Two Years On this Island: What living in Sicily (and Its Food) Taught Me

Three years ago, I came to Sicily on vacation. I thought I was just here for a little reset.

A break from the noise, the heartache, the always-on North American pace.

I had no idea that a few days in Palermo would crack my heart wide open.

This month marks two full years of actually living here. And while I’m still learning every single day, Sicily has already taught me so much, about food, life, and myself. Here’s just a taste of what living in Sicily has taught me.

Letting Sicily In

When I first arrived in Palermo, I stayed right on the main street of Capo Market. It was mid-August, and the market was buzzing, overflowing with peaches and eggplants, the scent of basil in the air, the occasional shout from a fishmonger cutting through the heat.

I didn’t speak Italian, but I’d point, smile, and slowly start learning the names of each fruit and vegetable. I spent those early mornings wandering to Mario’s coffee cart, taking it all in: the rhythm of the market, the chaos, the beauty.

That trip planted a seed. I came back twice more (thats a story for another time) and eight months later, I returned, this time with no return ticket.

What I didn’t realize then is that living in Sicily means surrendering to a different kind of rhythm. Time stretches here. Appointments blur. “Now” often means “later,” and sometimes “not at all.” I quickly learned to stop over-scheduling and instead lean into spontaneity. When plans fell through, I went for a coffee… or gelato. Somehow, that always made things better.

What the Food Taught Me

Sicilian food is humble, layered, and deeply rooted in place. It’s not showy—it’s soulful.

Caponata taught me patience.

The first time I made it, I took my time: frying the eggplants until they were soft and fudgy, balancing vinegar and sugar just right. It’s a dish that rewards you for slowing down, for trusting your instincts.

Pasta con le sarde taught me humility.

I avoided it for months... wild fennel, sardines, raisins? It sounded like a lot. But when I finally tasted it, it was like a symphony. Bright, salty, sweet, herbal, somehow it all worked. Now it’s my favorite pasta in Palermo, hands down.

Pane cunzatu reminded me that simplicity is sacred.

A slice of good bread, a drizzle of olive oil, a touch of sea salt, local anchovies. Sometimes, that’s all you need.

How Living Here Changed Me

I’ve started letting go of the idea that everything needs to be perfect. There’s a kind of beauty here in the organized chaos, the graffiti beside a Baroque church, the shouting in the market followed by a warm smile, the olive oil stain on your linen dress that you just learn to live with.

The contrasts that once overwhelmed me now inspire me.

Sicily taught me to trust the messiness. To stop controlling every moment and instead be in it. Even when it’s noisy. Even when it’s not convenient. Especially then.

A Love Letter in Every Bite

This isn’t just a story about food. It’s about surrender. Softness. Belonging.

It’s about remembering that life, like a good meal, isn’t meant to be rushed or perfected, but savored.

Grazie, bedda Sicilia.

For the lessons. The chaos. The joy.

And the reminder that I can begin again.

If this sounds like a dream you’d love to step into, you can.

I host market tours and cooking classes right here in Palermo. We shop for ingredients together, cook traditional dishes in my sunny kitchen, and share stories over wine and handmade pasta.

Click here to join me in the kitchen

Whether you’re planning your next trip or just craving connection, there’s always a seat at my Sicilian table.

Con affetto,

xo

Priscilla