I’m somewhere atop Europe’s only active volcano. Her name is Mount Etna, and she’s a beauty: immense and fiery. In this part of eastern Sicily, the mountain is ubiquitous: not only can you see her for miles, there are rice balls, or arancini, in the shape of her. She’s inspired more art than a pop star’s torrid romance. There’s even a deep red liquor, the locally made Fuoco del Vulcano, in honor of her strength. (Proceed with caution: it’s 70 proof, and I looked like Willie E. Coyote swallowing dynamite when I took a sip.) More often than not throughout 2025, Mount Etna has been doing what she does best: blowing off steam and lava. And who hasn’t done that from time to time? I have a few dirty martinis, Mount Etna erupts now and then. Same difference.
I’m here in Sicily for the first time exploring the off-the-beaten path destinations on the trendy island. I’m a quarter Sicilian, so this actually is my Roman Empire. (The Greeks and Arabs ran this land throughout the years, too). I don’t need to tell you about that certain HBO-turned-Max-turned-HBO Max series that has inspired a million excursions in the recent era. But on the eastern edge of the island, beyond the Gucci and gelato shop-lined streets of Taormina (where I’ll eventually wind up), there’s a bit more to the area than the bustling tourist meccas that have turned some Italian towns like this into places out of Epcot Center.
On the contrary, while Mount Etna does indeed woo tourists (sometimes clueless ones, to the chagrin of local authorities), it’s much less polished than other la dolce vita destinations. My ride up here was an offered excursion courtesy Donna Carmela, the laidback 18-suite boutique hotel I’m staying at tonight which is located roughly an hour from the heart of the volcano and somewhere halfway between the charmingly unpolished city of Catania and the aforementioned Taormina. It’s family-run by the Faros, right down to the pictures of nonnas, uncles and kids on the wall in its spacious communal living room area. The Faro clan also runs a local floral park and winery, which is also on my schedule to visit. I refresh in my bungalow, which boasts a private patio and wading pool, pull my trusty sneakers out of my luggage and head out.
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Though, don’t call me Indiana Jones just yet: we’re told that the lava on Etna moves as slow as one would after a couple of mid-afternoon gelato con brioche (yes, a Sicilian ice cream sandwich, a specialty on the island), so we’re not in a modicum of danger. Driving up and up, past quaint mountain cafes untouched by corporate tourism, our informative guide Alessio maintained a safe distance from any recent lava “tongues,” instead showing us flows from decades past. However, mimicking a tumultuous breakup, the lava may take years to cool down.
A poignant sight along the grey lava ash and rock are small yellow flowers that sprout up in between. For those seeking a bit more color, down the mountain lies Radicepura. It’s a Horticultural Park run by the Faro family that proved to be an ideal respite from our adventures around Etna. Due south of Taorimina and spanning multiple acres, it’s one of the best of its kind in the world, with 3,000 plant species among 5,000 varieties. They also host an annual festival which stretches from May to December, this year dubbed Chaos (and) Order in the Garden, an apt title for our fraught times. Waltzing around during sunset, I filled the camera roll on my overheating iPhone with dozens of pictures of towering trees, bountiful plants, and flowers in full bloom. They also team up with renowned landscapers and artists on rotating exhibits, treating the grounds like a museum for vegetation. To say the least, the meager plants I keep in my apartment would be intimidated.
I’d like to say our saunter made me thirsty. But in reality, it was time to imbibe regardless. Lucky for me, the wines grown around Mount Etna have become globally renowned. The fertile soil from years of eruptions lends the grapes here, including Nero d’Avola, an unmatched rich taste. While there is a dizzying array of wineries that have opened shop in recent years around the mountain, rich vegetation and cultural heritage collide at Pietradolce. Breathing in the fresh air, I can almost taste the reds and whites that would later be poured into my glass. Art exhibits dot their stylish headquarters, including a low-lit reflecting pool in one room meant to make the ceiling up above glisten. I lunch on caponata and zucchini fritters, all consumed while looking out on the rolling vineyards and sipping on crisp glasses of Etna Rossos and Biancos. Even if I was stone cold sober, I’d still be grinning ear-to-ear.
It was laidback to be sure, but that infectious Italian energy of bustling squares and clinking glasses of Negroni Sbagliato were calling me. Down the mountain and in the heart of Taormina, aside from the tourist hotspots Rick Steves is apt to show you (Bam Bar, the bustling granita place, among them), there’s no shortage of off-the-beaten path hideaways and quaint shops hawking piping espresso, local ceramics and bags of fresh oregano. When it comes to eats, sometimes the best bites are the ones just out of sight.
Built along a 16th-century era wall, the Palazzo Vecchio Taormina is perched on a high stone staircase and boasts sprawling rooms with tall arched windows covered by white clapboards. There’s no physical way to walk by its elegant first floor restaurant Monsù which is high above the street, and the relaxed atmosphere is better off for it. With lush, al fresco tropical paintings adorning its walls and massive floral centerpiece (which I naturally take selfies in front of), I feel like I’m back at Radicepura. I feast on long grissini and eggplant parmesan and speak to the chef, who pays rapt attention to detail. The wicker tray the food is served in is meant to match the chairs, through his broken English I’m given the impression he actually made the wooden tray so I double check with the waiter. “No,” he says flatly, shaking his head. I reword my question. “Yes!” he responds, though I think it was a ‘customer is always right’ situation.
While there’s a symphony of flavors on any given plate you’re served, strike up the band: there are actual symphonies too. Milan and Parma may be known for Italian opera, you should know that this part of the island boasts an ancient Greek-Roman theater to rival even the best music houses. The open-air Teatro Antico di Taormina overlooks the startlingly blue sea and when it’s not hosting the Taormina Film Festival, it boasts a regular schedule of shows perfectly timed to coincide with the spectacular sunset. If one can’t follow a full-on opera (like me), the good news is they also boast greatest hits shows with memorable songs from the most popular productions. The drama, the beauty, the art: mamma mia!
To conclude my Sicily sojourn, it was time for a classic ending to rival the richest and cheesiest dessert. Anyone with even a cursory knowledge of Taormina knows that the San Domenico Palace is its shining crown jewel; to ignore it is like skipping the Eiffel Tower while on a trip to Paris. A former convent, half of the property is a UNESCO world heritage site, with untouched architecture and opulent rooms. It is adorned with artifacts from its long history; back in the day monks would read and pray here. Today, speaking from experience, visitors get sloshed in its leafy courtyard while a piano and guitar duo play songs like “You’ve Got a Friend in Me.”
While the hotel itself rightly gets all of the attention, I snag a reservation at Anciovi, its regional seafood restaurant which is more laid back than one would expect. Look down and you’ll see a rainbow of hand painted colors on your table and plates, the latter of which overflow with fresh fish salad, squid ink pasta and cherry-topped cannoli. Look up and you’ll gaze at the Ionian sea. It’s a long way from the smoggy elevated highway that encapsulates the view out my window back home.