Bronagh Slevin

was the name of the restaraunt I ran for several years with my husband in his hometown. We soon found we had to adapt our lofty ideas of a literary cafe to cater for small town expectations if we wanted to succeed in staying afloat.

Locals called it “Bacia-mama” after the old mafia greeting baciamo le mani and perused the new menu with suspicion, much of which was directed at me – what could a foreigner possibly know about good Sicilian food?

Pachamama survived seven summers, plentiful staff issues and interference from corrupt inspectors, even garnering an award of Excellence on Trip Advisor. It became a reference point in the old Spanish quarter, but by that stage I was busy looking after the bambini.

In October 2015, to the enormous dismay of the dedicated bunch of regulars, Pachamama served its last cocktails and paella. It was time to embark on different projects. However,

creating Pachama brought unexpected satisfactions, inspirations and friendships that will outlast the restaurant.

Much of the ups and downs are recorded in my blog, Sicilian Diary, begun as an essential catharsis when Pachamama first opened and now telling tales from the heart of this volcanic land…