Lindsay Marie Morris

Round-shaped ricotta-cream pastries topped with a nipple-like cherry, the minne di Sant'Agata take the cake among Sicily's most sensuous sweets. But within these so-called breasts of Saint Agatha, you'll find not only chocolate and candied orange peel but also a tragic story.

 

The cakes are named after Agatha of Sicily, who lived and died as a martyr in third-century Catania. At 15, Agatha took a vow of chastity. When she rejected the advances of Roman prefect Quintianus, he had her reported as a Christian, for which she was tortured. Men stretched her on a rack and tore her flesh with iron hooks, burned her with torches, and whipped her. As if that weren't enough, her breasts were torn off with tongs. She survived because, as tradition tells us, St. Peter the Apostle appeared to heal her wounds. Eventually, Quintianus ordered his men to burn her over hot coals. Today, Agatha is honored as the patron saint of rape victims, wet nurses, and breast cancer patients with a February 5 feast day. 

"When people see these cakes and how they look like breasts, or they see breasts in the name, they laugh," says South Carolina baker Patrizia Boscia. "When I explain the story, they stop smiling or laughing, and they become curious and listen. I want to show them that it's not just a funny, pornographic pastry that Italians created; it's a celebration of martyrdom."

Patrizia came to the U.S. from Castellammare del Golfo about 40 years ago and got her Ph.D. in sociology. She taught in New York, Florida, and South Carolina, where she eventually retired from teaching and reinvented herself as a baker. In 2018, she launched Sweet Bites of Italy, taking orders online, catering, and selling at farmers markets.

The minne di Sant'Agata is one of Patrizia's more popular sweet treats. It has special significance to her, which we discussed along with the pastry's origins.

 

 

Describe these cakes and their historical significance.

The cakes are dome pastries, and there are two versions. One is made with pastry dough, and the other with Italian sponge cake. Inside is a very nice filling made with ricotta, candied orange peel, and chocolate chips. Then, they are covered with a thick icing layer—all white. Inside, they are very soft. They're very tasty.

 

They are related to St. Agatha. There is a mixture of history and traditions (or fantasy, in a way). St. Agatha came from a rich family, and it was around 200 years after Christ, a period of very ferocious Christian persecution.

 

A prefect had come to force the population to return to the pagan state and forget their Christianity. He saw this young girl who wanted to become a nun, and he fell in love with her. He tried to convince her to marry him or have a relationship with him. She refused. So, the situation escalated. He became increasingly violent, and he asked his men to take her, and she was put in prison, and then she was tortured.

 

The minne di Sant'Agata are not the original anatomical sweet typical of Italy or Spain. The Greeks created this kind of anatomical breast in honor of a goddess for a particular feast, and they made it with sesame seed and honey.

It is unclear when this anatomical sweet got translated into the religious feast of Saint Agatha. But it is not really so strange because, in Italian—especially Sicilian—pastries, there is often this strange mixture of sensuality—pornography in a way—and religion. If we think of the cannoli, they were a symbol of man's virility.

The strange thing is that these pastries were made by nuns in the convent. Nuns were the ones who really developed Sicilian pastry cuisine. They sold pastries to support themselves and their orphans.

 

But the breast in Italy is not a symbol of sexuality as much as we consider it today. Breasts are a symbol of fertility, motherhood, and nutrition. 

 

What does this cake mean to you personally?

I had never seen them in the part of Sicily where I lived, but when I started to research them and what they represented, I associated them more with the victimization of women. Even though the martyrdom of St. Agatha was not expressed in terms of gender violence, they are associated with the victimization of women and the courage of this lady who, despite everything, refused to bend to the advances of this guy because she wanted to maintain her dignity and she wanted to become a nun. So, in a way, for me, it's a symbol of women's resistance and courage. And that's what I emphasize every time I serve them.

 

What do you hope people take away from these pastries?

I want them to realize that there is a story behind Italian cuisine, especially traditional cuisine.

When we talk about traditional Italian pastries, sometimes it's confusing. Traditional doesn't mean that I need this amount of flour, for instance, or that I must strictly follow a recipe. It's not so much related to the menu as to what Italian cuisine is still attached: a ritualistic nature, a different nature, and a diversity of different regions. This is what traditional is to me.

I want them to understand what makes Italian cuisine different, the fact that it's still attached to events, the history of Italy, and the religion of Italy. 

 

 

 

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Autumn is pumpkin season, even in Sicily, where you can find several savory and sweet recipes. One of these is pizzuliato, a creamy pumpkin soup perfect for chilly fall evenings. 

 

I caught up with Carmen Pricone of The Heirloom Chronicles blog, whose twist on the classic recipe was inspired by her Sicilian mother-in-law. 

 

 

Tell us about your background.

I'm an Italo-Australian with a deep love for traditions and Italian food, and I am the author behind The Heirloom Chronicles blog. I'm passionate about cooking, gardening, and sharing recipes, along with the family memories that come with them.

 

The blog is really a blend of the regions that shaped me: my husband's family was from Sicily, my family is from Basilicata, and I was born in Piedmont before we moved to Australia in 1970—all tied together by the thread of tradition.

 

Many migrants to Australia, like my in-laws who arrived in the 50s and my family in the 70s from regions in southern Italy, brought with them many traditional recipes, all rooted in the seasons. If you had a patch of land in the garden, whether at the back or front, every square meter would be converted into a vegetable patch. Seasonal crops translated to hearty meals, most coming together ingeniously and without a written recipe.

 

What is your approach to recipes?

The idea of taking humble, seasonal ingredients and transforming them into tasty dishes perfectly captures my approach to cooking. I remember growing up spending hours in the garden with my parents. I had a fascination with what was planted after weeks of germination from seeds, knowing this would eventually form part of our meals. 

 

Creating seasonal dishes using the fruits and vegetables we grew is a way of life that resonates with me and many of my readers. Today, I strive to live more sustainably by cultivating my own little garden using seeds saved from my parents' crops, learning from their way of preserving abundance, and being a strong advocate for locally sourced produce.

 

What influence has your mother-in-law had on your approach to recipes like this one?

While my parents inspired me to grow my own fruits and vegetables and keep meals simple, my mother-in-law taught me the art of ingredient composition. This comforting pumpkin soup recipe, called pizzuliati, uses basic ingredients, but the way they come together creates a rich blend of flavors. Each ingredient plays its role, elevating the others. Thought, care, and love went into making her dishes, and that is a part I will always treasure and try to replicate in my cooking.

 

What did this pumpkin soup represent for your husband's Sicilian family tradition?

Everything was prepared with love, likely around the kitchen table, with family and casual conversations. So when my late husband would request this dish, I knew it carried with it a deep sense of nostalgia. As you read through the recipe, there are snippets of memories told.

 

How have you modernized this recipe?

Pizzuliato is a Sicilian dialect name that comes from the word pizzico (pinch), which describes how the small granules are formed using semolina and water. When I'm time-poor, I have been known to use risoni pasta, which would be considered a more modern substitute. I have also made it using rice.

 

Are there regional variations of pumpkin soup in Italy?

Yes, Italy, including Sicily, has a number of regional variations of pumpkin soup, each with its own local twist and name. While pizzuliati is specific and not widely known, pumpkin soups are popular in different areas, often influenced by local ingredients and traditions. A few regional variations include:

• Zuppa di Zucca Siciliana: In Sicily, pumpkin soup might feature local ingredients like wild fennel, almonds, and sometimes even seafood like shrimp, reflecting the island's Mediterranean influence. It often has a slightly sweet and savory flavor profile due to the combination of pumpkin and a touch of sugar or honey.
• Zuppa di Zucca alla Toscana: In Tuscany, pumpkin soup is often combined with cannellini beans and rosemary, giving it an earthy and hearty quality. The soup is usually quite thick, with a drizzle of high-quality extra virgin olive oil.
• Crema di Zucca alla Veneta: In the Veneto region, pumpkin soup tends to be creamy. It sometimes includes potatoes for extra thickness and Parmesan cheese for richness. It's often flavored with nutmeg or cinnamon for a warm, aromatic touch.
• Minestra di Zucca: In Lombardy, the soup is more rustic and simple. It is often made with sautéed onions, garlic, and a bit of sage. It might include rice or even small pasta, making it a comforting dish for colder weather.
  
  

Each region of Italy puts its own spin on pumpkin soup, incorporating local produce, herbs, and traditional cooking methods that make the soups unique to that area. My mother-in-law's pumpkin soup is steeped in tradition, most likely from her town of Vittoria, in the province of Ragusa, Sicily.

 

What specific memories or stories do you associate with making or eating this soup with your family?

I never made this soup with my mother-in-law but learned her recipe through her recounts. This labor-of-love meal would have taken her a good part of her afternoon. It was a dish she knew we all cherished, including her young grandchildren at the time, and a weekly draw card during those winter months.

 

Can vegans or lactose-intolerant people omit the ricotta?

Yes, this dish can be modified to suit vegans or lactose-intolerant people. The ricotta does add creaminess, but it is just as flavourful without. I have known to process a cup of chickpeas, adding that creaminess and thickening the soup.

 

What do you recommend serving with the soup?

This pumpkin soup is a complete meal on its own due to its substance; however, some garlic or herbed crostini would complement it well.

 

What do you hope at-home cooks will take away from this recipe?

With a recipe like pizzuliati, I hope at-home cooks will take away an appreciation for simplicity and the deep flavors that can come from fresh, local ingredients. Traditional Italian recipes like this one are about respecting what's in season, highlighting the natural taste of each component, and enjoying the act of cooking itself.

Pizzuliati, and other rustic dishes like it, are less about following strict rules and more about connecting with the ingredients—adjusting seasoning to taste and adding your own twists based on what you have on hand. It's also about creating a meal that brings comfort and can be shared with loved ones, embodying the spirit of Italian home cooking: a celebration of food, family, and community.

 

>>Get Carmen's pizzuliati recipe here!<<

 

 

 

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