My deep deep love of Arancini expressed in the oldest form of admiration and obsession I know…Poetry
I’m going to get a little sentimental in this post so be warned… If you don’t know what an Arancino is then I sincerely hope that you do everything in your power to experience this little fried ball of perfection. Any flavor is worth it, but there’s something magical about al Ragu’.
When I moved to Sicily I did what any seasoned traveler would do…I ate everything. I couldn’t get enough. Then one night I was sitting with some friends and they asked what I thought of arancini. My response was that I had never had one and the long gaping silence that ensued was menacing. Sicilians are loud by nature, but somehow my response was so blasphemous that I managed to silence the entire party. Once they regrouped it was decided that something had to be done. Someone left and returned a few minutes later with an arancino al ragu’…. It was all downhill from there….(see horrible but original photos of the experience)
It was an eye opening moment for me…In fact, my profound appreciation of the arancino runs so deep that I decided the only way to express my obsession is in a poem. Thus I present to you:
Ode To An Arancino (al Ragu’)
A crunchy exterior, fried golden to perfection
I sink my teeth in and the crackle of crust fills my ears
Warm rice and hearty ragu’ is heaven
Melted cheese could melt all my fears
Teardrop in shape, but no one is crying
Except for my waistline but really who cares
Oh, Arancino, you are my absolute favorite
Even cannoli can’t seem to compare
I eat you for lunch, or even for dinner
No fork, no plate, no spoon, nor knife
Just you and me anytime anyplace
Dear Arancino you require no strife
Dear Arancino, you’re truly perfection
I should be amiss to part with you
But sadly my gluten intolerance prevails
Don’t fret though, somehow we’ll make it through!
Phew! Thanks for suffering through that…
True story though, after my first year of overdosing on arancini, fresh warm bread, homemade pasta, and straight out of the oven pizza, not only did my jeans reject me but my body decided that it couldn’t take any more (tear). Every once in a while though I’ll still suffer just to get my fix of fried, crispy, warm, gooey, meaty goodness!