Amate il pane

I found myself thoroughly enjoying the daily walks to the local panetteria in the wee hours of the morning, knowing that in just a few moments I would have fresh, delicious bread to bring home. It is not merely a staple in the Italian household; it is a celebrated and honored food. It is sustenance for the belly and for the heart.

Below is the poem written on the front of the brown paper bag from the panetteria. I've translated it for my English-speaking family and friends.

Amate il pane                   Love bread

Cuore della casa                Heart of the house

Profumo della mensa             Smell of the dining hall

Gioia del focolari              Joy of the home

Onorate il pane                 Honor bread

Gloria dei campi                Glory of the fields

Fragranza della terra           Fragrance of the land

Festa della vita                Feast of life

Rispettate il pane              Respect bread

Sudore della fronte             Sweat of the brow

Orgolglio del lavoro            Pride of work

Poema di sacrificio             Poem of sacrifice

Non sciupate il pane            Don't waste bread

Ricchezza della patria          Richness of the country

Il piu' santo premio            The most blessed prize

Alla fatica umana               Of human effort

Valerie xoxo

A list. Of the Sicilian variety.*

1. V- Today I had the best peach of my life. My tastebuds didn't even know what was happening. Seriously, I wish I could take a picture of the flavor to share with you. Sweet, fresh, juicy- a perfect, beach time snack.

2. V, S, J - "Mmmmm!" This is the basic gist of what we say every evening when we pass a certain field ten minutes outside town. It's a field of wild grass that gives off a scent extremely similar to maple syrup. You can only smell it at night, when the air pressure drops.  If we could find a way to bottle the scent and take it back to NJ, we would. Then we would quit school and set up a stand so that people from all over could come and smell it. Millionaires, we tell you, millionaires.

3. S- My favorite time of day is when the sun is low in the sky and casts its rays over the land. I'd like to sit under an olive tree and witness the passing of time as the sun sinks behind the mountains.

Photo credit: Stephanie

4. V, S, J - We've come to appreciate the stories and mannerisms of several wizened people. Things these people have in common: They are old. And cute. Really, really adorable in the way that they speak (some with gravelly, low voices and others with bursting, strong laughs). These lovely men and women told stories of their lives from the 30s and 40s as they experienced life under Mussolini's regime. Some men wove in tales of working the land, while one woman smiled sweetly as she remembered the first time she made eyes at her future spouse from across the piazza during a traditional festivity. We listened with great reverence and admiration as they relayed moments of hardship, times of laughter, and expressions of profound love. 

5. J- I want my own balcony. S and V- So she can sing, and sing and sing and sing. And singggggggg! And honestly, we wouldn't mind. As proud sisters who love to hear her sing, it was a true joy listening to Jen perform karaoke to the song "I Hope You Dance" in the piazza. She received a thunderous applause. = )

Jen prepping for a private performance in campagna.

*We wrote this post last week in Sicily. From here on out, however, we are writing our blog entries from our lovely American home. Our last week in Sicily was chock-full of adventures and visiting. With such busy days and a mishap with Val's computer (it crashed), we had to delay the posts. So stay tuned as we continue to share our Sicilian experiences.

Valerie, Stephanie, and Jennifer xoxo