Sicily shelters many memories, like an ancient version of my early California days. Warmth, sunshine, seaside, fresh fruit and lively wines. In many ways these two places are so alike, in their feel. When you scratch the surface though, Sicily is a multi layered cake.
This isn’t going to be a wine posting per se. Memories around the wines and memories before the time I was even on the planet. Where do they come from? Why do I remember an ancient Greek temple but forget the book I read a year ago?
A glass of fresh red wine, Cerasuolo di Vittoria, on a patio by the shade of a palm tree, where I heard my Grandmother singing and cooking and my grandfather watering the plants, the aromas of oregano and basilico washing my senses with light and vigor.
Scurrying around the Sicilian countryside in Zio Peppino’s Cinquecento, stopping to take a picture or get some fresh eggs or olive oil, in this tiny little car pressing on the landscape at a speed that only now seems impossibly wonderful.
On the way back to Palermo there is a scene , two country Sicilian men, from the turn of the century standing by their Carro Siciliano. I remember this clearly but was I there at the time the picture was taken, was I even alive in those days? But it is a fond memory nonetheless, even if it is from an ill tempered time machine gone mad in reverse.