Eat the Babies

It has been a strange week, especially weather wise. Also fishing boat wise. First the fishing boats. As you can see above, they all came out of the harbor at the same time, just before the sun crested the eastern mountains. They were all coming to Baia Ranella, also, and just around the corner near Capo San Marco. They were looking for baby fish, or neonati, or novellame, depending on how you want to name them. They are really small, and somewhat of a delicacy. Of course, netting them means that there are fewer to grow up and be caught in the future, but it does not seem to matter.

Three years ago, the regional lawmakers banned all fishing for the neonati. A reporter went to interview with one of the leaders of the legislature about the ban, and was taken to lunch at the very fine restuarant that is exclusively for the use of government officials. While he was listening to the reasons for the ban on catching and selling novellame, they had a nice meal of novellame. They started out with them raw with just a bit of lemon juice, then some served over pasta, and then a group that had been lightly sautéed. When the article was printed, a fishing season for the baby fish was announced, as well as limits on the catch.

There is still a strict limit, so the boats all come out to try to get the fish while the Coast Guard Boat crew and the Carabinieri boat crew and the Guardia Finance boat crew are in port having coffee and a dolce for breakfast at Bar Charley, or one of the other port bars. Sometimes the enforcement boats patrol in the day light, so the fishermen come out at night. Sometimes the reverse. It is not even a game, it is a rehearsed dance, and everyone knows their part.

It will be a real shame when there are no fish to be caught near here, but that is what they are working toward, and already the fishing haul is dwindling, and the tuna catch is almost non existent. I do not know what sort of fish the novellame would grow into, but I do know that they are smaller than anchovies, and they have huge eyes. When Maryellen and Sue and I ate in Castelvetrano, they brought us two servings of them by mistake. We did not eat them, but there must have been thirty to forty baby fish in each serving.


Then there is the weather. Two days ago it dawned bright and sunny. There were not enough clouds or dust particles around to make a good sunrise shot. Twenty minutes later, the day turned to night, and clouds raced over the mountains to the north, and DOWN toward Sciacca, blotting out the sun completely. Then the water came. It did not seem like rain, but rather like solid water. All of the sand from last week's Sirocci was washed off my cars. I could not see the cars, the clouds were so thick and so near, the rain so heavy. A few minutes later, it had stopped raining, and I could watch the clouds push out to sea. Later that day, a rescue helicopter interrupted my reading as it headed out to sea, probably to help some fisherman who was in trouble with the storm. When I looked out, I noticed the double rainbow you see here. That was quickly followed by more rain from clouds again chasing down the mountain, and Lemoncello II and I fell asleep to the crashes of thunder over Capo San Marco, heading toward Ribera or out to sea. Quite the day.