Messina, Sicily. October, 2012

The other day, I met a man from Sicily at my local Watertown, MA, bus stop. When it turned out he was from Messina, I just said one word, arancini. He almost melted, then began to speak about his upcoming trip home for two months when “mama will cook for me.” It’s always nice to meet someone with shared eating experiences. Here’s one of the two arancini I’d bought in my walk through Messina, brought back to share with Dr. Blake at lunch on the boat. When we learned that a British couple we’d befriended had never had one, had never heard of them, we gave them the second one and their world widened.

Messina, Sicily. October, 2012

When we were in Messina a year ago, one of the first things I wanted to do was to try an authentic Sicilian version of the arancini I’d enjoyed for years in Boston’s North End. Mission accomplished. On our return this year, I again made a beeline to the student-filled emporium run by the Famulari brothers. Thirty -- count ’em -- variations available in this joint that my friend Michael has called the Baskin-Robbins of arancini. I opted for #1, the traditional rice ball, filled with tomato-meat sauce, peas and cheese. Michael said he’d go for #6, with a filling of fried eggplant, ricotta, tomato-meat sauce, peas, and dubbed (as is a local pasta/eggplant dish) the Norma, after the opera by native son of nearby Catania, Vincenzo Bellini.

Off the coast of Trapani, Sicily. October, 2015

We can never go to Sicily without buying some arancini. This lovely example is from a bakery just next to Trapani's daily fish market. It's one of two brought back to our boat to supplement our lunch. We gave its twin to our onboard friends Marsha & Co, three London ladies who had never heard of this Sicilian specialty, much less eaten one.

Messina, Sicily. October, 2012

The other day, I met a man from Sicily at my local Watertown, MA, bus stop. When it turned out he was from Messina, I just said one word, arancini. He almost melted, then began to speak about his upcoming trip home for two months when “mama will cook for me.” It’s always nice to meet someone with shared eating experiences. Here’s one of the two arancini I’d bought in my walk through Messina, brought back to share with Dr. Blake at lunch on the boat. When we learned that a British couple we’d befriended had never had one, had never heard of them, we gave them the second one and their world widened.

Messina, Sicily. October, 2012

When we were in Messina a year ago, one of the first things I wanted to do was to try an authentic Sicilian version of the arancini I’d enjoyed for years in Boston’s North End. Mission accomplished. On our return this year, I again made a beeline to the student-filled emporium run by the Famulari brothers. Thirty -- count ’em -- variations available in this joint that my friend Michael has called the Baskin-Robbins of arancini. I opted for #1, the traditional rice ball, filled with tomato-meat sauce, peas and cheese. Michael said he’d go for #6, with a filling of fried eggplant, ricotta, tomato-meat sauce, peas, and dubbed (as is a local pasta/eggplant dish) the Norma, after the opera by native son of nearby Catania, Vincenzo Bellini.