[Jan. 2024] We welcomed the New Year with a modest treat of biscuits and local sparkling wine at the Airbnb in Palermo, Sicily, Italy, where we were staying.
It was a commotion outside, with firecrackers that sounded like bombs had gone off, which I don’t like.
I prepared myself for not being able to sleep, but it died down surprisingly early.
The next day, we spent the morning quietly until lunchtime, and then we walked to the restaurant we had booked at 1 pm.
It was New Year’s Day, so we dressed up a little.
When we got there, it was a slightly pretentious restaurant that was worth dressing up for.
It was called Lo Scudiero.
It was a long and narrow dining room, and there seemed to be another room at the back that we couldn’t see.
The table had a white tablecloth, and the waiters were well-groomed.
The customers seemed to be on the older side.
First of all, I had bottarga for a starter.
It came in a chunk and I ate it with toast.
It had quite a strong flavour, and as a bottarga lover, I was delighted.
It had been a while since I had had it.
My husband went for the safe seafood salad.
For the main course, I chose sea bass from the “fish of the day” and had it grilled.
They served it nicely on the plate.
It was light, had good flavour, and was firm.
My husband had seafood linguine.
He said it was delicious, but the portion was a little too small for him.
For dessert, I got strawberry cake from the cart that came around.
It was quite heavy, far from the typical strawberry shortcake.
My husband had cassata, a typical Sicilian dessert.
It was extremely sweet, but he said it was delicious.
Including coffee and local white wine, the bill came to €145.
It was a bit pricey, but I think it was worth it.
It was New Year’s and I was disappointed the day before, so it was a kind of revenge.
Looking at the customers was also interesting.
At the table behind me, an Italian man was introducing his Scottish girlfriend to his parents.
She didn’t understand Italian, and her boyfriend hardly translated what they were saying.
This couple might not last.
At the table opposite was an elderly couple, a lawyer and his wife.
We knew he was a lawyer because when the wife talked about her husband to the waiter, she didn’t say “my husband…” but “my lawyer…”.
Apparently, it’s an old custom.
I guess it depends on the profession, though.
