There’s a little island, off the coast, between Roma and Napoli and it is calling our name. A craggy crescent of volcanic rock, Circe once ruled Ponza, singing her siren song to the tragic Ulysses. Perhaps, we’re hearing the call?
There’s a little island, off the coast, between Roma and Napoli and it is calling our name. A craggy crescent of volcanic rock, Circe once ruled Ponza, singing her siren song to the tragic Ulysses. Perhaps, we’re hearing the call?
Our plan is to swim with the fish, and eat the fish; not necessarily in that order. The Cousteau family filmed more than one documentary in the area, so we’re bringing our PADI cards and our flippers.
But, before we go, we need to pay homage to that other god, Orto. I filled my big market basket with tomatoes from our kitchen garden, Jeff topped it off with a few more and it was time to drag out the canning pot one more time. This time I decided to try roasted tomatoes, and I slow roasted them until the skins were charred and the house smelled red and ripe.
Being a pagan isn’t easy..so many gods, so little time. Wine god, kitchen god, orto god, island siren..they are so demanding! But, a little homage usually pays off, so I can’t complain.
Next week, I’ll be back in NYC. Who do I pay homage to there? The traffic god?