Then it happened. As I started chewing, an explosion of sweet, inky flavor completely consumed me, and I couldn’t believe a single berry could pack so much flavor. I had another, then another. If you’ve had fresh mulberries, I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. If not, well, I’m not sure what to say. But it’s an experience I don’t get to have often, either.

She made us an offer that was hard to refuse and, as Giovanni told us, nothing gives Sicilians more pleasure than if you tell them that you’ve enjoyed their food. Which we did. The only thing that stopped us from eating them all was Anissa’s white shirt (mulberry juice stains indelibly), and our politeness, as we didn’t want to appear to be greedy gluttons. But Rosalba laughed and said she understood completely because they were so good. So we kept eating.

Once we polished off the berries, Giancarlo showed how they transform the sun-dried oregano into a powder. Then, it was on to the tasting.

First we started with Sicilian fruit marmalades, which were so good, it’s hard not to be adjective-heavy. The first taste of lemon marmalade made our eyes widen. It was as if you had concentrated the best of Sicily into one tiny spoonful. Plump, sweet Sicilian lemons were gently cooked with just the right amount of sugar, into a chunky paste, one that encouraged double-dipping. Which we didn’t do, because Giancarlo was kind enough to break out some extra spoons for us.

The marmalade was one of those things that you just need to go to Sicily to experience as it could only have been made from Sicilian lemons, which are knobbly and dull on the outside, with the entire rind, pith, and all, being used. Even raw, the lemons are sweet enough to eat as-is.

The melon-peach jam managed to balance two seemingly incongruent fruits into a perfect pairing. I was tempted to get down on my hands and knees and worship at the alter of mamma Rosalba, who created the recipes and oversees the jam-making, but I thought better of it. I offered additional gratitude instead. And if I wasn’t traveling with just a carry-on, you can bet my suitcase would be full of her jams and preserves. (Although last time I passed through an airport in Sicily, the security officer took the bottle of water out of my sack, that I forgot I had, unscrewed the top, took a sniff, handed it back to me, and waved me through.)

In a previous post, a few people asked me about the grape syrup that I’d mentioned, which confusingly goes by the name “confettura elisir” (conserved elixir), or “miele d’uva”, or “grape honey.” (I also saw the syrup labeled in places “grape sugar” or “grape preserve”, in English. And there is an actual jam-like confettura, that’s thick with sweetened grapes.)