In Sicily’s capital, a paper cone of crisp, peppery scraps of veal makes a surprisingly delicious start to the day
Toni greets me with a nod before slipping his arm beneath the flowery cloth that covers the steaming wicker basket on his street stall. He rummages around before extracting a ribbon of something yellow and squidgy. He chops it into bite-size folds, sprinkles it with pepper, drenches it with lemon juice and proudly hands me the warm parcel.
In Sicily, breakfast is less about cappuccino and more about frittola – leftover scraps from a calf carcass, boiled then fried until crisp. It’s what I’m now clutching in my hands and it is surprisingly delicious, reminiscent of the skin of a roast chicken.