Wiser to Go Around the Volcano Than Through

 “At 3329 meters, it is Italy’s highest mountain south of the Alps and the largest active volcano in Europe,” tells Lonely Planet – Sicily.  Mt. Etna graces our skyline on clear days (which are most) with its vast, looming, and ever-smoking presence.  It is the subject of centuries of folklore and countless items of merchandise, including nearly every postcard from this region.  So on a bright and sunny day too windy for outdoor activity, Dinosaur and I took to the rental car and decided to drive around the brooding volcano to see what was offered at it’s feet.

Heading West, we first came upon Paterno, a sweeping cluster of homes, churches, and businesses nestled in a valley between Mt. Etna and a hilltop Norman castle built in 1072.  

I reeeeeally want to go inside one of these castles!!  But they all appear to be locked up without hope of entry.  What’s it like inside?  Why can’t I wander the corridors?  And who do I need to talk to about renting it out for the most kick-ass party EVER??

Continuing North, we stopped for lunch at a café in Adrano.  Dinosaur and I shared a pleasant lunch of cheese pizza followed by pistachio cake (me) and strawberry gelato (Dinosaur).  We attempted to chat in Italian to the nice Romanian woman working the counter.  Well, either she was Romanian or she was from Rome.  That’s how spectacular our Italian is.

 Outside the café, we meandered around yet another 11^th century Norman castle, and strolled through a pleasant tree- and rose garden-filled park.  

On the way back to the car, I noticed this weather vane atop an old baroque church.  The stout breeze that day couldn’t decide on one direction, so this angel was swinging around, appearing to my unorthodox eye to be a rogue angel pole dancer spinning away above the oblivious church-goers.

 

Halfway up the West perimeter of the Etna National Park, we found ourselves in Bronte, a town famous for pistachio nuts.  Our Lonely Planet guide recommended stopping here for pistachio gelato, and that seemed to me like advice worth heeding.  Best pistachio gelato thus far!  Even served with a sprinkling of crushed pistachios on top.

Apparently even Homer Simpson loves the green pistachio gelato.

Driving through acres of sprawling pistachio groves, we  made our way due North of Etna to Randazzo.  This town is closest to the active volcano’s peak, but has always escaped catastrophe throughout Etna’s frequent (geologically speaking) eruptions.  (Catania, for example, has not been so lucky.)   

We spent quite a bit of time wandering around Randazzo, enjoying the scenic setting and finding each of three WWII crenellated churches.

While in Bronte, I received a text from Bella, inviting us to dinner at Rachel’s horse ranch East of Etna.  We had a few hours to spare, so when we saw a road sign for 22 km to Floresta, a supposedly gorgeous nature getaway that had been recommended to us by a local, we decided to head North to check it out.  Floresta was a bizarre break from the typical Sicilian landscape – instead of flat, dry, rocky expanses, we climbed a mountain into lush forests.  Cacti gave way to tall leafy trees, with wildflowers abundant.  I took a mental note that a Floresta agriturismo should probably be called upon soon to provide a welcome escape  from Sicily’s harsh summer heat.

As dusk crept upon us, we looped around Etna’s Northeastern side and down the Eastern perimeter to Zafferana Etnea, the location of Rachel’s horse ranch. 

Sunday dinner is a big family ordeal here in Sicily, and many of Rachel and Bella’s family members were gathered at the ranch for what Bella described in a text as “traditional Sicilian pizza.”  I was picturing another delicious encounter with stone-fired pizzas, but what we found was an entirely new gluttonous glory altogether: closed pizzas cooked in oil.  Essentially, deep-fried, cheese-filled calzones.  Hel-lo!

(Smoke in the air muddled this pic of IMMA toasting bruscetta bread on the grill.)

 

 

 

In addition to the “pizzas,” we enjoyed grilled chicken and veal, fresh bruscetta, fruit salad, and strawberries so sweet they made me want to dance and sing.  This fabulous feast lasted well into the night, ending with us waving goodbye and shouting “Ciao!” and “Buona notta!” around midnight with straining waistbands and a heaping plate of leftover pizzas to enjoy the next day.