Still life with ricotta

A staple in my kitchen while I was in Castellemmare del Golfo was some fresh ricotta. Drizzled with olive oil on some fresh bread, or dollops dropped on pasta with tomato sauce it made a quick satisfying meal or snack.

Growing up in Brooklyn ricotta came overflowing in quart sized tins wrapped with waxed paper held in place with a rubber band. It was only later that the familiar yellow plastic container of Polly-O ricotta became the staple.

One of my fondest childhood memories is my grandfather fashioning a sprinkler for us in the backyard, using the tin from the ricotta. He would poke holes into the container and hang it from the clothesline with the hose running into it. The water would come down in a gentle, cool shower.

On hot days we would sometimes go to the park on Knickerbocker Avenue to run through the sprinkler. But the park had become a place where shady characters dominated the benches and we were told not to visit there anymore. Papa's innovation was no doubt inspired by the sprinkler in the park.

While elsewhere in America in the fifties, kids were going to camp and taking swimming lessons at suburban town pools, we were quite content to cool off in grandpa's homemade ricotta can sprinkler amidst the fragrance of his sweet yellow roses.

I can still see the smile of contentment on his face as he watched from the kitchen window as we jumped and squealed in the safety of his backyard.