Alternating between pouring and drizzling amidst melancholic gloom today in Firenze, so staying close to home, perusing the fridge. Fried Olives. What next? I found them at a husband-and-wife, charmingly operated take-away food shop near the apartment, and have peeked into the tiny kitchen in the back where the goods are prepared.
There is such a thing as fried olives. Who knew? These are luscious and addictive, a thin, greaseless, breaded shell around a fat green olive, pitted and stuffed with manchego type cheese. They would be great for a cocktail party, but I am enjoying them without any fuss.
Also, have hauled a stack of books from the numerous shelves, and have begun reading, away from my NOOK. First up, the discovery of a seemingly idyllic island: Salina, off the coast of Sicily. As we (Greg and I) are hoping to go there, it seems a perfect segue from Palermo. Does anyone reading this know of it? I have zeroed in on a hilltop B&B: al Belvedere, that looks pretty great. Lounging around in the sun on a patio chaise and zipping around in a car to explore and try the well-rated restaurants on the island seems a statistically probably positive way to pass some days.
Spent some time this morning watching a man in the private garden below pruning the rose bushes and just generally tidying things for Spring. He finished just before the rain began. Just like home. . .