The Essence of Almonds

Almonds. Mandorle. They are just as much a part of life here as bread and olives. Although it is a short walk to the market to buy some almonds already peeled and shelled, there is simply no need to do so when our cousins have land teeming with almond trees. Instead, we drive up the mountain and pick almonds right from the tree. Not only have Jennifer, Valerie, and I tried our hands at picking, cracking, and peeling the almonds, but we’ve also become campanuole in the process – as we’ve learned how to prepare our own glasses of almond milk. 

Before I describe the delectable process of creating almond milk, I’m going to take a moment to describe the almond itself - a most ancient nut. The almond is nestled inside two layers. The outermost layer is a soft, fuzzy peel (like that of a peach, but slightly thicker). It is a pale greenish-yellow tinged with a faint spot of red. Typically, this covering is opened when the almond bud is ripe, which occurs in the month of August (how lucky are we!), so it is easy to peel off. The next covering is a grainy brown shell that’s as indestructible as a hardhat. While in the countryside, we had the cool experience of taking a rock to these hard shells. And what is the reward for peeling and smashing and working meticulously with your fingers to break aside the grainy shell? A sleek brown nut with a cream-colored inside. A sweet little treasure nature goes through great lengths to protect.

While we on our way back from the butcher’s shop in Agrigento (a more detailed post about this to follow), I stopped at a bar, much like our cafés, for a quick drink with my mom and my cousin. This is one of my favorite things about Europe- and in particular Italy. These places with marble or granite countertops, and maybe a table and chairs, allow a person to take a break from their busy day for a gelato or caffé. While there, I noticed a sign that said “latte di mandorle D’Avolo”  D’avolo? Like Diavolo? Devil Almond Milk? Almond Milk of the Devil? Whaa?

Nope. I asked and was told Avolo is a place. Almond milk. The homemade variety.

My cousin Giovanni ordered us a glass and I sipped the sweet stuff while he asked how it was made. The next night we cracked enough almonds to try it ourselves.

Giovanna, our other cousin, pulled out a quaint little notepad full of recipes and she explained to me the old way of making almond milk. The instructions required the grinding of almonds into powder-like dust by hand. I imagine that lots of stories were shared during the hours of grinding almonds. But because it was late at night when we started this process and in the interest of time, we used a food processor. Only a key difference of a few hours, but without any compromise of flavor. 

So, when we had a nice sized bowl of almonds, we boiled them in water for about five minutes. Then we peeled off la pelle, the skin, placing the whitish nuts on another dish. After peeling, we put all of them in a blender and added water. Then, Giovanni ran the thickened liquid through a strainer-type machine to concentrate it. 

We put some of the concentrated deliciousness into a glass, poured in water, stirred, and with a sprinkle of sugar and essence of almond, we finished! Almond milk. And it was buonissimo!

- Stephanie xoxo