Fantasy

One nice thing about living in a foreign culture, or one foreign to me, is that when I see something I only partially understand, I can make up a fantasy explanation that sounds really good. So when I saw all of this grain spread on Paolo's parking area, I knew there had to be an explanation.

Poalo and I agree on one thing. When it comes to food, local is better. Sometimes Paolo may over stoke the fired box on his wood forno, and the bread may be a bit black on the bottom, but Ignatzia's bread is the best there is. Paolo is always proud of the things he grows, and he believes his oranges are better than Ribera's, and that his olive oil is better than the oil from Castelvetrano. I really understand that. Think globally, but eat locally.

It reminds me of once when we were in Taormina, sitting down to dinner at a restaurant we had just found. I asked the waiter/cook/owner what he would recommend, and he said his mother made a wonderful lasagna. I told him that I would like to try it. He said I was out of luck, because his mother lived forty kilometers away, but he would be glad to prepare anything that was on the menu. He assured me that he used the best local ingredients, and that while no one could cook as well as his mother, he was pretty good. It turns out that the meal was indeed delightful.

But excuse me, I have gotten off track here.

I saw the wonderful pile of grain, getting toasted just a bit more in the sun. It did not seem strange to me, as the wheat harvest is almost done, although I had not known that Paolo had been growing wheat. The next step in the process would be for Paolo to carefully sweep it all up,winnow it one more time in the wooden framed sieve, put it in bags, and take it to Mulino San Franciso in the St. Michele area, where he would unload it, carry it to the mill, and watch HIS wheat being milled by LOCAL men so that Ignatzia could make homemade bread with the very best of ingredients. He would be careful that no other local wheat got mixed with his, because if it did, then Ignatzia would be using the same flour as all of the panneficios in Sciacca, who only use locally grown wheat.

So went the fantasy. Actually, I found out that the grain was for the chickens, and because Paolo had not repaired a door, water had gotten into the storage area, and the grain had to be dried out before it could be ground in one of Paolo's two grinders to feed the chickens. Well, at least the chickens are getting food that was dried locally!!