Upon our eventual return to their home, we were greeted by a teaming table, groaning
under the weight of Marco’s wines and an eye-popping array of simply Sicilian dishes: fresh tuna and tomato spaghetti, bread crumbed sardines, scarlet tomato bruschetta and our addition of warm ricotta for afters, topped with a little granulated sugar and lemon zest (Sicilian, of course) to serve. Each dish was entirely un-fussed, letting the wonderfully local ingredients sing for themselves, joined only by the sole permitted appendage: wine. Each bottle flowing as favourably as the next, we tasted a richly spicy Bonera red with the tuna, the hint of sweetness pairing beautifully with the mild
saltiness of the fish; an unmistakably buttery Chardonnay, lightened by summery aromas of fresh peach and mango and, to finish, an almost apple-like dessert wine made late in the season when the grapes are wrinkled and intensely sweet.
Hauling ourselves to our feet, we attempt to help with the washing up, but to no avail. “You are guests here. In Sicily, the guests must not help. Sit, drink more wine and finish that plate of tuna.” We do not protest. Hours later, more than sufficiently gorged, we rise to make our sad goodbyes. “Wait, you cannot leave without wine, take these two for the road.” Rearranging our already bulging rucksacks we feel laughably like Italy’s most high-end backpackers. “We are proud of our wine, we want you to enjoy it” Mariella assures us, thrusting a corkscrew into my pocket. This is a culture I could get used to.
You can try Marco’s wines at Jamie’s Italian Restaurants, look out for his Jamie’s Italian Rossi, proudly produced in Menfi, Sicily.
Pippa Cole
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