Catania. La Pescheria.
La Pescheria, Catania’s fish market
The Etna may well spew out smoke and ash on a daily basis, but the local fish market, La Pescheria, is just as explosive and overwhelming. If anything sums up the beating heart and soul of Catania then it is this very place for it is full of life and as down-to-earth as the locals themselves. This open air fish market lies just off the Piazza del Duomo, behind the Fontana del Amenano, in a lower square framed by beautiful old buildings. The fountain itself takes its name from the river whose waters were diverted through canals running underneath in order to feed the fountain and aid the fishmongers in washing away the bloody aftermath of market day.
The ebullient scene is especially lively on a Saturday morning. Local housewives, entire families and elderly pensioners, mostly male (Sicilian men are keen cooks) jostle through the crowds perusing the merchandise and looking for the day’s bargain. The bounty of the sea is all here in a kaleidoscope of colours, shapes and sizes.
There are bucketfuls of glistening sardines, fresh sea urchins with threatening spines, slippery squid, trays of red mullet and piles of shrimps competing in hues of red, sleek, silvery ribbon fish elegantly rolled up for a photoshoot, shellfish of all sorts squirting water from the depths of sea water-filled basins, snails attempting escape from open wicker baskets, scarlet coloured, fleshy, monster tunas and of course the ubiquitous and regal swordfish, emblematic staple of Sicilian culinary tradition. My iPhone snaps away endlessly, but there is more than the eye can take in. It’s a visual and auditive overdose.
The cries of the gesticulating fishmongers fill the air in melodious local dialect unintelligible even to the fluent Italian speaker. The smell of the sea invades the urban space; so does that of freshly gutted entrails carelessly flung here and there. You may be at risk of the wrath of an angry, clawing crustacean as it is shoved in your face by some insistent vendor. You may also be offered a sliver or two of freshly sliced tuna for impromptu tasting. Prima colazione! (breakfast) the young vendor cheekily cries out to us, an impish grin in his eyes, his brawny, tanned arm outstretched offering up the raw flesh. I decline, the taste of my morning espresso still too fresh in my mouth. The lady next to me wholeheartedly accepts. After all, she is from Puglia, and Puglia is the region of Italy that celebrates raw seafood.
After an initial tour to take in the merchandise, whilst gingerly avoiding stepping the bloodstained floor, we climb the stairs to watch the show unfold from the terrace above the square. Leaning over the railing we feel like we have front row seat to one of the greatest shows on earth. Despite the apparent chaotic scene the mind settles down to calm contemplation.
In one corner of the market square an elderly, sprightly gentleman, wizened by years at sea under the sun, is claiming everyone’s attention. He has undoubtedly spent a lifetime perfecting his filleting skills to artistry. His able and expert hands meticulously carve out the flesh from a huge tuna sprawled on his working table with surgical precision. In the course of an hour the monster carcass is soon reduced to the very few inedible bits: the guts, the fins and the central bone.
All the rest having been expertly de-boned, sliced, patted and pampered to meet each customer’s request be it in the form of thick fleshy steaks for grilling, fine sashimi style slices, whole fillets, etc. He is not a man of many words. His focus remains intent on the falling blows of his sharpened cleaver. On the other hand, the young chap assisting and cleaning up after him provides the necessary entertainment engaging passers-by with cheerful banter.
The veggie corner: the artichoke vendor
Round the corner from the square a colourful array of perky, fresh vegetables and fruit are displayed on overloaded stalls. It is a well known fact that the rich and fertile soil of Catania’s volcano provides ample nourishment for everything planted on its neighbouring slopes. Also, let us not forget that this region hosts some of Italy’s finest vineyards providing amongst others the red variety of Nero d’Avola and the white variety of Grillo.
However, the centre of attraction of the fruit and vegetable market is without doubt the artichoke vendor. Standing at his workplace, a rudimentary, charcoal grill, the sweat flows endlessly down his fire-tanned brow. His chapped lips cling onto a limping cigarette as he painstakingly places artichoke after artichoke in regular rows onto the fire. His smoke, the charcoal grill and the unseasonable warm temperatures combine in one overbearing heatwave. He continues the task giving each prickly artichoke a generous slathering of olive oil and a sprinkle of finely chopped parsley.
On another grill there are also red peppers, the skins now burnt to an unrecognisable black ashy colour. Someone is taking care of prepping them for consumption: the peppers are cleaned, the seeds removed, the still warm vitamin-rich flesh cut into strips and finally seasoned with a dash of vinegar, salt and olive oil. Both the roasted red peppers and the artichokes are soon enough snapped up by hungry locals stopping off for a take-away meal on their way home from market.
This wholesome snack is my kind of street food. Wish I could take that on board my flight home. Unfortunately, the warm, grilled goodies are not suitable for air travel. I settle for another edible commodity in the form of a couple of jars of preserved artichokes in oil. I end up with six jars weighed down by olive oil (there is always some bargaining involved in the South) and wondering how I will get through security with that. Now that’s a problem for later. For now, a picture with the artichoke farmer himself for after discussing the ins and outs of carciofi we are practically friends.
The meat & deli section
Further on we can not avoid passing – or smelling from afar – the butcher side of this market. There is an endless array of local products heaped in generous portions, mostly smoked meats and cheeses. This is paradise for delicatessen lovers. The real meat lovers – and in Sicily they are pretty fond of their meat – can also revel in finding any cut or animal to suit their fancy.
Whilst horse meat is probably the most popular speciality in Catania, there is also the less obvious variety of animal organs and sheep intestines in rolled up wire-like preparations available for consumption. What strikes my attention is “castrato” (meaning: castrated). It is explained to me and what I understand is that by castrating a lamb between the age of 6 months and 2 years the meat is rendered more tender. I have yet to try it.
Catania street food
Naturally, watching the entire food chain in one intensive morning kind of brings on the appetite. With market day slowly coming to an end it is time to look for an eating hole. “Mm Trattoria” in one of the market streets had been highly recommended to us. Unfortunately, we were too late. It seems reservation is required plenty of time ahead. We had got so immersed in the fish market we had forgotten our basic rule to ensure we would be covered for lunch. Anyhow, next door the same trattoria has opened up its simpler and cheaper offspring: Mm Street Food. Too famished and worn out to hunt for something else we settled for Catania street food.
After the initial nuisance of having to pre-order the food inside the small space where an open kitchen of sorts operates right behing the ordering counter (nice casual touch) we then hunt for a free table outside on the street. This is a popular place so you have to be quick. We were lucky. Food came quick and delivered to us by one of the friendly, young chefs. It did not disappoint.
The “arancini” were served with a fresh tuna and tomato ragu on the side. These deep fried, bread-crumbed rice balls come with different fillings in Sicily from plain mozzarella, minced meat ragu, prosciutto and mozzarella, etc. They are to the go-to snacks for Sicilians at any hour of the day; the street food equivalent of souvlaki for the Greeks, wurst for the Germans and hot dogs for the Americans. This version with fish was totally yummy and less heavy than the meaty, cheesy ones I have tried before.
Next up, a warm ciabatta sandwich filled with raw tuna carpaccio, wild rocket, mint and burrata, buttery, fresh mozzarella. This choice was the unanimous winner of the lot sampled as the flavours all blended harmoniously into one delicious bite.
Another local dish was up next: the infamous “sarde a beccafico”, sardines stuffed with a mix of breadcrumbs, cheese and herbs and then fried. Still on the fried path (Sicilians are masters with the frying pan, another thing they have in common with Greeks after the haphazard driving style!) we sampled the “fritto misto”. All was well prepared and delicious, despite the fact I tend to avoid anything fried. After all, this is street food, good street food.
Life was slowly ebbing from the streets of central Catania. The sacred hour of the day had arrived for most when shutters are closed and people retire to rest their weary, over heated and over fed bodies from the midday sun and sinful lunch extravaganza. In our case, also the mind required rest for it was still saturated with the vivid scenes of a bustling Saturday morning market.
P.S. On our way to our room and resting ground we had a change of mind and did a u-turn. We could not end a meal in Catania without having savoured at least one local dessert. After all, sleep would be sweeter. To be continued.