Early morning was beautiful and calm – other than the feelings and context that the number 60 might provide to your life. Birthday dance on the deck (thanks, Tay, for continuing the family tradition!) you can see in the featured photo.
Skipper charts our course:
Some photos in harbor:
And we headed out of port at 7:25 am and rounded the corner to see what Settimio called – and Asians call karsts.
Beautiful.
Everyone wakes up at their own pace. Carolyn pops up from the window in her cabin:
And then to front of boat for some stretching:
Incredibly calm seas (read: no wind) and a 6ish hour motor down to Cèfalu on the northern coast of the Sicilian mainland. Bridge, sparkling local rosé and brunch made for me along the way. Pulled into the marina a bit before 2 and we agreed we needed to walk around town for a couple hours just to be hungry for tonight’s feast. We meandered through town, into the church, then Tay, Lance, Carol, Reed and I head up to the top of the rock (another Acropolis) to visit the old castle. It was schvitzy, heading up the switchbacks in the heat of the day, but just had to do it considering the feast coming in the evening! We made it to the top of this:
And then back for a little rest, then getting dolled up for dinner. And my honey surprises me! See what he brought me:
Then we all head off to dinner, which I’d worked out with Settimio to have ordered ahead of time. As you can see, we were able to get a lovely table set on the cobblestone pedestrian walkway under a giant, lit-up umbrella. Perfect setting. Perfect weather!
We had several lovely courses, including the fresh anchovy on toast:
And antipasti (clockwise from upper left) of swordfish caponata, octopus ceviche, shrimp deep fried with sesame batter sitting on a purée of green olives, and raw sweet shrimp:
Too much time between courses, but of course it’s partially filled with stories from Settimio:
And then two pastas. First was risotto with herbs and crabmeat:
And next was fresh fettuccini with ground sausage and eggplant:
All yummy.
Then everything went downhill. They brought out a meat course (after telling us they didn’t work with meat and that we’d be having an eggplant tart) that was awful. In fact, the waiter was still standing by me when I took a bite and the look on my face said it all. In fact, no one liked it. At all. They brought out a “make-up” dish of eggplant with a lovely tomatoe sauce, but the die was cast. Next up was lemon sherbert to clear our palates, then the fish dish. Oh no! Those fuckers. The owner told Settimio that he knew my taste and changed the dish from the local specialty of fish filet wrapped around frisee to a (very overcooked) filet with a salad on the side. Even Settimio was upset by this change, but evidently Italians don’t say anything about these types of problems.
By now, it’s been almost 3 hours and we’re taking turns walking around the block. Reed and Alexi have headed back to the boat because it’s so dang late. I learned my lesson – don’t do anything out of the ordinary unless you are very specific and don’t leave food choices in anyone else’s hands!!! The restaurant owner knew nothing about my palate, though he thought so. Anyway, we decide to shake it off and out comes an incredible cake tha Settimio has ordered for me and after the traditional:
I cut into the cake and eat it with my hands. Made up for the last hour, it did! And here I am, still being Deb at 60:
A lovely walk home and the day is done.