in a large skillet heat 3 tablespoons olive oil. 
• Add 2 cloves of garlic and sauté for one minute. 
• Add the shrimp and thyme and cook for about 3 minutes, until the shrimp have turned pink. 
• Remove from the heat, add the feta cheese and season with freshly ground black pepper. 
• Add the shrimp mixture to the pasta.
• Add some parsley and mix well. Cover and set aside.
• Now make the puttanesca sauce:
• In a pan heat some olive oil and add the rest of the garlic along with the anchovies, red pepper seeds, and capers. Cook for about one minute, stirring. 
• Add the olives, the oregano, the Roma tomatoes and the sun-dried tomatoes. 
• Cook for about 10 to 15 minutes.
• Add the sauce to the pasta and shrimp and mix. 
• Before serving garnish with the grape tomatoes and the rest of the parsley and feta cheese.

COOK THE BOOKS: THE SHAPE OF WATER

"The Shape of Water," written by Andrea Camilleri, featuring the dauntless inspector Montalbano. 

We’re going to Cook the Books again, and this time the vehicle we are using is Andrea Camilleri’s novel “The Shape of Water.”  After reading the novel we are making something to eat. Something delicious.  Something inspired by the book. In my case, I’m choosing to make pasta puttanesca with shrimp! I know, I know, the novel is set in Sicily, and pasta puttanesca is a dish created in Naples. Nevermind. Have you read this book? There are so many ladies of the evening living in its pages that it would be a shame not to honour them with the very popular pasta puttanesca, a truly delicious dish that is purportedly named after these hardworking women.  
  

The fictionalized Sicilian town of Vigata is the setting for Camilleri’s novel “The Shape of Water.” The town comes complete with a “pasture,” which is the name for the al fresco red light district of Vigata. A dead body is discovered in the pasture by local trash collectors, and that sets in motion the action of the novel. That pasture is by no means a pastoral place! No sheep graze there. By the way, did you know that sheep herding is the second oldest profession in the world?   

Pasta  Puttanesca with Shrimp: This post is my contribution to the current edition of Cook the Books.  This round is hosted by Rachel of The Crispy Cook. 

I made this version of pasta puttanesca with linguine, which I mixed in a briny tomato sauce that was flavoured with anchovies, capers and olives. I also added shrimp, which is not traditional, but I wanted to combine the briny taste of the sauce with seafood, a combination which can serve as a reminder of the beautiful seas which surround the achingly beautiful island of Sicily. While dinner was being prepared, I snacked on a mouthful of some crunchy càlia e simenza that I had made the day before.   

Càlia e simenza: lovingly described by the author, here is how our hero, Inspector Montalbano, enjoys this snack:  

“taking the stroll he customarily allowed himself …  along the eastern jetty, out to the lighthouse.  Before he set out however, he always stopped at Anselmo Greco’s shop, a hovel that clashed with the clothing boutiques and shiny, mirrored cafés along the corso…  Greco also sold càlia e simenza, a mixture of roasted chickpeas and salted pumpkin seeds.  Montalbano would buy a paper cone full of these and then head out.”
  

I myself have eaten lots of  càlia e simenza, and it's a wonderful way to pass the time especially when taking a slow, scenic stroll.  Eat some chickpeas, crunch on some roasted pumpkin seeds, look at the scenery, contemplate your navel ... heaven! To make this snack, just open up a can of chickpeas, rinse and dry them really well and place them on a baking pan lined with parchment paper. Sprinkle some olive oil and salt over, add whatever other spices you really love, then bake in a 375  F oven for at least 30 minutes, or until they are crunchy. Roast the pumpkin seeds separately, mix with the chickpeas, and you're in business! Truthfully though, there is no way to make the perfect càlia e simenza at home. The real version is roasted and dried in an industrial setting, and it's something one buys from the street vendor or the corner shop. I spent many happy childhood summers snacking on bags of càlia e simenza. The Greeks (of which I am one) and the Sicilians have many things in common. Shared foods and recipes are one commonality. I was thrilled to read about inspector Montalbano's habit of eating càlia e simenza; it brought back memories.

  

Camilleri’s "The Shape of Water..." Following are some of my impressions of the novel, but first I include a type of prologue:

Once upon a time, there was a little boy who wanted a pony for Christmas. He started asking for it around September and didn’t stop asking ‘till Christmas Eve. That boy wanted a pony! Early on Christmas day he woke up, got dressed in a hurry, no breakfast, and he ran to the barn. He was sure there would be a pony waiting for him. However, all he saw was a large pile of manure. His father went to the barn and found the boy shovelling the manure. “What are you doing, son?” the father asked. “Looking for my pony,” said the boy. “With all this manure, there has to be a pony in here somewhere!”

Just like the boy in the anecdote, I did quite a bit of shovelling as I tried to find the pony in Andrea Camilleri’s novel “The Shape of Water.” Throughout the pages of the book, I met pimps, prostitutes, drug addicts, hoodlums, and corrupt politicians. I heard more than enough base and obscene language, and I failed to laugh at numerous crude jokes. I found out that the novel included inferences to incest, one of the most reprehensible types of human behaviour. As I shovelled along, guess what happened? My pony appeared!  It arrived on the scene in the persona of the dauntless Sicilian police inspector Salvo Montalbano, who ploughed through layers of corruption in order to solve the murder of a politically and socially prominent man who as it turned out was killed ... from natural causes. 

The action of the novel unfolds in Sicily, unrecognizable in Camilleri’s rendering. The scenery is mostly limited to trash-strewn vistas and dilapidated buildings, and there is a meagre supply of likeable people.  Montalbano is described as a man in love with his native island, but there’s not much that's described to love here. Except for the food. When the inspector takes a break from police work, he usually finds something very interesting to eat, and what he has to eat always gets a favourable description.

Montalbano dined on boiled shrimp and pasta, which can be easily transformed into pasta puttanesca with shrimp. Just add the puttanesca sauce on top of the shrimp and pasta, mix and enjoy!  

People like Montalbano, who are involved in solving crimes, have to contend with sordid circumstances and disreputable individuals.  The details of this unsavoury type of work are clearly narrated by the author. I came to develop a liking for Montalbano.  Underneath a tough exterior, he hides a heart of pure gold. He doesn’t always follow the letter of the law, but that’s because he prefers to protect the innocent from the claws of the corrupt kingpins, the latter of which can shape the law to fit their own needs. The law of the corrupt can take on any shape, just as a volume of water can take on any shape depending on its container. Hence, the title of the novel makes sense. Montalbano is a man of the people. Of the struggling,  sometimes fallible Sicilian people. Despite the pressure put upon him by his superiors, our inspector does not give up until he figures out the details which led to the victim’s death from nothing but ... natural causes. Yes, the fellow did die flagrante delicto, but as Montalbano discovers, the dead body was moved around a few times between the time of death and the time of discovery. In the end, the inspector is able to help and protect some people who would have otherwise gotten framed. However, nothing can be done about the kingpins. They go on. 

This novel was written in 1994, during a time of great unrest in Sicily. Mafia wars had caused a significant amount of bloodshed. The politicians were on the take, the average people were scared, and unemployment was high. In the novel, the island is occupied by soldiers from the mainland. This, in fact, was a reality. The Italian government had sent peacekeeping troops into Sicily following the murders of prominent anti-mafia judges. The troops remained in Sicily until 1998; the military operation was dubbed "The Sicilian Vespers" (I Vespri Siciliani, after Verdi’s opera). 

In “The Shape of Water,” Camilleri points his finger at the political and criminal upheaval of 1990’s Sicily. I suppose that was Camilleri’s way of pointing his finger at what was going on, and his way of prompting average Sicilians to keep fighting back in order to reclaim their island. It's not merely a murder mystery Camilleri wrote. Through a subtext of social criticism, he exposed the repulsive nature of a corrupt society. 

Finally, since I did mention Verdi’s “I Vespri Siciliani,” how about some Sicilian fun?  For our enjoyment, a clip of “Mercè, dilette amiche,” Elena's aria from Act V of "I Vespri Siciliani." I listened to every rendition available on YouTube, from the best to the not so good. I loved this version, recorded in 1955. Maria Callas sings, with Tullio Serafin conducting. Of course, I could also mention Sutherland, who is superb in it, but what makes this version different is that Callas feels each word she is singing!

Enjoy listening to Verdi and Maria, and I hope you smile when you hear that beautiful E at the very end. This difficult aria is rendered so, so beautifully! 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sH5QA1T5ToA&ab_channel=Mart%C3%ADn