Aeschylus turned into sitting on a rock, probably questioning or writing, in step with his habit. Mistaking the bald and shining head of the poet for a rock on which to break open his prey, an eagle flying overhead dropped a tortoise. According to legend, the tortoise hit the mark, instantly killing the Greek tragedian who, having returned to the south coast of Sicily in 453 BC, changed into searching for refuge in the wheat-bearing land of Gela.
The poet Archestratus was also from Gela. Unlike the bald and unfortunate Aeschylus, Archestratus’ death was not tragic. In reality, quite the other. A proud glutton, Archestratus became a 4th-century BC Jay Rayner, roaming the Mediterranean eating and writing humorous didactic poems advising human beings to discover exceptional meals, substantially fish. Fragments of his poems still exist today, including in The Deipnosophists (The Sophists at Dinner), in step with writer Mary Taylor Simeti (whose novel, On Persephone’s Island, and books on Sicilian meals I particularly propose). The fragments are a blueprint for present-day cookbooks, advising us, for instance, how to cook tuna: “Slice it and roast it all rightly, sprinkling just a little salt, and buttering it with oil.”
These days, references to Gela are more likely approximately the looming presence of an oil refinery or the dark aspect of the first-rate tomatoes that develop in this warm, salted coast segment. Guidebooks recommend that when driving past Gela, hurry up and avoid your eyes. For us, Gela is our summertime home; the now-defunct oil refinery, with its red-and-white chimney, a stripy landmark as we method my associate’s home town for a month of the circle of relatives, sausages and crimson mullet cooked at the roof, bread protected with sesame seeds, days with the aid of the sea and watermelons for miles. There’s also salmoriglio, a sauce that flavors our summer meals, and one that can be interpreted as oil, lemon juice, garlic, and oregano anywhere you can find.
Like many sauce recipes, you don’t have one for salmoriglio. However, a concept of proportions would possibly assist. Pound, weigh down, or carefully chop a clove or two of garlic with a pinch of salt. Add the juice of a lemon (about 100ml), 200ml more-virgin olive oil, and a generous pinch of dried oregano. You can also upload a pinch of red chili or some chopped parsley. You could make it within the blender – in fact, it creates a cloudy sauce with actual texture – however, I tend to weigh down the garlic and salt in a mortar, scrape it right into a jar with the oil, lemon, and oregano, and shake madly. This additionally means that leftovers are ready to be stored inside the fridge.
You can use fresh oregano if you desire; the fragrance of the small leaves reminds you that oregano and mint are household herbs. Dried, but is while oregano comes into its personal, with the musty fragrance deepening. I used to discover oregano’s fragrance, which was unpleasantly strong—dusty, even. I now recognize this changed as it became forgotten in a drawer for years and years, pulled out and used unknowingly.
Oregano’s flavor is pleasant when braised, stewed, or in residual heat, so it’s sprinkled in or on top of stews rather than fried. The excellent oregano is the sort in dry bunches: rub a stem between your hands over a sheet of kitchen towel, then preserve any leftover in a jar and the bunch in a dry place, but not for too long. Alternatively, you may use clean marjoram.
At the Anna Tasca Lanza Cooking School in the Sicilian countryside, salmoriglio is served in a gravy boat to be poured on heated veggies: steamed broccoli, slices of courgette, or thousands of steamed vegetables. “Pass me that boat of deliciousness,” my friend requested during our remaining time at the school.
In Gela, I marinate thick slices of aubergine in salmoriglio (or, as my father-in-regulation says, “salamarigghiu”), leaving them for about 20 minutes so they sop up the flavors, earlier than searing them on a ridged grill. I marinate fish (swordfish or hernia) or grill entire fillets on our bandy-legged charcoal grill, then pour over the sauce while hot off the grill. Heat is important for salmoriglio: it wakes up the flavors like an alarm – especially the garlic and oregano, with its musty, peppery fragrance, inseparable from the harshly stunning and shrubby Sicilian panorama wherein it grows, and tortoises fall.
