Lindsay Marie Morris

Olive oil may be a staple in Italian cooking, but baking with olive oil has become popular in recent years. 

 

Sicilian grandmothers are likely shaking their heads. After all, Mediterranean people have long used olive oil as a fat for sweet and savory recipes. It's been used to prepare food since at least the 4th century B.C.

 

Baking with olive oil adds moisture and can heighten the flavor of baked goods. It's also better for your heart, says the American Heart Association, which recommends choosing healthier fats like olive oil over saturated fats like butter to lower your cardiovascular risk.   

 

Blogger Stephanie Mormina is a baking-with-olive-oil believer. I recently stumbled on her lovely Sicilian citrus olive oil cake recipe, and I just had to learn more. 

Stephanie's father hails from the town of Cattolica Eraclea in the Province of Agrigento. Being half Sicilian has influenced her love for citrus fruits, which she says pair nicely with olive oil when baking. 

We chatted about her lovely cake recipe, its inspiration, and how baking with olive oil affects texture and taste.

 

 

What inspired your Sicilian citrus olive oil cake?

It's actually a combination of different recipes I found online. I was attracted to it because you can add whatever citrus you want. I like to add a combination of orange and lemon. And then, in my zest, I'll sometimes put in a little bit of lime because lime has a different flavor. It takes you in a different direction. And it looks pretty in the glaze when you have a little fleck of green along with the orange and the yellow. The great thing about any olive oil cake is that not only does olive oil go extremely well with citrus, but it's also a cake that remains moist for a very long time. 

 

Why is olive oil used in some Sicilian baking?

They had many olive groves there and just used what they had. They weren't using much animal fat, at least in my dad's family, because they ate vegetables most of the time. They were eating more peasant food. So it was lots of vegetables, olive oil, whatever was available.  

 

How does olive oil affect texture and moisture?

It is a little more dense, but in a pleasant way. It is more moist and less crumbly than a butter cake or a cake. And it holds the moisture for days. It'll be fresh for much longer than a traditional cake.

 

How does olive oil affect the taste compared to vegetable or canola oil?

Canola keeps things neutral. But in a cake with citrus, you don't mind a little bit of flavor, but you still need to be careful what olive oil you choose. 

I like to choose one with a milder flavor. I don't choose the ones that are very full-bodied, thick, and peppery. I stay away from those, even for texture, because if your olive oil is too thick and heavy, it will bring down the cake. Olive oil cakes are already a little flatter, in my experience. 

 

I use Tunisian olive oil. It's not Italian olive oil, but it is the best because it has the olive oil flavor without being overpowering or too heavy. 

 

What do you hope at-home bakers will take away from your recipe?

I want them to appreciate the flavor of the olive oil in conjunction with the other ingredients, especially citrus. I have to say that the flavor combination is just perfect. Again, one of the benefits of having that moisture is that it has a prolonged shelf life. 

I know that it's not really used in traditional baking. It's more of a European thing, and I hope people start using it more in baking.

 

 

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Cultivated since ancient times and even believed to be the forbidden fruit of the Garden of Eden, the fig occupies a special place in Mediterranean history and tradition. 

Recognized for its bulbous shape with a small opening, the ostiole, at its base, the common fig is the edible fruit of the ficus carica—a flowering plant species in the mulberry family. 
 

While figs hold a special place on Sicilian dessert tables, they're rich in potassium and calcium, which benefit bone health. The fruit even provides significant amounts of iron, potassium, and magnesium.

What's not to love? It's no wonder many gardeners choose to grow fig trees. 

"It's a plant we've been connected with for a really long time, which is why people become so fascinated by it," says One Green World Nursery Manager Sam Huber. "We share a deep, rich history with it, and it's such a unique plant that comes in many forms. It's exciting to find one that thrives in your area. And it's fairly easy to grow, too."  

Oregon-based One Green World sells a variety of so-called Mount Etna Sicilian figs, including the Sangue Dolce and the Natalina. They also sell a fig called the Chicago Hardy, which is originally from Sicily but easily takes root in colder areas in the northern U.S.

Sam and I recently had a chance to chat about all things Sicilian fig-related. 

 

 

Tell us about One Green World.

The nursery was built on extensive plant exploration and searching the world. With the advent of the internet and the availability of so much information, more varieties and cultivars are available than ever before. We've been continuing in that tradition, looking for new things both here and abroad.

 

You grow Sicilian figs. Can you share more about your offerings?

The lines of where things developed and whatnot are a little bit blurry, but there's a loose grouping of a certain type of fig, a smaller purple fig with a red interior that just gets called the Mount Etna figs. It's very similar to the ones people have been growing for a long time in Sicily. There, they're grown at 1,000-2,000-foot elevation—so high in elevation that those varieties do well for more northern growers. It's been super cool to see how they thrive in Sicily, of course, but also here.
 

They're just really wonderful. Everybody likes different things. I really like the dark, jammy figs with the red interior. Sicily also grows a white one that's more of a honey fig. And, of course, there are just wild ones growing everywhere. The fig has just naturalized around much of the Mediterranean and California.

Figs have two crops: the breba crop, which ripens on previous years' wood, and the main crop, which is on new growth. Etna figs have been such a winner for folks in more northern climates because they may have a touch more cold hardiness. 

In Oregon, we don't typically get cold enough to have killing frost that would kill off wood on our fig trees. Because they ripen the main crop really early, it's on the new growth. But there's a fig called Chicago Hardy, which is just another Mount Etna type that was found in Chicago and hardy enough to withstand some winters there. 

What's unique about them is you can have them get frosted back really hard, or people will do extreme things to overwinter them on places like the East Coast, like cut them back really hard. Some people will even tip them over and bury them, and then the trees still shoot out new growth and produce figs that year. Because the main crop grows all on the new growth, all you need is something that's sending off new growth because they ripen so early and don't need as much heat coming from a higher elevation place. It makes it a good, reliable one for folks who are more on the fringe of where figs would otherwise grow. 

 

What are the ideal conditions for growing Sicilian fig varieties?

The Mount Etna ones, in particular, are adaptable. But if it gets wet in the fall, the fig will just split. Generally, it's a dry summer climate that helps all figs thrive.

It's similar to where we grow grapes in the world. The Mediterranean climate of wet, mild winters and then pretty warm, dry summers concentrates the flavor and prevents the fig from splitting. 

The fig isn't actually a fruit; it's this weird inside-out flower. So it's very different when it's ripening. It's very easy for it to split if there's too much water or after it's been dry. When you get a big heavy rainfall, you'll sometimes see that little eye of the fig, the ostiole, split open. 

So fig trees generally need a dry climate with enough heat units; you need a good bit of warmth to ripen most varieties. We've been searching for ones that do well in cooler climates, but typically, if you're in California, they can ripen way more than we do in Oregon. It needs a dry summer and a mild winter—not so cold that it kills off the tree. Because below zero, they get pretty damaged.

 

Which regions are best for growing Sicilian figs?

Oregon's Willamette Valley will probably be one of the best spots outside of California, which is just the ideal fig-growing region in the country. 

Most parts of the continent don't have the dry summer that we do. But people grow them on the East Coast; there are many old fig trees on the East Coast because people brought them when they were emigrating. That's encouraged growers there to continue finding hardy varieties.

It's a classic story: People who sneaked a fig tree in with them. And so that's why you have all these various trees of unknown origin that were planted by immigrants way back in the day and are still surviving. Then, people go and clone those that proved themselves in harsher climates.  

 

What are some ways to enjoy figs?

Certainly, fresh eating is one of the best ways because it's one of the more fragile perishable fruits when they're perfectly ripe. But once your tree's really cranking, there are more figs than you can just eat fresh. 

Aside from fresh eating, people make jams with them and make dried figs. Drying figs is one the best ways to preserve them so that you have those carbohydrates and sugars for wintertime.

People get creative, doing just all sorts of weird things. There is a brewery in Texas called Jester King, where they could not get enough figs. They used them to make fermented beers with all these different fruits thrown in.

The possibilities are somewhat endless. People make concentrates and different syrups from them, but I feel like jams and dehydration for dried figs are probably the most common.

 

What do you want people to take away when they buy a One Green World fig tree?

Above all, we just want people to be successful in their gardening. Planting a tree is a pretty big commitment. They're not super cheap, and you have to dedicate water and energy to keeping them alive. 

During the COVID pandemic, when all these people started getting into gardening, people would come to us having never grown any trees before. And they'd always want to grow peaches, nectarines, and apricots, some of the most delicious, tasty fruits you can grow. But those, in particular, do poorly here. And so we would always say, "Why don't you try growing a fig, a persimmon, a grape, or something that's just a little easier and better adapted for our part of the world?" I feel like we're often telling folks just to learn to love the things that really want to grow well here.

Aside from just really wanting people to succeed with their gardens and grow something that they're going to find success with and be really happy with in terms of it being reliable, easy, and delicious, there are so many stories attached to all these things, as there have always been with plants. It's just a cool way to preserve stories, whether they are more recent or older ones. And for us, too, it's like a botanical journal. When we're on these trips and collecting things or doing road trips around California, they really encapsulate a time period for us.  

Fig trees have deep origin stories; maybe that was the tree from the Garden of Eden. We've been intertwined with this plant for a really long time. 

 

 

 

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For 89 years, San Francisco's La Società di Maria Santissima del Lume has organized Festa delle Madonna del Lume, a grand celebration/memoriam patterned after the original held in Porticello, Sicily.

In addition to serving as a Sicilian-American festival dedicated to Porticello's patroness, the event honors fishermen who were lost or perished at sea. 

Sicilian-American Brianna Dorio Wraa's grandfather was one of those lost. His daughter, Brianna's mother, was just 11 years old when his fishing boat was caught in a swell, and he disappeared off the coast of one of the Farallon Islands. A few years later, the then-teenager found comfort and fellowship within La Società di Maria Santissima del Lume and began attending the group's annual Festa. It's become a family affair. 

Last weekend, Brianna proudly stood before her community for the second year in a row, wearing the crown of Festa della Madonna del Lume Queen. For her, it was an honor and a way to pay tribute to her grandfather's memory. Next month, it will be 50 years since his disappearance. 

Following the festivities, I caught up with Brianna, who is pursuing a degree in communications studies with a minor in human resources management at the University of Nevada-Reno, to chat about the significance of the event, how she became Queen, and her fondest Festa memory.  

 

 

How did you become Festa Queen?

For me, it was a little different than normal. My family has always gone to the Festa della Madonna del Lume, and we always saw the queen and the princesses, and everyone wanted to be that. 

Knowing that it was coming up on 50 years with my grandfather's passing, I wanted to do something to honor his memory more than just going to the event. So, I reached out to Rose Cannizzaro, one of our co-presidents.

She said this was great because many people in my generation aren't really focused on preserving the tradition. They usually have younger queens—middle school to high school-aged range—which is great, but when they're finished, they still have a bunch of school left. There's only so much you can do when you're a kid. 

But as an adult, I knew that I wanted to preserve this. I want to make sure that tradition continues for as long as possible. I know it means so much to my family. There are so many people for whom it means so much.

When I joined the committee last year, I immediately started running. A couple of months after I joined the committee, they were having a fundraiser. We got raffle baskets, and we got the centerpieces done. And they were impressed that I was able to get so much done in such little time. Rose and Antonia San Filippo-Ferretti are not only co-presidents of the organization, but Antonia was also the queen and maiden director.

Both called me on a three-way call, and they said, "We would be honored if you were our queen." It was definitely a surprise. I said, "Oh my gosh, I'd love to; I'd be honored."

This organization is special for two reasons. One reason is to honor the Madonna and the very religious aspect. The other side is to honor the fishermen like my grandfather, who were lost at sea. It just meant a lot to be Queen. 

I was able to find girls to be maidens for the court. I've expanded the court, so now we have six maidens. (Last year, we had three maidens.) And we already have girls talking about joining next year. It's nice to see that progression.

I think the committee was just so impressed that I was able to do so much being so young and being so dedicated already that they were like, "This girl is the perfect example of what it means to be dedicated, to honor our organization, and to portray our organization in a great way."

 

What are your responsibilities as Queen?

I actually changed the way that Queen is thought of. In the past, it was really just for the events and to have a young representation there. So, there weren't really any roles associated with it before I came in. And I set things in stone for the future in a way because, besides being Queen, I am still on the committee and go to the monthly meetings we have. I also am one of the fundraising chairs. So, I work with Antonia to find sponsors for our events.

I try to get the word out. I am the person who runs our social media, our Facebook and Instagram. I am also a co-director of the court. I am super involved, and I will stay involved. And especially with next year being the 90th year, it's really a huge year for us. 

 

What does Madonna del Lume mean to you personally?

People always talk about how Madonna de Luma shone the light down on the fishermen to help bring them back home. The Madonna can mean so many different things, but for those from fishing families, that's the most heartfelt part. Part of the reason some people come is because of the fishermen who never made it back. I grew up hearing my mom's stories. She was 11, so you know what's happening at that age, but you don't at the same time. I remember her talking about how, in the case of my grandfather, he was just going to show his friend and his friend's son how to do his line of work on a new boat. He was a drag fisherman. 

A swell just came, and it was too big for the boat they had. The Coast Guard searched 24/7 for two weeks, and then, after those two weeks, they called it off.

It was hard. My grandmother was a stay-at-home mom, and she was a widow at 32. She had to not only take care of her children but also compose herself in a way after losing the love of her life.  

Our organization is super-small compared to Porticello's. The entire procession is huge and so focused on the Madonna. I think our organization finds a way to do both.

There are many ways to pray to the Madonna because she is the Mother of Light. It's not just about fishermen returning to shore. It's also about when there's so much darkness in your world, and you need a beacon of light or that light at the end of the tunnel mindset. She is that.

A woman from one of the families associated with our organization went through several miscarriages, and a family member prayed to the Madonna. After they started praying to the Madonna, she got pregnant and was able to conceive and carry to full-term a child. 

I know it means so many different things for so many different families. That's something that's great about the organization: It could mean so many different things, but we all find our way back to the light at the end of the tunnel, in a way.

 

Can you share a special memory from a past Festa?

Next month is going to be 50 years since my grandfather was lost at sea. I actually had a wreath made in honor of him and surprised my mom with that. And she absolutely had no clue. 

For the past month, we have been running around doing a bunch of different things to get ready for this Festa. She kept saying this year, "I need to get a wreath made. I need to get flowers. I need to do this. I need to do that. I need to do all these things."

Because I'm in Reno, I flew on Thursday night and had Thursday and Friday, and then the Festa was on Saturday and Sunday. So there wasn't really a lot of time to get flowers or make a wreath. I remembered someone I know, a beginner florist, and I asked her. She had never done a wreath before, and she was like, "I can try, but I've only done bouquets." And I was like, "Anything is better than nothing at this point."

So we worked together, and it turned out amazing. My friend Gracie came in on Saturday to spend the day with us, and I was like, "Hey, on your way to my house, can you pick up this wreath I had made from my mom? It's a surprise."

I knew my mom was so stressed and worked up. On Friday night, she said, "I never got flowers. I never got a wreath made." And she was really upset about it. 

Then my mom walked into the living room Saturday morning, right before we were about to leave, and she saw the wreath and said, "Wait."

She turned to my friend and said, "Did you make this?" 

Gracie said, "No, Brianna had it made. I just picked it up." My mom started bawling. 

Obviously, you don't want to make your mom cry, but in a way, I think the rush of emotions just hit her. 

There were also a lot of overflowing emotions just because this is something I've always wanted. Being Queen of this organization, representing this organization, and representing my family have always been very important to me. 

Usually, they have the outgoing queen crown the incoming queen. But last year, because they found out my family's history and that my mom had recently just finished radiation for breast cancer and had missed the year prior, they asked my mom, "Do you want to crown Brianna?"

There's a picture of her crowning me in Saints Peter and Paul's Church. Those are two memories that I'll definitely always have.

 

What do you hope to share with the broader community?

Even though everything is about being Sicilian and Italian, we are inclusive of everything else. I will also say that even though we love our traditions and keep to them as much as possible, it's so great to see us expanding. And I know that next year, being the 90th year, it's going to be our biggest year yet.

We've already talked to different organizations about creating an entire gallery for next year. It is going to be really exciting to share all the past photos and commemorate the fact that this has been happening for 90 years. We've always been a smaller organization, and it comes together. We love our traditions, but we also love creating new traditions.

 

 

 

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Restauranteur's daughter and former restaurant owner Suzanne Lo Coco doesn't recommend people get into the restaurant business.

 

"You need a lot of raw talent, and you need to be willing to put in all that time and hard work and long hours and miss weddings and parties and everything else and have your hands burned several times over and still work through a shift," she says. 

 

She's done all that and then some, having run the popular La Fornaretta in Pasadena, California, for nearly ten years before new landlords purchased her lease in order to repurpose the building. She also watched her father's challenging rise from immigrant to successful owner of Lo Coco restaurants. 

 

Still, despite their mother's misgivings, Suzanne's sons, Gian Luca and Gilberto Di Lorenzo, have carried on the tradition at La Fornaretta in Newcastle, California. And Gian Luca has invited Suzanne to join him in a new pasta-making venture he's started with her brother Frank.  

 

"I feel very complimented that they asked me to do that," Suzanne says. 

 

There will undoubtedly be more stories to tell for this Washington resident, who recently published the deliciously entertaining memoir Secret Dough. Drawing from the wit and wisdom of her late father, Giovanni Lo Coco, Suzanne shares her journey to self-discovery flavored with Sicilian traditions, relationship drama, and humorous stories. She's even thrown in a handful of recipes to savor between page turns. 

 

Suzanne is what we call a paesana. Giovanni came to the U.S. from Porticello, Sicily, the same village as my grandparents, and Suzanne has returned often.

 

We sat down for an entertaining chat about Porticello, the book's namesake dough, her writing inspiration, balancing personal and professional life, her favorite Giovanni aphorisms, and what she hopes readers will take away.   

 

 

What are your memories of Porticello?

The first time I went there, I was a baby. My parents drove across the United States and took the Michelangelo ship to Napoli and then to Sicily. They were there for two months, and I have absolutely no recollection of this trip whatsoever.

 

When I was 10, I returned with my dad for two weeks. When we got on the plane and took Alitalia from San Francisco to Rome and then Rome Palermo, he ordered me my own bottle of Asti spumante as soon as the plane lifted off the ground.

 

And he says, "This is an Italian plane, and now you are in Italy. The air… It's not America anymore. The air doesn't belong to anybody. Now we are on an Italian plane, so we are in Italy. You can drink with your papà."

 

The flight attendant didn't even bat an eye. He brought me my flute and bottle, and I drank that whole thing. Then, I crashed for several hours.
 

Every day when we were in Sicily, we'd drive from Palermo to Porticello and hang out. And everything is kind of mind-blowing to an 11-year-old who has only ever been in America, and all of a sudden, you're in Sicily.

 

I remember that at that time, there were a lot fewer cars and less traffic. And there were still women laying out those giant pieces of plywood propped up on sawhorses used to make tomato paste.

 

I remember swimming in the sea with my dad every day and him diving for ricci, sea urchins. I couldn't believe how long he could stay underwater! His cousins made pasta con ricci with his catch.

 

I remember going to the open fish markets—those giant swordfish on display made such an impression on me. Every town had its own frutta e verdura guy and fresh fish stand. And then, just randomly, there's this popup with a very round man under the tent tossing fresh octopus into these giant vats of boiling water with lemon halves bobbing around on the top. There are no women, just men at the counter that is set up with beautifully painted ceramic plates, lemon wedges and salt shakers. They are all spouting off in Sicilian, yelling and talking all at the same time while eating their octopus.

 

My dad stuffed things in my mouth throughout that whole trip. He stuffed a piece of octopus in my mouth, and I was horrified. They cut into the brains and that brown mushy stuff… Oh my God! I just remember swallowing it whole.

 

I remember the first time I had pane e panelle, and then I had to have it every day. I just loved the arancini and eating ice cream every day.
 

So, for me, when the plane lands in Rome… Sure, you're in Italy, and you're excited. But when the plane flies into Palermo, I feel like I'm at home. It really does pull on your heartstrings to go there, to be there—the sights, the smells.

 

After my dad retired, he spent half the year in Sicily. He happened to be there when he passed away, so we buried him there. Now, when I go to Sicily, I feel like I am visiting him. I'm so happy that he introduced us to this magical island and that it is part of our lives.

 

Tell us about your family. When and why did they leave Porticello for California?

My grandfather Gaetano Lo Coco was a professor of philosophy, but he was also, I guess, very instrumental in local politics and trying to advocate for the fishermen. His father was a fisherman. 

 
My grandfather used to own the land where Solunto is. It was full of olive and citrus orchards, climbing up the mountain behind Porticello. He was not a businessman or materialistic in any way—he was a true philosopher. 

 

Before selling the land, my dad's dream was to build a pizzeria and nightclub at the top of the mountain. My grandfather did not support this idea, which was very upsetting to him. For this reason, he decided to leave for America to pursue his dream of owning his own business. Funny—eventually, someone opened a pizzeria atop that mountain and became very successful!

 

When my father left, he ended up living with cousins for a couple of months in San Francisco's North Beach, where he had to teach himself English. He worked three jobs, seven days a week, both lunch and dinner shifts at various Fisherman's Wharf restaurants.

 

He met my mother about a year after he came to the States. They ended up getting married very quickly and starting a family. Shortly after they married, his cousin Domenic, whom he had lived with, recommended, "Giovanni, if you could come up with a really great pizza recipe, you will be very successful." 

 

Domenic planted the seed in his head: "I need to come up with a pizza recipe."

 

After a visit to Jackson, California my dad fell in love with the town, as it reminded him of scenes from old Western movies he had grown up with. So they moved there and opened their first pizzeria. That's where his secret dough recipe was born.

 

Let's talk about the significance of that dough; it's what you named your memoir.

So, there is a whole chapter on that in the book.

 

My parents divorced in 1977, maybe '78. Afterward, a gentleman named Eugene deChristopher came into the restaurant. He had been eating Lo Coco's Pizza in Marin County. He actually first approached my uncles, and they sent him over to my dad. So, he came into the restaurant in Pleasant Hill.

 

So Eugene comes to the restaurant and tells my dad, "This is a great product, and I think we can do something with it. Have you ever thought about marketing it like this or that?"

 

Initially, my dad thought, "Well, maybe we should open up franchises."

 

At the time, you had places like Pizza Hut and Shakey's and this and that. But still, if you go in and order a pizza, it's going to take some time. You can't get a pizza at the same time as a hamburger, right?

 

But my dad thought we could cut some of this production time in half by having a crust that's already half-baked and ready to be topped. He came up with this idea to speed up the pizza process.

 

He originally thought, "We'll start with universities and make all these really small, self-serve pizzerias."

 

The idea evolved from there.

 

Then Eugene said, "Well, we could package it. And then what about selling it in grocery stores?"

 

They created a company that was originally called PizzAmore.

 

Meanwhile, they are still in the developing phase, coming up with packaging ideas and reaching out to different companies for meetings. Eugene is sending in his son all the time, who hangs out at the pizza counter and watches night after night. One night, he was watching my dad make pizza and asked, "I don't understand, Giovanni; how do you get those bubbles on the crust?"

 

My dad, with his thick accent, responded, "That's the boboli—the cheese—it melts on the crust and makes the boboli."

 

The Boboli chapter of my book illustrates the "origins" of the pizza shell and the partnership between my father and Eugene. The company has since sold many times, and we wish them well.

 

What inspired you to write your memoir?

I was in my first marriage, and we were going through a very rocky time. Someone gave me Ruth Reichl's book Comfort Me with Apples, and it really inspired me.

 

I thought, "I have stories like this!"

 

So, I started writing, having been inspired by her books and also just as an outlet. And I always enjoyed writing.

 

I always enjoyed creative writing classes and writing term papers in school. I enjoyed the whole process of crafting a good story. Growing up in the restaurant business, one is naturally groomed to become a storyteller.

 

I interviewed my dad a lot when I started that process over twenty years ago. But this book is not that book. I did finish that. Many years later, I went back to school, and with all the required writing and reading, I sharpened my skills.

 

A couple of instructors had pulled me aside and said, "Do you do a lot of writing? I have to tell you, it's really a pleasure reading your papers."

 

I went back to school at 42 years old. I had an AA degree, but it still took me four years to get my BA.

 
I was raising kids and working, so I couldn't take a full load. I'd take three or four classes at a time.

 

Two years into school, I divorced but continued working at the restaurant until I got my degree. A few months before graduation, I met and started dating Stuart, who I eventually married. After we married, we moved to Tahoe and bought these two little houses. We lived in one of them, and I rented the other on Airbnb. Early on, one of my first guests was Cheryl Angelina Koehler, from the Bay Area, who was the publisher, editor, and designer for Edible East Bay Magazine.

 

Having had many false starts on writing a book, now that I had the time, I once again started dabbling in writing. I held so many stories in my head. I said, "I really want to do this."

 

So when Cheryl checked in, my mind went immediately to" I've got to meet this lady!"

 

But something about having her land on my doorstep ignited this hope and excitement within me.

 

I thought, "Somehow, this lady is going to help me in this process, to get this going, and to get this moving in the right direction."

 

I was dying to say something to her, but I didn't know how to approach the subject of my writing. Finally, just as they were checking out, she asked, "Can we meet your dogs?"

 

We got into this conversation, and I asked Cheryl, "You're from the East Bay. Well, do you go to Lo Coco's?"

 

We got into this discussion about Lo Coco's and then into a discussion about my dad. When I get into Giovanni Lo Coco's stories, I become very animated. I mean, there are so many good stories. He really was such a unique character.

 

She says, "That is pretty incredible. You should really write down some of these stories. Just start writing. I would love to help you. You can send me what you have, and I'll read it over."

 
I couldn't believe my good fortune. Of all the places in Tahoe she could have rented, this was the one. It was a sign! I needed to finally write and try to publish my memoir.

 
It took me months. I wrote about four chapters and then sat on them for months. I didn't have the nerve to send them to her, and I didn't think they'd be good enough.

 

Finally, my husband was like, "You've got to send this to her. Just send them. What do you have to lose?"

 

I sent her what I had, and she encouraged me to keep going. I continued sending bits and pieces and then decided to hold off until I finished the book. 

 

After three years, I forwarded her the final chapters, and she said, "Oh my God, you finished!"

 

That really excited her, and she went through it. Then suddenly, our process and our relationship shifted, and it really turned into a writer-editor relationship.

 

Tell us about your book's cover.

Well, as you can see on the cover of the book I sent Cheryl, I wanted to incorporate a lot of these articles. It was her brilliant idea to plaster them all over the book in a collage-type way. That basically makes up the cover. And then I wanted to include an "I like Lo Coco's Pizza" pin on there.

Whenever my father's restaurant was written up, they always wanted a photograph of our Lo Coco's special, which was pepperoni, artichoke heart, green onion, and anchovy, because it was such a pretty pizza—just aesthetically, it's just the colors.

So, I said it has to be the Lo Coco special on the front. So, last spring, I went into my boys' restaurant and made a pizza. My husband, who is actually a professional photographer, took the picture of the pizza.

There are many old family photos peppered throughout the book. They help tell the story.

 

You sprinkled pearls of wisdom from your father throughout the book. Can you share a couple?

Each chapter starts with something that my father used to tell me, using sayings or dictums instead of telling you straight what you need to do, like "You always leave the taste of honey in the mouth," meaning don't burn bridges.

 

Or "Be stupid inside and smart outside." My dad was of the philosophy that the world was out to get you, so you need to stick together.

 

How do you balance life's personal and professional aspects in your storytelling?

When I knew this book was complete and we were going to launch, I was overcome with a panic I did not expect to have when I started this process. It had been a pipe dream for so long, and now it was really happening. I was second-guessing myself. Maybe it's not good enough; maybe people will hate it; maybe my family will be upset.

 

This book is so different from my first few attempts. I was sort of all over the place—mingling dad stories with my own stories. After reviewing some of my work, my sister commented, "I don't hear your voice." She asked, "Is this about Dad, or is this about you?"

 

I didn't have much confidence in telling my story. I never even thought about that. But then I thought, well, actually, there is a lot to say and a lot to tell.

 

I didn't write the book to bash anybody, and I don't bash anyone. But sometimes, people, including myself, are not shown in a good light because if you're writing a memoir, you can't just talk about the good things; that's not realistic. Life is messy.

 

What do you hope that people take away from reading your book?

Well, I hope it humors and entertains people, and I hope it's relatable. I hope it reminds people to treat themselves with more kindness and forgiveness. We all have dark periods in our lives; we make mistakes. I strived to be very authentic and offer readers an intimate glimpse into the life of a Sicilian-American restaurant family. I introduced intriguing, fun characters, like my immigrant dad and my ex-husband.

 

There are so many misunderstandings about Sicily and Sicilians, and I hope this book helps Americans gain more appreciation for this place and its people whom I love so dearly. Finally, I hope that Secret Dough inspires people. As illustrated in the book, one can walk through a lot of crap and still come out smelling like a rose.

 

I hope it makes people laugh and feel many emotions. It's just a good, fun read.  

 

>>Get Secret Dough here!<<

 

 

 

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Antonio Bertone arrives at our interview wearing a sweatshirt that reads, "Boxed Wine Is Not a Crime." He hopes this slogan will stick and help people choose more sustainable boxed beverages like his Alileo Wines. 

Cofounded by Antonio and his wife, Alexandra Drane, the Boston-based boxed natural wine company produces award-winning West Coast Sicilian varietals in partnership with Bertone's family in Sicily and imports them to the United States, where they are distributed in Massachusetts, New York, Vermont, New Hampshire, and Texas. 

Antonio shared what inspired Alileo's creation, what makes his wines unique, and why boxed wine.

 

 

What is your background?

My father emigrated from Molise, and my mom emigrated from Partanna, Sicily. When I was in the second grade, my parents decided to move us back. My sister and I were born here in the United States. 

My mom was very homesick. She was the only one from her family that left and came to America. My dad's entire family ultimately ended up in the States. 

So, we moved back, and I did my second to fourth grades of elementary school in Sicily and all my summers. Then, after my dad passed, my mom kind of moved back for half the year, so she would do June to December in Sicily and then December to June back in the U.S. That went on for 30 years until she passed. 

 

What inspired Alileo's creation?

We were in COVID lockdown, and my mom was battling cancer. I think she felt this fear or sadness that once she passed, the connection to Sicily would start to degrade or disappear because I'm the last one left in America, representing the Sicilian side. 

So, my wife and I started talking about starting a wine company with our cousin Rosario, a winemaker in Sicily. 

Over the years, we have always joked about it at the dinner table and about how nice it would be. We all enjoyed those conversations in the kitchen. My kids got into it; they were like, "That could be so cool."

We came up with the name and the product's USP. We started it, kicked into making-things mode, and worked with some designer friends in London to design the packaging. We started getting ready for the first shipment, and then my mom passed. The first shipment, our first 40-foot container, actually arrived on her birthday the following year. So it was pretty magical that the wine has this eternal connection to her. 

 

What's been your goal with Alileo Wines?

For our wine, we wanted to make a low-intervention, natural wine. We wanted to make something that didn't have junk in it and sugar and all the crap that gives you headaches. And we wanted to bring a younger audience into wine.

 

Wine is as old as time. The simpler the wine-making, the better, in my opinion.  

 

Your wine is low-sulfite. Why is that important?

You're dealing with a low-intervention wine, which has a greatly reduced amount of sulfites in the wine. The grapes themselves produce a certain amount of sulfites, and for you to get some sort of shelf life, you have to work with some form of SO2. So we keep ours at the bare minimum, which is around 55 parts per million. The standard natural wine is 150 parts per million. Commercial wines are in the four hundreds and five hundreds, which sometimes causes people headaches and some of the negative side effects of wine. 

 

Why did you choose to box your wines?

I come from a consumer products background. As a marketeer, I'm better against the grain than I am with the grain. Sustainability is a key discussion to get a younger audience interested. 

Sicily's on fire right now; it's still 40 degrees Celsius daily. So it's important to put your money where your mouth is and act in a more sustainable or responsible manner. 

In my previous careers, I always drove toward a more sustainable point of view. In our product creation, our ambition is to be a B Corp, and the box in and of itself is way more functional. Once you open a box, the wine's still good for 30 to 45 days. Transport costs are a fraction. Think about the overall energy it takes to make a glass bottle rather than just a cardboard box and a bladder. 

People are like, "Boxed wine?" The rest of the world is fine with the format. It's just in America and weird days at college, slamming Franzia that has forever created this stigma. So we're here to change it.

 

How does your wine compare to other Sicilian wines?

I think my cousin has a special gift. When you hear about natural wines, people start to think funky and weird. And no knock to the really experimental winemakers, but we're making a commercial product. We're using grapes that are synonymous with our side of the island. 

Our most popular wine is zibibbo macerato, a skin-contact wine made out of a grape that's usually used to make dessert wine. Our zibibbo is very dry tasting and drinks super lovely, all because of Rosario and his skills. 

I come from farmers. My mom's side of the family were all grape and olive farmers. My dad was a farmer before he came to America. He had livestock. He had sheep, horses, and cows. So we ate incredibly well. Even though we had no money, we never knew that we didn't have any money. Because we basically produced all the things that we consumed. So to make something that's as simple but delicious and has its own profile and point of view, I think suits us. 

 

What are your future plans?

We launched boxed water as well. We were doing a lot of popups, and it was interesting to find the format. Single-use plastic, under a certain measurement, is being banned in a lot of communities around the oceans.

Right now, we're in five states. Funny enough, we don't sell in Italy. Next year, we will start selling in six European countries. 

We're trying to grow and occupy a place in the wine retail channel that serves good food. We really want to have a good connection to good cuisine.  

 

What experience do you hope people have with your wines?

I hope they're enjoying themselves, eating something nice, and having a nice conversation. That's the overall goal: bringing people together. 

 

 

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Memphis-based Sicilian-American singer Michela Musolino has toured the world, performing in medieval castles, ancient temples, New York City landmarks, and national folk festivals. She's recorded traditional and contemporary Sicilian folk songs and roots music. She's even branched out into something she calls "Sicilian folk-a-billy." But no matter where she stands and how she sings, her heart remains in Sicily. 

"I really feel like I got my start in Sicily," Michela says. "I probably performed more in Sicily in the beginning than here. Nobody knew who I was here, but in Sicily, I had already performed at festivals and temples. They welcomed me so beautifully. So, I always feel that even though I performed a lot in New York for many years, Sicily was more like the home for what I do."

Michela and I recently chatted about her traditional Sicilian-American upbringing and how that shaped who she would become. She shared her favorite venue, experience, and what inspired her foray into "Sicilian folk-a-billy." And because Michela's a walking encyclopedia of Sicilian folk music, we discussed the people and traditions that shaped the songs she sings today. 

 

 

Tell us about your background.

My family is Sicilian. I have one grandpa who is from Calabria, so I'm one-quarter Calabrese. My other grandparents are Sicilian. My mom's dad was from Borgetto, which is about 40 minutes away from Palermo. My mom's mom was raised in Palermo by a Palermitano father, but she was actually born in Argentina. My grandmother's father took her back to Sicily when she was young so she could be raised. Her mom died when she was young, so her father took her back to Sicily so his family could raise her in Palermo, and she grew up in Palermo. And my dad's mom was from a town in the province of Agrigento called Ribera. I still have a lot of family there. My grandpa was born in Reggio Calabria, a town called Calanna.

 

How did you get started?

I have always been very enamored with my heritage. My mom and dad always talked about our family history and told us all the stories of our family. 

My dad was a big fan of American music, especially American country music, Italian-American artists, and Italian music. So we heard a lot of music in the house. 

I grew up hearing Sicilian, hearing the language, because my parents, aunts, and uncles all spoke that to my grandparents. 

When I was all grown up and married and out of the house, I took a workshop for folk dance in New York City, and the people who were running were in the folk company, I Giullari di Piazza, and they asked me to audition. The director of the company, Alessandra Belloni, asked me to audition. They needed extra people in their theater company. I auditioned, and I remember coming home and telling my dad, not even that I was auditioning for the show or anything, but that I was studying folk dance and frame drumming. 

 

He said, "Well, it's good. You should study drumming because that's your tradition. That's what women do."

 

It was strange hearing that from my father because he was not very big on defining women's roles. He was very progressive and open. And I said, "What are you talking about?"

 

He said, "Your grandma used to drum."

I said, "Wait a second…."

He said, "Your grandma had a drum."

"As a matter of fact," he says, "when your grandma came here when she was a young woman, she brought a drum with her. And your great grandma, when she was in Sicily, was known for her dancing."

So these things are in us. Then it's been this wild ride. It's still a wild ride every day, just doing something I love: working with music.

 

What is it about Sicilian music that drew you in?

I just adore Sicilian music, and it's been interesting because I'm exploring it from all different aspects and doing all different things to create things with this music. And when I try to do different projects, they only go so far. When I try to do projects outside of Sicilian music, they only go so far. And I was involved in some projects up until about last year, and there was veering off the path of Sicilian music, and all of a sudden, all these things started to happen. All these opportunities for other creative projects or other performances came all at once. It was like Sicily pulled me back. We're not done with you yet.

 

Describe your experiences in the different types of venues.

It sounds kind of cliche, but I find each venue and experience more enriching than the last, even if it's not the same. Let's say maybe one venue is a beautiful theater and it is full, or another venue is a very small locale. Each show has its importance and its connection, and it has its meaning. But the thing that I think had the biggest impact on me is that I feel it, and it really charted my course, something that had a huge, huge influence on me because, to this day, I'm still living the repercussions of it. It was when I performed in the temples in Sicily, and I did that for several summers. I went to a festival by chance.   

I was there to do some research and to work with some musicologists, and I had my daughter. She was very little then, and I had to change the course of my trip; I thought I was going to just go see my friend, Alfio Antico, perform in Selinunte. And when I got there, yes, Alfio performed that night, but it was in the evening dedicated to the memory of a Sicilian singer/songwriter by the name of Pino Veneziano. And I fell in love with the music that they were playing. 

 

By then, Pino was already deceased by a number of years, but they were playing his music that night. I remember my daughter falling asleep at the concert, and I walked back. I was talking to the people in the Pino Veneziano Association, and I said, "Listen, I'm a singer. I'm from New York. I'm friends with Alfio. Look, he's on my album."

I pulled one of my albums from my bag, and I'm trying to carry my daughter in one hand while she is asleep. I love this music. What can I do? I want to sing it.

They're like, "Here's the album; just sing it."

So, from that night, I met friends of mine who are still my dear friends that I would go back to see. Just going back to those temples and doing that year after year after year became a big turning point in my life. But it's also a big part of my life. And it was strange for me because this summer, I was in Sicily, and I was very, very busy on the other side of the island.

I spent time at the foot of Etna, and it was a beautiful experience, but it felt weird. I was apprehensive about going because I'd become so used to being in the protective embrace of these temples for years. 

Even when it wasn't summertime, and I wasn't performing, I'd be there. I would go, and I still had to visit the temples. I still talked to my friends and visited my friends in that area. So, that venue had a profound, profound influence on my life. And as I said, from that experience, going back there summer after summer created lifelong friendships, collaborations, and a richness of music I discovered. 

I was able to do a lot of research, and I feel that it's still ongoing. Those temples, even when I wasn't on that part of the island, were somehow still impacting me. I feel that what I achieved on the other part of the island I would've never done if it wasn't for all those experiences I had in the temples. 

 

You've developed a style you call "Sicilian Folk-a-Billy." What inspired that?

What happened was quite simple: I moved to Memphis. I finally had the opportunity to get out of the Northeast. I wanted to leave the Northeast forever. I never quite felt like I was going to stay there, but circumstances in life kept me there. Then, I had the opportunity to move, and I knew I wanted to come south somewhere. I wound up in Memphis because I had heard that a lot of artists were moving to Memphis from other parts of the country. I heard that a lot of artists from different genres were moving to Memphis and not just artists making Memphis music or American blues or soul music, but all different genres. And I looked at it, I said, "You know what? Memphis, I like it."

So I came here, and COVID was still kind of a thing. It was 2021, so venues weren't really open. And I had to do a few concerts from my house, things that would be broadcast up in New York. So, I used Memphis musicians. And I wanted to make an album. I talked to somebody down here who was producing, and they said, "Well, we just did a Christmas show in your house. Why don't we do the Christmas album?"

We had been using Memphis sounds and different things. We used rockabilly, American country music, blues music, a little bit of blues, a little bit of soul, a little bit of swing.

We took mostly Sicilian traditions and added a little bit of Americana, and I felt it was going to be a good way to start off here in Memphis. It's a good way to show the movement of music, how music comes from one culture to another, and how music transfers with the immigrants. 

It's like, I'm Italian-American coming to Memphis. How does the music change now with me? So that's kind of where that developed.

It was almost organic, letting the musicians here contribute their ideas and sounds. In fact, most of the musicians, except for one on the album, are Italian-American. I didn't plan it that way. It just happened. 

The fiddle player, Alice Hasen, who is not Italian-American, shows up, and she says, "I was trying to listen to different kinds of Sicilian music and Southern Italian music so I could get an idea of what to play."

 

We're like, "No, no, no. We want to hear your style. We want you to play. You got the arrangements, but we want to see what you're going to add to it."

So that's kind of how we came up with the Sicilian folk. It's not rockabilly; it's folk music but a little bit of everything. My first album here was just my homage to Memphis. So that's where that came from. I guess you could say it was pretty much just the collision of these traditions with Memphis sound. 

 

Let's talk about those folk traditions from Sicily.

You start listening to songs in their most basic form, which we have, let's say, the most basic arrangements that we have documented or the oldest unadulterated field recordings. When I say unadulterated, I mean the field recordings that are the oldest we have and the field recordings that are the most untouched by pop music or anything like that. You can hear the influences. You can hear the melodies, and you can hear the progressions, even the note progressions of things that are Greek, Arabic, or Spanish. For example, you can hear certain things that sound like Spanish. So, all the music reflects the different cultures that occupied Sicily. 

I'll give you an idea. There's a song attributed to the fishermen who fish coral. It's a jumble—like a new language made up of Neapolitan and Sicilian lyrics. When the fishermen discovered these coral beds in Sicily, they brought the coral fishermen down from Naples because they had the skill. They taught the Sicilian fishermen how to fish this coral and worked side by side. They came up with their own language. 

So, in this song, you have a mixture of the two languages, the Neapolitan and the Sicilian, and some of the chants you hear. People will say, "That sounds very Middle Eastern."

Even some of the instruments that we play, some of the old forms of instruments that are very basic with minimal strings, are very Middle Eastern. They all filtered in through the great migrations. And if we get really into the diasporas and how they float about, you can start seeing some traditions. You can start seeing similarities to India when the Roma people came through from India. 

Music is a historical document because you can hear that in the melodies, chord progressions, structures, and song structures. You can hear that and say, "Oh yeah, this is very much like Spanish," or "This is very much Middle Eastern." We share some rhythms with North Africa, too. That kind of stuff. It's just a blueprint—a blueprint for history. 

 

You spoke about fishing. Tell us about the songs of the tuna fishermen.

I've recorded a version of one of the cialome they would sing for the matanza. Those are really fascinating songs. They try to trace a lot of the words like cialome.

 

They say, "Well, it could possibly be Arab." But they think it even predates the Arab invasion. That is a tradition that's really buried in antiquity. They can't pinpoint where that exactly started. That's how ancient that tradition is. And it's a beautiful tradition because it's much deeper than just the hunt of the tuna. It was very much something that was obviously connected to the cycle of the seasons because it was the fish's mating season when they were coming through, and humans were attuned to this. And it wasn't just that they killed the fish; these chants they used all had a purpose.

Some were used to pull up the nets, and some were used to pull the boats out of the water.

 

The one I sing is very fun. They talk about a young girl, and it's an homage to that beautiful young girl. But in a lot of the fishing chants, they say things like, "God bless the earth and sky. God bless the sea. God bless the tuna that's giving its life for us."

There's such a visceral connection and a very close connection between humanity and the animal kingdom in this. And there's this show of reverence. A bounty that year meant they would survive, and they were grateful that God had given them this bounty.

They were also grateful to the tuna who sacrificed their lives. And it's actually a very brutal tradition. But life was very brutal. We forget that. 

We look at the matanza and say, "Oh, it was so horrible, these men clubbing these fish to death and butchering these fish." But that was probably the least brutal thing that was happening to those people in their lifetime at that time. 

Out of that tradition for work came these beautiful songs because they needed a rhythm. These men, groups of men (dozens and dozens of men) had to work together. So, the best way to work in unison is to create a melody that everybody can maintain. So there's a lot of that in this tradition of music where these beautiful, beautiful traditions have evolved out of necessity.

So, the necessity for survival, the necessity to work together, and the necessity for recognizing your blessings all came together and created these beautiful songs. We have these songs not only because they were recorded in the 1950s when Alan Lomax went through Sicily and recorded but also because the tuna matanza ended around the 1980s, so we still had people who were singing. 

 

There's still a lot of mystery involved in that. But I don't think they could have that tradition without music because of the necessity, again, of how these men had to work together.

 

It creates community. And that's something that I try to always mention in my shows, too, that this music comes from the traditional community. It was a time when everybody sang. We all made music together for a lot of reasons. But it comes from a very communal place. And I think that's one of the reasons why it's so well received: it is something that we all share, and it's something that we can all share, and it's meant to be shared and enjoyed together.

 

What do you hope your audiences and students take away from their experience?

I just want them to have a wonderful connection with Sicily and a discovery of Sicily. I would divide the audience into people who have a connection and have some roots in Sicily and those who don't. They have similar experiences, but not necessarily always the same. For some people in the audience, this is the first time they've ever heard Sicilian music. So, I want them to understand that there is a huge body of music. There's a huge patrimonial tradition that is just waiting to be explored and understood. And I want them to feel like they're part of it. That's the most important thing. 

When they have roots in Sicily, I want the same for them. But I also want them to understand that this is your heritage and tradition and belongs to you. It is part of you, and it will always be part of you, and it's a really good thing to have as a part of you. It's something that is solid, lasting, and good. There's nothing negative about it. 

We might not have the same heritage, but we all have the same human emotions and can relate to that. I've had people come up to me after the show and say, "I don't know any Sicilian. I don't know what the heck you're saying when you're singing, but I felt everything."

If I can give people that feeling of belonging, that feeling of being understood and heard, then I think I've succeeded. 

I have always felt that I wanted this for Sicily as well. I want Sicily to be understood. I want people to understand that, yes, Sicily is beautiful. Yes, the food is fantastic. But Sicily is so much deeper than that. She's been around a long time, and she's not going away. And she's got a lot to offer. There are so many aspects of Sicily that are so rich, and we can look at that.

 

 

 

 

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My grandparents came to the U.S. from the fishing village of Porticello, which is currently hosting festivities revolving around the legend of the Madonna del Lume, patroness and protector of the sea. The centuries-old celebration culminates in a grand procession of a legendary painting of the Madonna from Chiesa Di Maria Santissima Del Lume through the streets before it is loaded onto a fishing boat and paraded on the sea to a sacred shrine.  

While my grandparents settled in Milwaukee, a contingent of Porticello immigrants settled in California—mainly in San Francisco and San Diego, which have continued the tradition of Festa della Madonna del Lume and are each hosting events this weekend. 

I recently featured San Francisco's celebration. To learn more about San Diego's Festa, which takes place on Sunday, October 6, I reached out to Giuseppe Sanfilippo, a first-generation Italian-American and currently the President of the Madonna del Lume Society of Our Lady of the Rosary Parish in San Diego's Little Italy. 

Giuseppe's parents were born in Sicily and came to the U.S. from Porticello. We discussed how San Diego's Madonna del Lume Society started and impacted his personal life and connection to his Sicilian heritage. 

 

 

Tell us how San Diego's Madonna del Lume Society started.

The Madonna del Lume Society in San Diego was established in October 1937 by the families of Sicilian fishermen who originate from the fishing village of Porticello, Sicily. The Feast of the Madonna del Lume shares quite visibly with our community a tradition and a profound story of faith and hope. It is a story of the powerful intercession of the Madonna on behalf of a group of Sicilian fishermen who were tormented and cast off course by torrential storms at sea and faced the tragedy of perishing at sea. 

These seafaring men, although experienced at sea, were frightened, unsure, and desperate for guidance and safety to return to shore and embrace their families and community once more. It was in these moments of grave darkness and fear that God answered the faithful prayers of these fishermen, who had humbled themselves in complete trust and devotion to God. God answered their prayers with a glowing light illuminating the dark sky above.

As the wise men once followed the guiding star over Bethlehem to visit our newborn savior over 2,000 years ago, the Sicilian fishermen gratefully recognized and received God's blessing and answer to their prayers. They faithfully followed the glowing light shown above to guide them safely home again. 

Upon returning safely home, the fishermen continued to follow the mysterious guiding light above to a grotto near Porticello. Exploring the sea cave, they found a slab of marble bearing the Madonna's image. They carried it into town, but twice, it mysteriously returned to the grotto. The community decided to leave the image of the Madonna at the grotto and build a church on the spot to protect it. It is fervently believed in Sicily that the lives of hundreds of fishermen have been saved by the intervention of our Blessed Maria Santissima del Lume, Our Most Holy Mother of Light, the guardian and patroness of fishermen.

 

To this day, we continue to celebrate and honor the Madonna del Lume for her guidance and intercession in guiding fishermen safely home and into Christ's light. This story is for fishermen, but it is truly a story for all of us, wherever we are on our journey in life. It is a story of a return home, and it is also a story of a return to faith, a return to God. 

How many times in our lives, especially in these current times, have we been lost, confused, uncertain, or fearful? "Lost at sea," so to speak. Whether we are fishermen at sea, laborers on land, or workers at home, this story gives each of us hope that there is always a light, no matter how dark, and there is always faith, no matter how hopeless our situation is. This remembrance of the Madonna del Lume shows us how powerful Our Most Holy Mother's intercession is on our behalf as Christ's ambassador of light to each of us.

 

When some of the original fishermen began immigrating to the United States, they brought their traditions with them. They formed Madonna del Lume societies in Boston, Milwaukee, San Francisco, and San Diego. The Madonna del Lume Society of San Diego was first stationed at St. Joseph Cathedral on Third Avenue before moving to Our Lady of the Rosary in 1938. Today, the Society has reached over 250 members and continues to grow and preserve the traditions of those first fishermen.

 

Each October, over the last 87 years, after a solemn High Mass, a faithfully devoted group of men and women, old and young alike, and a young queen representing the Society, walk in a procession with the Vara of the Madonna del Lume from the OLR Church to the Embarcadero. There, the clergy sprinkles holy water on the boats, blessing all of the fishermen and praying for their protection from harm. He also asks for abbondanza in the catch. For the last 20-plus years, we have also had fireworks, a tradition carried from Porticello to celebrate the Madonna.

 

Today, in Porticello, Sicily, the Festa della Madonna del Lume is also still thriving. The Festa spans the full first week of October each year, and the entire municipality participates in the procession of La Madonna with fireworks and veneration of La Madonna at the original church of Madonna del Lume.

Traditionally, on the Monday of the feast, the sacred painting of the Madonna is taken down from the altar of the village church and processed throughout the town and its port. Devotees pack the sanctuary, hoping for an opportunity to touch and rub the painting on its way to the street to possess its healing and protective powers. It's a moving moment to experience.

 

This beautiful religious and cultural celebration has been passed on to many of our members through their families' Sicilian Catholic heritage and many years of community collaboration to keep this special tradition alive and vibrant in San Diego. Many members have learned from a young age about the purity, grace, and strength of our Most Holy Mother as our protective, loving, and most powerful ambassador of Christ in the midst of a challenging and often chaotic world. 

 

How does the Society engage with the broader community in San Diego?

We are one of several Marion Societies of Our Lady of the Rosary. We have joined together as one during the OLR Festa and have one procession. We are also active in the Italian American community and events that occur throughout the year. 

 

How has being part of the Madonna del Lume Society impacted your personal life and connection to your heritage?

I have a strong connection to the Madonna del Lume, and it has inspired me to be a true Catholic. I believe in the Catholic Faith and our Lord Jesus Christ, praying through the intercession of our Blessed Mother. 

 

What do you hope participants take away from Festa della Madonna del Lume?

Our Blessed Mother is the Light of the World who prays for us and leads us closer to Christ so that our children and youth find their way in life. This leads us all to God's grace and eternal life.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

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There are many Italian study-abroad programs. These programs, primarily set on the mainland, offer students an opportunity to immerse themselves in the nation's rich culture. 

A few institutions, including New Jersey's Montclair State University, offer a study-abroad program in Sicily. Montclair's program has introduced both high school and college students to a place uniquely shaped by numerous rulers and wayfarers who left their mark on its food, customs, and architecture.

I recently met with Montclair Department of History Professor Dawn Marie Hayes to discuss Study Abroad in Sicily, Italy.

Dr. Hayes, whose family is from Palermo, also leads The Norman Sicily Project, which uses print, photographic, web, and geolocation technologies to document Sicily's cultural heritage during the 11th and 12th centuries, a time of enormous transformation for the island. 

We discussed her interest in Sicily, how Montclair's Sicily study-abroad program got started, the impact of The Norman Sicily Project, and what she hopes people will take away from her work. 

 

 

Tell us about your interest in Sicily. 

I'm Sicilian American. I'm actually a dual U.S. Italian citizen. I was raised in a Sicilian-American house but wasn't always interested in my Sicilian roots. And it took me quite some time to get around to actually being interested in them. I always joke that my high school offered three languages, and I took French and Spanish. I was not going to take Italian, which I didn't want. But back in 2004, I received an NEH award, and I was studying at the University of Cambridge that summer. My husband, a software engineer, worked with a colleague, and we became very friendly with his family. They had just bought property in Sicily in a small town called Campofelice di Roccella. He said, before you go home back to the States, come to Sicily; we'd love to show you around.

So we went, and my heart's been there ever since. I get tears in my eyes just thinking about it. It's an extraordinary place. 

 

Where did the idea for the Study Abroad in Sicily program originate?

I got my Ph.D. in '98 and was a specialist in English and French, especially French history. When I went to Sicily, I was fascinated to see these medieval monuments, and after 12 years of college, I learned nothing about them. So, as a scholar, I started to become very interested in learning more about Sicily's medieval past.

At that time, compared to Sicily and Southern Italy, a zillion people were working on medieval England and medieval France. And so I decided to change my field of research very slowly, which meant learning Italian, especially the ability to read it, starting to make contacts, and getting a sense of the period's historiography. And that took some time, especially since I was teaching full-time by that point. So, I wasn't just a student anymore.

 

As I was doing that, I also started to think about the vast number of Italian-Americans in this country. I was exploring where U.S. colleges and universities had a presence in Italy. And, of course, there are a zillion schools that have campuses in Rome, or they have programs in Florence or Venice, but as you go south of Rome, they become fewer and fewer. And in Sicily, there were just about none.

So I went to Montclair's administration - I guess it was in the fall of 2004 when I came back - and I pitched this idea: "We'll be distinctive, having one of the few American programs in Southern Italy."

We had just received a significant amount of money at the university from an Italian-American gentleman, Joseph Coccia, who has funded an institute at Montclair.

Another Italian-American family, the Calis, has been incredibly supportive of MSU for many years. In fact, we now have a music school named after John Cali, one of the university's benefactors. 

John's brother, Angelo, was very proud to be Sicilian. And when he heard through the grapevine that I was starting this program, he wanted to come to campus and offer financial support. How often do you find a benefactor wanting to come to you? He did. And I was so grateful for that.

Angelo gave the program $15,000 that year. He advised that the first 15 kids to sign up each receive a thousand dollars to offset their program costs. And that's what we did. 

In 2006, the program's first year, I took 15 students, and it was fabulous. All sorts of things happened. They fell in love with the place. I fell in love with watching them fall in love. We were there for about three to four weeks and they really enjoyed it. 

We went on a couple of field trips. We went to Agrigento and Piazza Armerina because I wanted them to see the Greek and Roman remains in Sicily. We went to Palermo, and I think we went to Monreale as well, but our base was always Taormina. I've been working with the same language school, Babilonia, in Taormina for 20 years now.

 

I ran the program for a couple more years and then took some years off. But I recently started it up again, and we ran it last year, and we ran it this year. It's been a joy. 

 

You also ran a high school program. Tell us about that experience.

This summer's program was fantastic. I developed it last academic year and ran it this past summer with Dominique Houze, our Senior Director for Strategy and Program Development (Summer and Winter) in Academic Affairs. Many of the students actually had tears in their eyes the night before they left. They didn't want to leave. It was nine days. They took one course and got three college credits for a course on Italian history, language, and culture.

Before they began the program, I assigned them a book to read: Sicily: A Short History, from the Greeks to Cosa Nostra. So they came to Sicily with some background. They did some cooking. They did some Italian language learning, too. 

 

They landed in Palermo on a Saturday, and we stayed overnight. Then, we did a walking tour of the Centro Storico before going to Monreale. By Sunday afternoon, we got back in our van and went to Taormina. 

The night we were in Palermo, we went to a local restaurant, which was wonderful. They did karaoke. They had the traditional Sicilian samplers, and those who wanted to sing could sing.

The next morning, we went to some of the UNESCO heritage sites in Palermo, Monreale, and Taormina. And so the round-trip airfare, the hotel in Palermo, the guided tours in Palermo, the trip to Taormina, and then the hotels in Taormina, all food, a boat excursion off Taormina's coast, and then the field trips to Piazza Armerina, Agrigento, Syracuse, and Mount Etna, which was very active this summer, and three college credits—all of that we did for $5,650. In some schools, you would pay $5,650 just for three college credits. So I was really proud of that, and it was a success.

Will we be doing it in 2025? No. The university wants to review a few administrative matters first. Unique programs like this require lots of planning and fine-tuning. So, we are on an administrative pause for summer 2025. But I am hopeful that as of summer 2026, the high school program will begin to run regularly. I will, though, be offering the college program in 2025.

 

How is the college program different?

The college program is run a bit differently (two courses instead of one). But one of the courses, HIST 299, "History Study Abroad," is similar to the high school program. One significant difference between them, however, is that this is team-taught, and my colleague, Professor Esperanza Brizuela-Garcia, spends some time on the current migration crisis in the Mediterranean, looking at the testimonies of migrants who have arrived on Sicily's shores. For this, they write essays as well as do some data visualization based on the information in the migrant histories they are assigned.

 

They also do some travel journaling for me about how Sicilians have preserved and asserted their cultural identity historically, as well as about a particular experience they've had personally that they believe captures/reflects Sicily's history and/or culture. Beyond this, they also spend some time in the classroom learning Italian and, in a typical Sicilian restaurant, learning how to make traditional foods.

Why did you choose Sicily for these trips?

There's still not a great presence in Sicily of American colleges and universities, though this has begun to change over the past two decades. Yet, at the same time, the influence of Italian-American culture has been so profound in this country. For example, you could argue that The Godfather is, if not the most famous movie produced in the past 50 years, certainly one of the most famous. This movie has been followed by numerous other TV programs and films focusing on Italian-Americans and their culture.

So, very often, Americans think they understand Southern Italian, including Sicilian culture, well despite what many of them have seen in the media as inaccurate and distorted representations. I want to challenge the perceptions promoted in various media—especially in TV and film. Are there problems in this region? Yes. Is there organized crime? Absolutely, yes. But that's not all that Sicily is—not by far.

Also, being in the Mediterranean lets them relax a little bit in a way that I think they're able to absorb more because it is a slower society than if you are getting on and off subways in northern Europe, for example. I think the environment lends itself to connecting to the culture in profound ways. 

The last thing I'll say is that, compared to many other places in Europe, there hasn't been much work done on Sicily (though this, too, has begun to change over the past two decades). So, even as a scholar, it's important to me because it needs attention. It absolutely needs attention, and it needs English language scholars speaking with the natives there, which hasn't happened often.

 

You also run the Norman Sicily Project. Tell us about that.

Back in 2019, I got a $50,000 NEH grant to map Sicily's medieval monuments. What had happened, in a nutshell, is that as I was going to see friends in Sicily and leading these programs, I would stay on. I was able to visit these medieval monuments that most people never get to see because you have to find the person with the key, show up on the right day, etc. For years, I have been accumulating these images. I started to say to my husband, who is a software engineer, "We really need to make these available to the public. I feel guilty sitting on them."

 

In 2015, we started a project called The Norman Sicily Project. I got 50 grand, and we did a prototype. This particular NEH competition is very competitive; they have an 18% funding rate, and of that 18%, most of the projects are American-focused, which makes sense. But we did a good job with that money - credit goes to the fantastic team I worked with from 2019-2021 - and this April, I was able to win a Level II award of $350,000 to take the prototype to full implementation. 

So, I have been traveling around forgotten parts of Sicily for many years, and my cousins in Palermo always say, I know Sicily better than they do because I go to these places where there's no one but where there are these abandoned monuments. But that's what I do. And so I'll be doing that with a scholar and two graduate students from the University of the West Indies at Cave Hill in Barbados for the next three summers, too. 

The project is an attempt to document medieval Sicily by geolocating its buildings and creating a genealogy of its people, having those two databases speak to each other. Because of the massive work by one scholar in the thirties, we were able to create the monastic database fairly easily. That was the focus of the prototype. Since then, I've begun to develop a database for the fortifications. Now, we are in the process of surfacing the churches, which is a massive task.

 

I work with my husband, Joseph Hayes, on this. He's the chief technical architect. But then I also have two Sicilians working on the project. One in a technological capacity, another programmer, Salvatore Buffa, who has his degree from the University of Palermo, and Alessandra Faranda, also an alumna of the University of Palermo and now a graduate student at Bocconi University, who does a lot of the translations and some of the outreach work. We also have Pratt Institute working with us, which has done some of the work on the project for free in the past through their UX/UI design program for their master's students. They've given us a lot of really good feedback over the past couple of years, and now we have money to pay for people to actually implement that. So Pratt is on the grant as well.

Pratt's Dr. Craig MacDonald will be helping us identify grad students for the next three years. We also have Dr. Casey Allen from the University of the West Indies at Cave Hill, Barbados, who is a cultural stone specialist. And he and his students will be reading the stones of subsets of the buildings. 

 

We've divided Sicily into thirds: the Val Demone, the Val di Noto, and the Val di Mazara. For the next three years, we'll focus on a subset of buildings in each of these regions, with each summer dedicated to one region. We will study the remains with LiDAR technology and make reports available to the Soprintendenze in case they want to act on them. 

We also have a mathematician on the grant, a colleague at Montclair, Dr. Deepak Bal. He is applying network analysis and different analytics using graphs to try to discern patterns between different places and people and places the human mind would not automatically pick up on. So, he'll be applying them to see if there are relationships that have escaped us. 

 

The project is pretty ambitious. As we go into the field, very often, we'll start up conversations with locals, and they have a wealth of knowledge. One of the other things we're doing with this project is capturing that local memory. When it comes up in the database, I'm indicating what's been shared and whether it's corroborated by a published source. Scholars could look at this and say, "Oh, look. Someone from the area has suggested that there are medieval remains—human or otherwise—buried in this location even though this information isn't in the written record." And they could look into it further. So it's there, and it allows Sicilians to contribute to and participate in the reconstruction of their own history. 

 

Down the line, we're hoping to employ machine learning, maybe scanning the charters and attaching them to the people in places. The people graph right now is a bunch of spaghetti and meatballs. It's very hard to read. This is one of the things that we're working on with Pratt. 

As of now, I've created records for about 1,350 people who lived in this Norman Society. This 150-year period was arguably Sicily at its finest hour. It was ruled by people who were ruling Sicily for Sicily's own sake, and that gives me a special feeling for the Normans. They built up this kingdom, which was just extraordinary, and so we're trying to reconstruct that special moment in this island's fascinating and very long history through interdisciplinarity supported by the best tools technology offers at this time. 

It's an interesting project because it is so interdisciplinary. For example, the Italian government does very good work with seismic data, which we've been recording, too, as we attempt to signal the threats to conserving—and preserving—this built culture.

With Dr. Casey Allen, we will also examine, based on our observations, whether wildfires are threatening what remains. Is it animals? Is it human beings? Is it Mount Etna? These are the kinds of things that we are doing. So, it's a marriage of the humanities and the sciences. 

 

Do you integrate certain components of the project into the study abroad program?

Yes, I do try to integrate these. Ultimately, what would be really wonderful is to have Sicilian students work on this as well and teach them. One of the really cool things that Dr. Allen has done is help develop an assessment tool, the Cultural Stone Stability Index, that can be used pretty easily. You don't need a Ph.D. in earth science to evaluate monuments or sections of monuments. This opens itself up to what my science colleagues call "citizen science." And Casey Allen has been part of a team that has done this remarkably well in Jordan. 

What's important about this approach is that you can very easily go into economically underprivileged places like Jordan or even Sicily. You don't need a gazillion dollars, and you don't need PhDs to be around all the time, which gets costly, but you can train locals to do this stuff.

Sicily has a wealth of locals who just really have an attachment to the place they live. I think it's one of the most endearing things about that society. They love their towns, and so this is something that we can teach them as well. 

 

What do you hope people will take away from your work?

There are all sorts of challenges in higher ed right now. In a world where, for various reasons, we can struggle to reach our students, I find that this is a way I can have a significant impact on their young lives, and it reinforces in me those feelings that I have had since the time I decided to get a Ph.D. and become a professor. 

I really leave there with satisfaction because my hope for my students is that they come to appreciate the South, realize that there's incredible beauty there, and that they also leave with an understanding that the world is a big place and that I want them to travel again. I want them to leave with a sense of wonder and an interest in learning about other places, maybe more deeply about Sicily and Southern Italy, but also about other places, too. Ultimately, I want them to go on to share this experience and these desires with their own families as they move forward with their lives.

An interesting aside. I had an MSU student couple who got married as a result of this program. They met in Sicily, fell in love, and got married a few years later. These are the kinds of life-changing experiences that I want my students to leave Sicily with.

 

>>Learn more about Dr. Hayes's and her work here.<<

 

 

 

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Tomatoes have become almost synonymous with Italy, but they had a long, incredible journey before they reached European plates. 

It's a topic that fascinated writer Clarissa Hyman, whose book Tomatoes: A Global History charts the origins of this vibrant and juicy fruit while covering topics such as tomato varieties, breeding and genetics, nutrition, and tomatoes in art. It also includes tomato recipes.

 

Clarissa, who previously published Cucina Siciliana, a "cook's tour" of Italy's largest island, got her start as a TV producer, working on factual programs, documentaries, educational programs, and adult education. 

She isn't Sicilian (or Italian, for that matter), but she's earned a reputation and awards for her skills in marrying food writing with lessons in history. At the heart of all of her works is a sense of curiosity and wonder: Just how did these foods make their way to global cuisine?

 

I recently had the chance to chat with Clarissa about tomatoes. We discussed the tomato's origins, the ways it spread, how the perception of the tomato has changed, and the fruit's influence on food and culture. 

 

 

Tell us how the tomato found its way to Europe.

I became fascinated by the Columbus Exchange, of which tomatoes were a part. I was also fascinated by what happened even earlier: how tomato seeds traveled from mostly Peru and the northern part of South America up towards Mexico. How did they get there? 

Once they got to Mexico, they found a home, a climate that really encouraged their growth and proliferation. Clearly, the Aztecs didn't seem concerned about whether or not they were going to be poisonous or inedible in some way, and they took to them very readily.

Franciscan Friar Bernardino de Sahagún wrote in a journal about all the different tomatoes he came across in Mexico. He went with the conquistadors as a missionary and wrote about hundreds of different sorts of tomatoes in different colors, sizes, shapes, and attributes. 

When I read what he wrote, I thought, "This is so sophisticated, this understanding of the tomato's potential and how diverse and varied it could be."

This is not something we think about in terms of the 16th century. We're very arrogant in our day and age about how advanced we are. But in fact, there's very little that's not been done before. So that very much engaged me. 

How the tomato actually got to Europe, to Spain, again, is another story in itself. How did the sailors and the ships actually transport these tomatoes? I mean, they were out to sea for such a long time, and tomatoes weren't going to last. So, did they dry them? Did they preserve them? Did they just take the seeds? 

I suppose anything that came from the Americas to Spain and Portugal was going to be precious in some way. It was going to be valuable; even if they didn't know just what that value was, you couldn't just throw it overboard. 

History is never simple. It never works on one track, or often, tracks run in parallel. 

Some explorers gave the royal families of Spain just about everything that they found. It was part of their job to bring everything over. Some people in the aristocracy were very interested in botanical things, cultivation, and horticulture, and they had beautiful gardens and skillful gardeners who were ready to experiment with plant things and see what happened. 

Once tomatoes started to grow, there were others who wouldn't eat them or weren't interested. But there were also some very poor people who were grateful to eat anything, even if it was going to be a little bit dodgy. They were prepared to give it a go if it was cheap and easy and grew well.

So, there were different roots for tomatoes becoming increasingly available in the marketplace in Spain. That's where it all started in terms of European consumption of tomatoes.

One of the main drivers of tomatoes being incorporated into European gastronomy and culinary culture was the monasteries and the friars and the priests, who had an amazing culinary dimension to their lives. A number of priests and monks wrote cookery books or recorded what they did in the kitchens of the monasteries. Because a lot of monks traveled around visiting different outposts of their particular order, they took this knowledge with them.

One of the main ways that tomatoes started to spread around the Mediterranean basin was through trade, but there were certainly other roots in religion. The Jewish communities took this vegetable knowledge with them, even when other people were still reluctant. 

 

Tell us about that reluctance.

It was very pervasive and lasted a long time. A lot of people thought, "Well, we know it's part of the nightshade family, so maybe it could be poisonous."

Early tomatoes were probably rather acidic and didn't really have the sweetness that was bred into them eventually. So they didn't like it. People didn't know what to do with it. I think a fear of poisoning really prevented its rapid adoption.

But bit by bit, people became a bit more adventurous. It's so interesting how gardeners have been able to improve plants and turn them into something a bit more palatable, as well as cross-breed and encourage certain characteristics. 

There are always a few brave souls somewhere who are going to try something new and radical and say, "Hey, look, I'm still standing. I ate a tomato."

 

How did tomatoes return to the Americas?

The technological advance of canning again gave a huge impetus to how tomatoes could then spread back to the Americas in the form of tin tomatoes. And it was, again, the whole story of Italian tomatoes and Italian-American communities, which is a big story on its own because the canning came from a time when a lot of Italians emigrated to America at the end of the 19th century. There were a lot of Italian producers and merchants in Italy who saw that they could supply the Italian immigrants, particularly on the East Coast, with some of the foods that they remembered from their homelands, and tomatoes came full circle.

However, there was also another route for tomatoes to become so popular in North America: people planted tomatoes or took tomato plants from Central America and Mexico up to California and Louisiana, often through the missions in California or through the French influence in Louisiana.

Tomatoes were found to flourish in those more northern regions. And so that was another route, helped by the development of the railways, which could transport fresh tomatoes.

 

How have tomatoes influenced global cuisine?

You certainly can't think of pasta without tomato sauce or a pizza without tomato sauce in some way. 

The influence of tomatoes on global cuisine is incalculable. Where would we be without tomatoes? I can't think of a cuisine or a culture that doesn't use tomatoes in some important way now, which is extraordinary when you think the world ate perfectly well before the Columbus Exchange took place. And certainly in Europe, North America, and Asia, I mean, there was a very good diet. There's a very good culinary culture in virtually every country in the world without a tomato. So it's really quite extraordinary, the power that the tomato has had to transform virtually all our lives. And I think it's because it's something that can be consumed in so many different forms, and it's worked its way into lots of different aspects of our life for good or bad. 

You can think of some hideous tomato things: tomato-flavored crisps and even tomato ice cream. But overall, tomatoes have been a force for good when it comes to the food on our plates.

I don't mean to say every dish we eat has a tomato in it or is tomato-connected. Of course not. But it's such an integral part of our lives now. It's very hard to imagine it not being there. Certainly, when it comes to Italian food, it's a marriage that has lasted for a very long time in terms of pasta and pizza.

 

What are some varieties unique to Sicily?

There is a variety called Siccagno that grows in western Sicily that isn't watered. Any moisture comes from rain. They are the most amazing-tasting tomatoes. Then, there is a place in eastern Sicily where a very tiny tomato called Pachino is grown virtually on the beach in very sandy soil. They say they get their flavor from the sea, somehow from the aromas of the saltwater. The winds and the waves somehow infuse these tomatoes, and they're brilliant.

The Sicilians really appreciate different varieties and sizes and understand their uses. Some tomatoes are just for use in a sugo, and some tomatoes can be eaten in a salad with a little bit of oil.

 
Pachino tomatoes photo by Salmassara

You've mentioned that one shouldn't refrigerate tomatoes.

I met an Italian tomato grower, and he said to me, "You English are terrible. I really can't believe it. You murder your tomatoes."

I said, "What do you mean by murder? How do you murder a tomato?"

He said, "You always put them in the fridge. That's the worst thing you can do with a tomato."

He said the cold destroys all the flavor and aroma. He said he'd never forget going to an English home. He went into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator door, and saw half a tomato wrapped in cling film. And he said his heart nearly stopped. 

He said that in Italy, you buy a tomato and eat it. You don't leave it in the fridge for a week until you're ready to eat the rest of it.

 

So I tell everyone that if they've got tomatoes in the fridge, take them out.  

 

What do you hope people take away from your research?

It's such a fascinating story and one that is so largely unknown. It's actually a little miracle, a little red round miracle, and we should respect it a lot more than we do. 

 

>>Get Tomatoes: A Global History here!<<

 

 

 
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The biggest event of the year in Porticello, Sicily, revolves around the legend of the Madonna del Lume, patroness of the seaside village and protector of the sea. Since the 18th century, the whole town has gathered for a traditional celebration, which includes a procession of a revered painting of Mary from Chiesa Di Maria Santissima Del Lume through the town before it is loaded onto a fishing boat and paraded on the sea with hundreds of other fishing boats to its sacred shrine. It's the main event of Festa della Madonna del Lume, which begins nine days before the first Sunday in October and features fireworks, food, and festivities. 

For 89 years, San Francisco has held its own two-day Festa della Madonna del Lume, an event started by immigrant women from Porticello, Sicily.

  
Saturday, October 5, includes a Mass at the Fishermen's and Seamen's Memorial Chapel, followed by a memorial flower ceremony at the sea to honor those lost or perished at sea. Sunday, October 6, includes Mass at Saint Peter and Paul Church, a procession from North Beach to Fisherman's Wharf, a ritual blessing of the fishing fleet, and other festivities.

 

Organized by La Società di Maria Santissima del Lume, founded by immigrant Sicilian women in 1935, the Festa is a time for families and friends to come together in memorial, prayer, thanks, and celebration.

I recently caught up with Christina Balistreri, a member of the Society's celebration committee. She and fellow committee members spend countless hours all year planning and preparing for the big event, which takes place the first weekend in October of each year. We chatted about the origins of San Francisco's Madonna del Lume Society and the differences and similarities between Porticello's Festa and San Francisco's. She also shared her hopes for attendees.

 

 

Tell us about your connection to Sicily.

My great-grandparents came to San Francisco from Sicily around 1890. My great-grandmother was an Alitio from Porticello, and my great-grandfather was a Balistreri from Sant'Elia, just down the road from Porticello. Both families carried the traditional profession of pescatore (fishermen) to America, where many settled in San Francisco's Wharf, known then as "Meiggs Wharf," to become fishermen. This profession was passed down through many generations of the Sicilian families that came to San Francisco. During this time, many Sicilian fishing families were concentrated in this area.

 

My nonno (grandfather) was a fisherman here for 59 years. His boat was parked in front of Scomas, and as a child, I would regularly go with my father as he worked on it. I have many great memories of playing on the piers and jumping on and off the different Monterey boats. Sadly, my Great-grandfather Salvatore Balistreri lost his life here on the San Francisco Bay while fishing.

 

Fishing is all our family has ever known. The Sicilian community was a tight-knit community where everyone was famiglia. It is funny because we still connect with each other at many of our events and figure out how we are related. Most of us are convinced we are related in some way or another. 

 

My great-grandmother and her sisters were very involved in the Madonna del Lume Society, helping keep the tradition alive and preserving the ancient tradition the Sicilian community brought when many emigrated here in the late 1800s and early 1900s. The tradition and participation in the Madonna Del Lume have also been passed down for many generations for many of the current committee members. Many of the current celebration committee members come from very instrumental families in the Sicilian community at the Wharf, and some are even direct descendants of the original members listed on the bylaws from 1938. 

How did San Francisco's Madonna del Lume Society start?

It was officially on the books in 1938, but the celebration started in 1935. When they got the organization together, they established the nonprofit religious organization and registered it with the city of San Francisco. The original members were women from Porticello who came here.

 

The instrumental women who established the organization here in San Francisco were Carmela Cresci, Anna Auteri, Margherita Carini, Rosalia Alioto, Teresa Mercurto, Antonia Papia, Maria Crivello, and Paola Sanfilippo. Many of the women's husbands and family members were fishermen here in the Wharf, all from the little town of Porticello. 

 

Today, some of the influential families invested in preserving this tradition include Alioto, Asciutto, Baccari, Balistreri, Battaglia, Cannizzaro, Castagnola, Corona, Cresci, Crivello, D' Amato, Dorio-Wraa, Lavin, Lo Coco, Raineri, Sanfilippo, and Tarantino.

 

This organization is more than just a religious organization; it has a powerful social and cultural aspect that embodies the well-being of all of its members and the Sicilian Community as a whole. 

The first bylaw in the founding documents states, "To promote and encourage a spirit of religion, sociability, and friendship among its members; to celebrate once a year a special feast in honor of the Madonna Del Lume; to gather together for that purpose; to manage and conduct entertainments, picnics, and social gatherings of its members; and to advance their mental, moral, and religious welfare." 

When the Sicilians arrived in San Francisco, there was a lot of strife in Fisherman's Wharf. Many did not speak English, which was hard. It was a really hard life for them to make the voyage from the other side of the world and make a new life here while trying their best to hold on to their culture and traditions. I think the Madonna Del Lume was really instrumental in keeping tradition going, encouraging positivity and a sense of community and belonging. 

San Francisco's Festa della Madonna del Lume is patterned after Porticello's. Tell us about that.

In 1777, fishermen were lost at sea, and they prayed to the Madonna, who shone a light down where they needed it to guide them back safely to the shore. So that's kind of part of it. The other piece is the painting. When the fishermen returned, the Madonna painting was found stuck in their fishing nets. There's another legend about a Jesuit priest, Father Giovanni Antonio Genovesi. The Madonna guided him to paint it as she wanted it. 

 

We have a symbolic relic that we call the "Vara." This relic represents the sacred painting of the Madonna and holds a lot of significance. It is carried on the shoulders of the carriers while music is played with drums. The Vara is processed around Porticello, and everyone tries to touch it and prays to the Madonna. It is a very emotional event where people cry out to the Madonna. The chant is "Viva, Madonna Del Lume, Viva!" It is then placed on a fishing boat, which travels to the Madonna Del Lume altar 15 minutes by boat up the coast. The shrine is beautifully situated on the top of Capo Zafferano, overlooking the Tyrrhenian Sea.

 

In Porticello, the celebration lasts for nearly two weeks. There are daily activities, and the celebration ends with an impressive fireworks display at the port of Santa Nicolicchia. Throughout the year, the local fishermen return from fishing and make generous donations to ensure a grand celebration every October. It's for the Madonna so that she may continue to guide and protect them. So, by the time the year passes, they will have the money to put into this big celebration. It is really big, and the whole town attends and participates.

 

Our committee members have talked about going on a voyage to Sicily together. But it would be hard for us all to go to the celebration in Porticello because we need to plan and attend our celebration here. 

 

Describe San Francisco's two-day event.

Saturday, we have a mass at the Fishermen's and Seamen's Memorial Chapel on Fisherman's Wharf. It's a newer chapel built in 1981. All religions are welcome. On the walls are gold plaques bearing the names of the men and women who have dedicated their lives to the sea and the Wharf. You can also find the names of the founders of the Madonna Del Lume. It is a true gem hidden in plain sight.  

We go there, have Mass, pray, and then go on a ferry boat, the Red and White Fleet. We walk over to the Red and White as a group and embark on our journey, where we honor the lives lost at sea. 

Sadly, only a few active Sicilian fishing boats (mostly Monterey Boats) are left on the Wharf. The remaining " Montereys " fleet comes and follows us, which is really fun. The San Francisco Fireboat joins us, too. We go under the Golden Gate Bridge and stop just on the other side. The priest leads us in prayer, and we have a moment of silence while the names of all those who lost their lives at sea are read out loud. We then say, "Viva, Madonna Del Lume, Viva!" and throw wreaths and loose flowers, usually a lot of carnations, into the water while the fireboat sprays water up into the sky as a horn is sounded. This is a very emotional moment for many members and the attendees. 

 

We take a nice long ride back on the Bay to the docks, passing Angel Island and Alcatraz. It is a time for memory and reflection as we pass through the waters where many of our ancestors spent many years. After we return to shore, the day is over, and we go home and rest for the next day. Many committee members have lunch on the Wharf with family and friends at local eateries, and some head to Saints Peter and Paul Church to prepare for the second day of the celebration.  

On Sunday, members, family, and friends meet at Saints Peter and Paul Church in North Beach for Sunday mass. We have a coronation ceremony in which a queen is crowned for the upcoming year. The existing queen passes off the crown, and then the queen, her court, and the family march around the church led by the Carabinieri (The local Italian police squad). We have a chapter here in San Francisco. My dad's cousin is one; they all dress in official uniforms, including hats and flags. They've got their flags and lead the Vara that carries the painting around the church.

 

When Mass is done, everyone exits the church, stands on the steps for a group photo, and heads down to the hall under the church for the spuntino. We have small bites to eat and prepare for the procession down to Fisherman's Wharf. Once we are ready, we line up behind the float, usually parked in front of the church. We process the Vara and special flags along with a marching band. There is also a cable car on wheels for members and attendees who may have difficulty walking the whole way.

We go all the way down to Fisherman's Wharf, back at the pier, where the Fisherman and Seamen's Chapel is located. The priest blesses the fishing boats remaining there. Members usually leave from there or take the cable car back up to North Beach.

 

In the early evening, we come back together and have a big dinner at the Italian Athletic Club. We have raffle prizes and enjoy a meal together, a big part of Sicilian and Italian culture.  

 

What do you eat?

For the spuntino, we usually have a lot of cookies and cold cuts. So, many of our members will bake homemade recipe cookies and bring them, along with cold cuts and cheeses. They can also make little panini (sandwiches) and little salads. I'm going to make a tomato and onion salad this year and some biscotti or almond torrone, a classic Sicilian dessert. 

 

So, for the big Sunday Family dinner, we'll serve a fixed menu of either beef, salmon, or a veggie. Of course, there's always pasta, antipasti, desserts, cookies, and spumoni ice cream. Food is one of the focal points of our culture, so attendees can be sure they will be nice and full once dinner is done. 

I personally have a very strong feeling about keeping this special tradition going and as close to the original customs as possible. It's hard because our Sicilian community is dwindling here in San Francisco. There are not as many Sicilian families as there once were. We welcome anyone from the Italian community, friends, and family who cherish our traditions and culture. Keeping in the realm of tradition and culture, we welcome anybody to be part of our Festa and enjoy our special tradition. Sharing our tradition, culture, and customs is important, and we are so happy to keep this part of our history alive and teach others about it.

 

What do you hope people take away from participating in the Festa?

The sense of community supporting each other and specifically carrying on the Sicilian traditions and culture, particularly the patron saint of the fishermen. For the Madonna, we carry it on and continue to pray to her for her guidance for the people still in the fishing industry, all the families involved over the years, and most importantly, for those who have lost their lives at sea. 

We hope that people will come to be part of it year after year. We are determined to keep this tradition going and foster its growth. We invite everyone to come, enjoy, remember, and celebrate with us. This unique and rich experience and tradition are very special to us, and we want to share them with everyone. "Viva, Madonna Del Lume, Viva!" 

 

More Information

• Volunteer/Donate/Dinner Ads: bit.ly/MDL_DonateVolunteer
• RSVP for Memorial at Sea / Spuntino / Dinner Dance & Raffle 10/5 and 10/6: bit.ly/MDLfamilydinner
• Membership 2025: bit.ly/MDLmembership25
• Facebook: Madonna del Lume San Francisco
• Instagram: @madonna_del_lume_sf
• Mailing list: MDLnewssf@yahoo.com

 

 

 

 

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On our last trip to Sicily, my cousin handed us some oranges to take with us on our bus ride from Porticello to Catania. It wasn't until later, when we peeled them, that we discovered these weren't our typical, orange-fleshed oranges. In fact, they were Taroccos, blood oranges with ruby red flesh hidden beneath an orange-colored peel and a taste reminiscent of raspberries.

 

One of three popular arance rosse, the Sicilian-grown Tarocco is actually Italy's most popular table orange. Sweet, seedless, and easy to peel, it also has the highest vitamin C content of the world's oranges.

 

Citrus fruits, including bitter oranges, were introduced to Sicily as part of the Muslim conquest in the 9th century. However, sweet oranges did not arrive until the late 15th or 16th century when Italian and Portuguese merchants brought their trees into the region.

 

Starting in the 18th century, Sicily became known for its blood oranges, which also include the Moro and the Sanguinello.

 

The vibrant flesh color of these oranges comes from the presence of anthocyanins, pigments found in flowers but less commonly in citrus fruits. It's activated when the fruit is exposed to low temperatures during the night and early morning, and the often tougher skin can take on a darker hue than that of more common oranges. 

Sicily's blood oranges are protected under PGI (Protected Geographical Indication) certification and grow in the provinces of Syracuse, Catania, and Enna. 

Tenuta Serravalle, a company based in Mineo, just over 30 miles southwest of Catania, is a leader among the specialized growers of PGI blood oranges.

The Grimaldi family has run the farm since the 19th century. Today, it's managed by descendant Gerado Diana, who holds a degree in dairy science from Texas A&M University. A proponent of sustainable agriculture in Sicily and active in several industry groups, Gerardo serves as president of the PGI Sicilian Blood Orange Consortium.

 

Gerardo and I recently spoke about his farm, blood oranges, and orange-derived products.

 

 

Tell me about the history of your farm and how it's changed.

They once cultivated rice on our land. This shows how the situation with climate change is very strong. The water was always less and less. Now, our core business is PGI blood oranges production and wheat. We produce wheat that is very resistant to drought and oats. But the main business is oranges and all the products we produce with the oranges, like honey made from the orange flower. My wife is a lawyer, but for the past five years, she's provided hospitality to the people who come and visit the farm. 

We are mainly trying to improve upon what our ancestors did. What is very interesting is how all the people and generations have spent their time here making improvements and developing different farming systems. You really understand what people mean when they say that the land is not yours but is of your son. 

When so many people work so hard to leave you the soil, this makes you understand how you need to behave and respect nature, cultivation, and the effort that goes into agriculture.

 

Tell me about your oranges.

PGI blood oranges grow in a certain area, which is out of 34 small cities in three parts of the region of Sicily: Catania, Siracusa, and a small portion of Enna. We have very different temperature variations in these areas from day to night. So, in February, it can be 20 degrees during the day minus 2 degrees in the early morning. 

 

These three varieties of blood oranges—Moro, Tarocco, and Sanguinello—become red to protect against the cold.

 

Our oranges are PGI (Protected Geographical Indication), which is different from our neighbors because we follow some rules. We need to respect the soil; we need to respect the bees; we need to save water; we need to behave with the people who work with us. So, it's a different way of cultivating. So this is why we always say that PGI products are more guaranteed for the consumer rather than other products.

 

How have you adjusted your practices to deal with Sicily's current drought?

In the last two years, it has been a continuous pain because we didn't have 40 millimeters of rain on the same day, which is needed for the irrigation of the plants. We have implemented new technology, so it's all drip irrigation. We also have a machine that monitors the soil's humidity level.

 

Describe your agricultural practices.

More than 600 families of bees help pollinate our oranges. Then, there is the drip irrigation. All the oranges picked for the market and for the table of the European family are picked by hand. Although we are in 2024, no machine works as well as the human hand.

 

Where are your oranges distributed?

We sell 50% of our PGI oranges in Italy and the rest throughout Europe. 

 

How are your oranges used?

I imagine we have 232 ways of using oranges because there are orange jams, ice creams, and granitas. Some whiskeys are made with oranges. Then there is the special recipe in Sicily, the salad with oranges and onions, which is very good. Some research shows that blood oranges are very good at fighting depression. 

 

What is your favorite way to enjoy oranges?

I'm very simple, so I like to peel my oranges in the morning when I'm on the farm, when it is cold, and when you can smell the smell of nature.

 

Can you describe how you've diversified your product line with honeys and jams? 

My wife [Mariarosa Magnano di San Lio] had the idea. I'm very grateful to her. 

Bees are the best indicator of how you run a farm because if the farm is healthy, the bees are healthy. Honey is very important to us; it is basically a way for us to reach new markets. 

My wife makes the jam we produce from our fruit without sugar; she adds honey, which is much healthier.

We have sold our honey to people as far as the Philippines. It is really nice to think that the honey from a small town in Sicily goes so far. Lots of people call, and they say they immediately need the honey. They say, "I need it now."

This makes you feel that there are people who appreciate the quality and are also willing to wait one week for their product. We don't use Amazon; our honey leaves the farm and directly reaches the house of the person or family that has bought it.

 

You give tours. What can visitors expect to see?

It's an old house on top of a hill. To reach the house, you have more than one kilometer of dirt road, all surrounded by oranges, especially blood oranges. Then, there are some wheat and hay fields, and we have nine donkeys near the house. The oldest of them is more than 30 years old, and we keep them because they help clear brush so we can prevent fire and erosion of the soil. 

 

It's as if time has stopped for the house. Then you see the technology on the oranges, which I think is a good mixture of modern and old, between technology and tradition.

 

What can people take away from their experience at your farm and with your products?

We would like them to understand how important nature and farming are for the whole community. Hopefully, they will understand all the work that goes into growing fruit.

 

 

 

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An essential ingredient in many Sicilian recipes, the humble-looking caper packs a hefty dose of umami in a compact package. Typically found jarred and floating in brine in the U.S., these grayish-green shriveled-up buds are harvested from the Capparis spinosa bush (also called Flinders rose), a perennial plant with fleshy, rounded leaves and white or pinkish-white flowers. Producers also sell caper berries, the plant's large seed pods, and caper leaves. 

To learn more about capers, I caught up with food/wine travel consultant, private chef, and writer Linda Sarris (aka @TheCheekyChef). Linda leads frequent tours to Sicily's island of Pantelleria. There participants get a first-hand look at caper production and even visit a caper museum. Linda also shared her favorite caper recipe: caponata.

 

 

What is your background?

I'm a Greek American who moved from New York City to Sicily. I've been living full-time in Palermo for about eight years.

 

I started a food and wine travel company here because I was working as a private chef. And then, when I moved to Sicily, I had to reinvent myself a little bit. Not so much private cheffing work here, especially for an American, but I've written two travel guidebooks for Moon Guides, which is part of Hachette. And so I write about travel in Sicily and food. I organize some week-long trips and retreats throughout the year, usually in Sicily in the Aeolian Islands in the summertime and Pantelleria, usually in spring and fall. I also do a market tour in Palermo. So, lots of different things, but always food- and wine-travel related.

 

What drew you to Sicily?

I ended up here. I got a scholarship to work in Sicily after attending a cooking school in New York, and then I just fell in love with the place. So, I came here in 2011 and have been studying Sicilian food since then. 

 

Let's talk about capers. What is your interest in the plant?

I like meeting farmers or producers and learning about the products we use in cooking here. As I'm working in tourism, I want to be able to talk about the culinary culture here. I need to know what the items are, how they're made, and how they're grown.

 

I think the plants are incredible, and you see a lot of them in the places where I often travel for work. So, in the Aeolian Islands, Salina is a famous place for its capers, followed by Pantelleria,  the island off the coast of Trapani. So those are the two most famous, although you do see them growing around a lot of the Mediterranean areas.

And then, producer-wise, I've met a lot of people who just cure them at home for their own use. And I've always worked closely with La Nicchia, which is a big producer in Pantelleria. They have always been at the head of developing new and caper-related products. They were probably the first ones ever to sell caper leaves in a jar. They do freeze-dried capers and caper powder. They sell seeds. They're always kind of innovating with new things they can do. 

They opened a caper museum in Pantelleria. When I bring guests there, we visit the museum, do tastings, and learn about the process because capers were such a big business for that island.

And so I've always been excited about the plant and how we use it in cooking. It's always one of the main things people bring back from Sicily because it's such a specialty ingredient, travels well, isn't super expensive, and is better than what they might find at home.

What exactly is a caper?

The part that we eat as the caper is the unopened bud of the flower of the plant. It's a really incredible plant. They are pruned when you're cultivating them, but usually, they grow wild in the cracks of the road and come out of walls.

 

The plants that are actually thriving the most are the ones that are not cultivated and planted by people. It's really like a bush but has these long crawling vines. And the cool thing is that the season is really long, so the more you pick them, the more they'll produce. And you can actually pick the buds that are the capers from April until almost September or October.

 

The plant produces a lot. And so we usually sell here in Sicily, two different sizes, really tiny ones, and kind of a bigger one that's almost ready to open up into the flower. You'll see the whole progression of how it grows just on one vine, which is kind of cool. So you'll see the little buds in the leaves, bigger buds, and flowers. Once the flower opens up, the fruit of the caper grows out of the flower. And in English, we call it a caper berry or, in the Sicilian dialect, cucunci. It looks like an olive on a cherry stem. That's the fruit. And that's where all the seeds are. So what usually happens is birds eat that, travel around, and make new plants with the seed.

If you don't pick the bud, it opens to the flower. If you remove the flower, it goes back to making buds. But if you let the flower open, fruit comes out. It usually depends on what product you want, how quickly you pick it, and what level you let it develop. 

 

How are capers typically prepared?

What we eat is not just straight off the plant. It has to be preserved, and usually, that involves sort of pickling it. So, either in a brine or a saltwater pickle or just packed in sea salt, which is what most people in Sicily do. It's usually just covering them with salt, rotating the batches until they lose some of their bitterness, and removing the liquid that comes out. Eventually, they could be preserved for eating, but you still have to soak them before you eat the ones packed in salt.

 

Most people here preserve and save and eat the buds of the flowers, the caper, and the berry. More recently, some companies have been curing the leaves as well. It's not as common. Maybe you would see that in someone's house, but that's not a very common thing you'd find in a store. But the same thing is packed into salt and maybe put under vinegar or oil in a jar.

 

Why are capers an important part of Sicilian cuisine?

I think they represent the earthy and even bitter and salty flavors that people like here. Capers grow wild and can be foraged food, so maybe that's why they became so popular. It was something people could pick without having to buy ingredients like that. We use them in so many different ways here, but I don't think just adding a caper makes a dish Sicilian.

 

How are capers used?

What's nice is that they can be used in everything—vegetable dishes, meat, and fish. And now we start to see them more in desserts. In Pantelleria, a few gelaterias make chocolate caper and oregano gelato. Then, on Salina, they do candied capers, which I don't see anywhere except on Salina, and that's really delicious. They put them with cannoli instead of chocolate chips at the end. It looks like a chocolate chip, but it's a candied caper.

 

People think the flavor of caper is salty, but it's only salty because you have to process it that way. But the ones in Pantelleria are very earthy and floral, so you can have capers in a dessert because it's not necessarily salty. It's caper flavor. It's not salt.

 

They're very versatile. We use them in a ton of recipes. They're a staple pantry item that most families have at their house. Most people will cure them for themselves.

 

What are your favorite caper dishes?

I like caper pesto because you can really taste the flavor. When you're going to use the capers in larger quantities, you do have to soak them, not just sprinkle them through a dish.

 

Capers tend to be in every single tomato salad. And in other parts of the Mediterranean, it's a staple—the tomato salad with capers in it. In Pantelleria, they have a typical salad made with potatoes, oregano, olives, and capers. It's in caponata, which is one of the most famous dishes of Sicily.

I like experimenting with some of the new things like caper powder. Caper leaves are a really beautiful way to apply garnish on top of fish. The seeds are interesting, and the caper berries are, too. They're beautiful as a little snack on a charcuterie platter. But they're really nice in cocktails, too, as a garnish instead of an olive in a martini or gin and tonic. 

 

How do you use caper powder?

I put it on roasted vegetable dishes, such as pumpkin or eggplant, and I use it on fish as well, just as a little sprinkle. Depending on how you make it, it's kind of earthy and a little bit salty.  

 

When you tour caper farms, what do you hope participants take away?

That there is a lot of work. One of the things that makes it more expensive is that they're all picked by hand. They're picked in the warmest months of the year, so spring through summer. The people who pick them, too, have to pick them while kind of crouching down. So it's physical work. And usually, they get paid per kilo that they pick. Historically, it has not been a great job to have because it's a lot of work and paid very little. But that's also why the little capers cost more than the big ones. It's more work to pick them; even if they're not priced by weight, they're priced by quantity.  

If you step on the branches, caper plants stop producing. It kind of grows out from the root like little spider legs on the ground, like a starburst. And the people have to pick them with their legs spread out, and they're leaning over and reaching. It's just physically a little difficult to pick.

 

That's why it's harder to cultivate them yourself. Because once you put people in the field on top of them, the plant's not willing to give you as much.

 

Caper resources

• For Sicilian travel inspiration, follow @thecheekychef on Instagram.
  
  
• Sign up for Linda's free mailing list to learn about upcoming food/wine programs and retreats in Sicily with The Cheeky Chef.
  
  
• Interested in visiting Pantelleria? Here's your insider guide.
  
  
• Capers from the Sicilian island of Pantelleria can be shipped to your door. Buy them from Linda's favorite Italian food importer, GUSTIAMO, and enjoy 10% off of your entire purchase with the discount code: cheekychef

 

Linda's favorite caper recipe: caponata

 

The noble dish was originally made with a fish called capone (no relation to Al), a small type of mahi-mahi, which gives it the now outdated name caponata. As many Sicilian dishes evolved and were modified for the masses, they changed to cheaper peasant dishes that typically used eggplant. There are variations of this recipe from town to town, from family to family, and sometimes it is made with artichokes in the springtime instead of eggplant, red pumpkin in winter, or even with apples. 

My recipe is adapted from cooking with my mentor Fabrizia Lanza, the research of eating every version of caponata in sight, and other tips and tricks I've picked up along the way.

 

I snuck in a few bits of chocolate to thicken up the sauce as an homage to the tradition of chocolate-making in southeastern Sicily in the town of Modica. In the province of Trapani, it is often topped with toasted almonds, and the tomato is optional. The secret is cooking each ingredient separately and then mixing them together in the end to marry all of the flavors.

 

• INGREDIENTS
• 1 small red onion, sliced
• 1 eggplant (dark black/purple Italian aubergine, which is oblong or teardrop-shaped) cut into 1-inch cubes
• 2 stalks of celery, sliced into small bite-sized pieces
• 3T. extra virgin olive oil
• 1/4c. red wine vinegar
• 2T cane sugar
• 1t high-quality tomato paste (estratto in italiano)
• 1/2c. pelati (whole, peeled canned tomatoes), roughly chopped
• 1/4c. Sicilian green olives, pitted and halved
• 1T capers packed in salt (the best ones come from the Sicilian islands of Pantelleria or Salina), soaked in warm water, then squeezed dry
• 2T. unsweetened chocolate, chopped into small pieces to easily melt down
• black pepper
• vegetable oil to deep fry
• sea salt to taste if needed

RECIPE (serves 5)

Blanch the chopped celery in heavily salted boiling water (without a lid) until bright green but still crunchy; strain out and shock in ice water before setting them aside for later.

 

Deep fry the eggplant cubes until they are dark brown (not burned, but much more than just golden). Allow the eggplant to float on the oil, and when they are finished frying, blot them on a few layers of paper towel to absorb the extra oil. Frying the eggplant helps it keep its shape and not turn your caponata into a mushy pâté.

 

In a shallow pan, sauté the red onion with some EVOO on medium-low heat until softened. 

 

Add the red wine vinegar, sugar, and tomato estratto to pickle the onions and create a thick agrodolce sweet-and-sour sauce. Add the pelati, give it a stir, and simmer over low heat for 10 minutes.

 

Season with black pepper, but do not add salt. 

 

Throw in a few chocolate bits (this is my secret) and let them melt into the sauce to give it some creaminess.

 

When cooled down, toss the fried eggplant in a large bowl with the sweet-and-sour onion/tomato mixture, adding the prepped capers and olives (these two ingredients should never be heated). 

 

At the last moment, mix in the celery to keep its green color. 

 

Check seasoning and add additional sea salt if necessary.

 

The olives and capers can both bring additional salt to this dish, so be careful with your seasoning.

 

Serve as a room-temperature side dish or on toasted bread as an appetizer. Caponata will taste even better the next day.

 

 

 

 

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A fixture of Milwaukee's Bay View, Pietro's Pizza has been serving pies since 1973, when Sicilian baker Filippo Tarantino finally saved up enough to open its doors, 14 years after he arrived in the United States. He named it after his son Pietro, who still now owns the popular business. 

 

A longtime member of Milwaukee's Italian Community Center who also served multiple terms on ICC's board of directors, Pietro co-hosted the public radio program Italian Hour with his sister, Enrica Tarantino-Woytal, for 25 years. He also served as the liaison between the Italian Community Center and Chicago's Consulate General of Italy and was part of the Comites, the Committee of Italians Abroad. In 2019, he earned the rank of Cavaliere dell'Ordine della Stella d'Italia, one of Italy's highest civilian honors. 

 

Pietro is what we Sicilians would call a paisano. He hails from the town of Porticello, where my grandparents grew up and where I still have family. We recently discussed how Pietro ended up in Milwaukee, his memories of Sicily, and, of course, pizza.

 

 

Tell us about yourself and how you ended up in Milwaukee.

I was born in Porticello and attended school there. When I was 15 years old, I came to the U.S. in 1969.

My father had already lived in Milwaukee for 10 years, working for Grebe's Bakery. He came here in 1959 on a labor contract visa. He was a master baker in Porticello, with his own bakery not too far from the tobacco store.

 

Some of my family on both sides, on my father's side and then on my mother's side, had been in Milwaukee. Actually, my grandfather on my father's side was here in 1895 and left in 1905. He was here for 10 years. Then, my grandfather, who was on my mother's side, was here from 1922 until 1933. So there were some roots here, and my great aunt lived there. That's why he came here.

 

In Milwaukee, my father also worked at Angelo's Pizza, where he was the dough maker. He used to go there every day from noon until two or three to make their pizza dough. Then he would come home, have a cup of coffee, hop on the bus again, and go to Grebe's Bakery. He started working around 4:30 in the afternoon.

 

Tell us about your memories of Porticello.

Porticello? It's a dream. When you live there, you don't know what kind of treasures you have. It's just like when someone is free and doesn't know what freedom is until they go to another country where they've been controlled. You know what I mean? That town is a gem.

 

When I return, I always go to the old side, not the new one. And a lot of people ask me, "How come you're hanging around the old portion of town?" Well, that's where my memories are. That's where my youth was. That's where I used to walk with my grandfather. That's what I played with the other kids. We used to play around in Punta Santa Nicolicchia. 

 

So that is Porticello. It's a sweet place. It's a dream. I mean, all of Sicily is like that. You look to the right, and there is water; you look to the left, and there are mountains. And the beauty is that within 10 minutes of traveling, there is so much diversity. That's unbelievable. You go from flowers all the way up to pine trees and then on top of the port to those ruins at Solunto. One does not know what you have until you leave.

In Porticello, at night, you can open your windows, close your eyes, and hear the waves hitting the rocks. You don't need to have the TV on. You don't need to go to the nightclub for heavy music. Nature is to be appreciated. And then, of course, fresh fish comes there daily. And you can eat that fish. You can actually eat fish at eight o'clock that were caught maybe at four or five. So when you cook it, it's still alive. So that's the beauty of it.

 

You know what? You can take me away from Porticello, but you cannot take Porticello away from my heart.

Unless you are an immigrant, you really don't know the feeling of going away from the way life was. It's my culture, even though I've lived in America for 55 years now.

But Milwaukee is part of my life as well. 

 

Let's talk about Milwaukee.

Milwaukee has been good to the Italians. Milwaukee is a good community: nice, quiet, clean. They accept everybody—Milwaukee's good, period. And you know where the Italians went? Most of it went to the east side, and the other portion went to the Bayview area. We went to the Bayview area.

I've done a lot in Milwaukee. I went to school, I got my degrees, I did numerous jobs, and I made sure that the pizza place stayed open in order to hit 50 years. Right now, it's 51 years.

 

What are some of the ingredients and techniques that reflect your father's legacy?

The dough is the main thing. And I had to master that because with my dad, he never measured anything. It was just a little bit of this, a little bit of that. So it was very difficult. But I had to learn and ask questions because making dough is very difficult. You have to check the temperature and humidity, which tells you how much yeast or the temperature of the water you have to use. You need to know what kind of flour you need, even though it's the same brand. So you have to be careful.

 

That's the main thing that my father mastered. After all, when my father was a baker, it's not like nowadays, where you dump your dry ingredients in the mixing bowl and have the water that's already been measured, and you're done. They'd make their own yeast, what they call lievito madre. I remember my father used to go at 11 o'clock at night to do that. 

 

What's your signature pizza? 

I'm dealing with an American clientele, so the pizza we sell the most is cheese, sausage, mushrooms, and onions. But my father's signature was sfincione.

 

We make sfincione for the Italian Golf Invitational. And I make it every year. 

 

What do you hope your customers will take away from their dining experience?

Well, first of all, it's very fresh. I mean, I make dough every day right now. I use the freshest ingredients that I can. The vegetables and sausage are fresh, too. I get it delivered every week. Nothing is pre-cooked.

After being in the same location for that long, I've built rapport with all the people in Bay View. Some of the customers are the grandkids of the people we served when we started.

 

You have that kind of relationship with the clientele; that's the best thing, the human side of it. It's fantastic. It actually helped me grow. That's why I love Milwaukee as well.

 

 

 

 

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A symbol of the city of Catania and typical of Sicilian cuisine, pasta alla Norma is the perfect eggplant dish. The recipe is simple, marrying tomato and eggplant with basil, garlic, and sometimes red pepper flakes. It's bound to convert eggplant haters to aubergine aficionados. 

Christina Pirello of PBS's Christina Cooks: Back to the Cutting Board was in the eggplant-hater camp—until she tasted so-called melanzane in Sicily. 

Christina, who also leads food tours of Puglia and Sicily, adds lentils to her twist on this Sicilian classic.

 

She took time out to share the history of pasta alla Norma, how to prepare eggplant, and what she hopes you'll take away from her plant-based, protein-packed aubergine recipe.

 

 

Tell us about your background. Where is your Italian family from?

The Italian side of my family is from Castelemare di Stabia, a bayside town outside Naples. They came from the poor side of town, as most of our ancestors did. My nonna, Elena Cordasco, was the youngest of seventeen (yup, seventeen). They came to America in groups and she was in the last group at 13 years old.

 

My nonno, who I adored, Girardo Stabile, was one of seven children and came to the U.S. when he was 16. They met when my nonna was 16, and they didn't know each other in Italy, even though they were from the same town. They married and had three children: my mother and her sister and brother.

 

We were always with my nonni. They lived either upstairs or next door, so they were a constant in my life, as were my nonna's nine sisters. I loved to be with them and my mother in the kitchen. My family always yelled as a way to communicate, but I noticed in the kitchen that they sang, laughed, and worked symphonically together smoothly, with no issues. That was what I wanted.

 

Describe your experiences in Sicily. What left a lasting impression?

My husband is Sicilian on both sides of his family, as far back as he can trace, so our experiences there often revolve around family. His aunts and cousins are all amazing cooks. I guess the most lasting impression is that the food in Sicily is pure magic. The simplest ingredients, cooked fresh with great olive oil, create feast after feast. I was not a big fan of eggplant (I know it's blasphemous) until I had it cooked for me in Sicily. The tomatoes are little pieces of heaven, and the oil is like gold.
 

Why didn't you like eggplant, and what changed that?

As a kid, my Neopolitan family used eggplant all the time, and I just did not care for the texture of it. When I traveled to Sicily and saw and tasted what they did with eggplant, my mind was changed, and I fell in love with it.

 

What is the history of pasta alla Norma?

It was named in honor of the native of Catania, Vincenzo Bellini, the composer of the opera Norma. It is said that the Italian writer Nino Martoglio exclaimed, "This is a real 'Norma!'" meaning a masterpiece (like the opera) when he tasted the dish. However, the name was not dedicated to this dish until decades after Martoglio's death.

 

Where did you encounter the best pasta alla Norma dish?

Ah, this makes me laugh, as I think the best Norma is mine! I add red lentils to the sauce to make it thick and rich-tasting, and I love it. That said, my husband's late Aunt Pina made a great Norma. There was just something about the way she cooked that lent a delicacy to this hearty dish.

 

What inspired you to create your particular version of pasta alla Norma?

I wanted to make the sauce thick and rich, and of course, we wanted to add protein, as we are both active. Since red lentils break down easily, they were the perfect solution.

 

How do you ensure the eggplant remains tender and not too oily when cooking?

I soak my eggplant in salted water and rinse it well before cooking. This not only removes the alkaloid "solanine," making the eggplant easier to digest, but it also makes it more porous, so you don't need to bathe it in oil as you cook, and it still comes out richly flavored.

 

What do you hope readers will take away from this dish?

I would like people to realize that you can, in fact, make a perfect pasta dish…one that is good for you, delicious, and gives you all the nutrition you need. You can break with tradition and create a new dish that honors tradition as well.

 

>>Get Christina's pasta alla Norma recipe here!<<

 

 

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Emerging in the 19th century, when Sicily's working class would gather nightly to watch puppet shows for entertainment, Opera dei Pupi is today recognized by Unesco as a Masterpiece of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of humanity. Generations of marionette puppeteers carried on the tradition, also known as Teatro dei Pupi, performing stories from medieval chivalric literature, Renaissance Italian poems, saints' lives, and tales of bandits, often improvising the dialogue.

 

In its heyday, there were about forty Opera dei Pupi theaters. Today, 10 companies perform in six Sicilian towns. 

 

Times have changed. The COVID-19 pandemic didn't help. But the art continues—thanks in part to Syracuse puppeteer Daniel Mauceri. 

  

For 40 years, Daniel's family has carried on the tradition of building puppets and staging performances. The puppet artist grew up with hands often covered in paint, surrounded by the scent of wood and the sounds of grandfather Alfredo Vaccaro, tinkering away with his utensils.

 

Daniel credits his father, Umberto Mauceri, with nurturing his manual skills, which he uses today in creating and restoring puppets that appear in private homes as well as in international museums. And, of course, there are those puppets reserved for puppet shows. 

 

Performances are geared for all ages, tapping into classical themes and stories as well as new interpretations. The theater caters to all ages and even offers shows in English by request.

 

I recently caught up with Daniel to learn more about his art and adherence to tradition, as well as puppetry's place in modern society. 

 

 

What is your background?

I am originally from Sicily, a land that lives and breathes the tradition of the Opera dei Pupi. I live and work in Ortigia in Syracuse, among workshops and theaters that were part of my childhood and my growth as an artist.

 

What inspired you to continue the family tradition of Opera dei Pupi?

I was born and raised within this ancient art. Even as a child, I knew and wanted to become a puppeteer. Growing up surrounded by puppets and everything that revolves around them has fueled in me a deep bond with this tradition. I felt the need to give it new life, respecting the roots but also adding my personal touch by creating an association that allows me to perform shows and a brand that bears my name, "Daniel Mauceri Arte Pupara dal 1978."
 

What are some of the most difficult aspects of creating these puppets?

One of the most challenging aspects is certainly maintaining the high-quality craftsmanship of each puppet, respecting the precision in the details. Each work requires hours of meticulous work, from the carving of the wood to the painting of the faces to the embossing and chiseling of the armor. Each step is essential to conveying the authenticity and emotion of this work.
 

How do you ensure each puppet maintains the traditional elements while also incorporating your own unique artistic touch?

Respect for detail is key. Each puppet comes out of a studio and still follows the classic canons in realization, such as the use of authentic materials and traditional techniques. However, in the creative process, I add a personal touch, both in the expressions of the paper-mâché faces to give each puppet a personality that distinguishes it and in the creation of the armor.
 

What materials do you use for the puppets?

The puppets are mainly made of pine and beech wood, paper-mâché for the faces of the puppets, and copper, brass, nickel, silver, or bronze (all beaten by hand) for the armor. I find the materials through national suppliers.
 

How has the art of Sicilian puppets evolved over the years, and what role do you think it plays in modern culture?

The art of puppets has changed little in its essence, but today, it has a different value. It has become a cultural symbol that represents Sicily all over the world. In modern culture, puppet theater acts as a bridge between past and present, educating and fascinating new generations.
 

What is one of your most memorable moments as a puppeteer?

One of the most memorable moments was seeing a child's reaction during a performance. His eyes lit up, and at that moment, I realized that, despite modern times, puppet art still has the power to enchant. This same child, now grown up, helps me during the shows by moving my puppets.

What advice would you give someone interested in learning the art of Sicilian puppets?

I recommend studying the tradition in depth and approaching the puppet families with humility. You could also initially take advantage of my workshops on the construction of the puppets. It is important to understand that this tradition tells an ancient story. You have to respect the times and methods of the past, but don't be afraid to add something personal.

 

>>Learn more about Daniel Mauceri Arte Pupara dal 1978 here!<<

 

 

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Late summer to early fall was harvest season for my Sicilian grandfather's garden, where he grew, among other things, five-foot-long cucuzzi (also known as snake squash or bottle gourd) with seeds from Palermo. He'd bring it in for my grandmother, along with some of the leaves they called tenerumi, and she'd cook both in soups and stews. 

You won't find cucuzza in a supermarket. Most cucuzza cooks grow it themselves. I recently spotted cucuzzi hanging from a fence near my home in the San Fernando Valley. 

But every so often, this Sicilian specialty makes an appearance at farmers markets. That's where Northern California food storyteller Simona Carini encountered her first U.S.-grown cucuzza, a squash she'd only previously seen in Sicily. 

Simona bought that cucuzza along with its leaves and created her own recipe, cucuzza e tenerumi al pomodoro. She shared with me the story behind the recipe and what she hopes readers will take away from her blog.

 

 

Tell me about your background.

I was born and grew up in Perugia, Central Italy, where I spent the first half of my life. I went to school there, my friends are there, and my family is there. At age 30ish, I moved to Northern California. My husband is American.

 

My last name is Sicilian. Carini is an ancient town not far from Palermo. However, my immediate family is not from Sicily. On both my mom's and my father's sides, our family is from Lazio, about 40 miles north of Rome, although my maternal grandmother was from Croatia, from Split.

 

When did you first encounter tenerumi and cucuzzi?

So it was 1980, which historically, for Italy, was a very hard summer. In June, a passenger plane was shot down over the island of Ustica. And shortly after that, there was a bomb in the city of Bologna. That was the year I flew for the first time.

 

We spent a couple of weeks there in this little town not far from Carini, which is called Villagrazia di Carini. And why there? It's because three of my classmates from elementary school were originally from Sicily. And I guess their uncle had a house there. We were basically 17 or 18; there were seven of us. And we hopped on a plane. It was my first flight, and we spent two weeks there. So that was the first time I had tenerumi.

We weren't really cooking, but we were in this small community, mostly of locals. We were not in a tourist place, so they kind of took pity on us because we were without anybody. And so I remember this neighbor bringing over pasta with tenerumi. I asked what it was, and I was told it was the leaves of young zucchini, but that was it. 

Fast-forward. In 2007, I went back to Sicily with my husband, and we stayed in Palermo. We went to the market, and finally, I saw the cucuzza with the tenerumi. However, at the time, we were staying in hotels, so I couldn't really cook anything, but I took pictures.

 

So, for the first experience, we had the kitchen, but we weren't cooking, and for the second, I was cooking, but I didn't have a kitchen. 

Then, in 2019, we were living in Berkeley, and I used to go to the farmers market on Saturday morning. I got there, and it was really funny because there was this group of people crowding around something. And this something was actually cucuzza and tenerumi.

 

They had never seen it. And one of the farm helpers was explaining. 

The cucuzza had been harvested young, so it was shorter, but I bought it, and people were looking at me like, "How are you going to cook it?"

I was like, well, I know in Sicily they make pasta, they make soup. I developed my recipe mostly because I didn't want to make soup. I wasn't interested in trying to make pasta, so I wanted to cook it as vegetables. And so I basically put together what I had—the tenerumi and the cucuzza, tomato from the farmers market, and onion. So that's how I kind of developed the recipe. 

 

What is the history of the cucuzza?

The thing about the cucuzza is that this plant actually came from Africa. It's been in Europe for a lot longer than zucchini. Then zucchini kind of took over. 

 

Can you speak to the idea of consuming the whole plant? 

This idea just speaks to me. It's a little bit like the tradition we have in Italy of using everything.

 

What do you hope that at-home cooks will take away from this recipe and your work?

Things don't have to be complicated, particularly Sicilian cooking. I mean, look at desserts, for example. Sicily has quintessentially decadent desserts if you think of cassata and all that kind of stuff. But the food itself is very simple. They cook fresh fish, they have vegetables, they have fruit, they make wonderful bread. And so I really try to make it so that people are less worried about the end result or if it fits some specific idea or if it is authentic.  

 

The whole thing about authenticity is very difficult because if we look at the history of migration from Italy, people left because they were starving. I mean, not everyone, but there was an enormous amount of poverty. They came from Sicily or, in general, southern Italy; they arrived in New Jersey or New York. 

I remember a friend of mine told me that she could always tell an Italian family because, in the winter, they would wrap up their fig tree. And I understand that everybody has fig trees in Italy; they don't need any care, and the fruit is good. But if you live in New Jersey or New York, you have to be careful about the winter. So what happened is that people had to adapt because they just didn't have the ingredients. So, already, to me, authenticity is not the right way to look at this. It is adaptability, which is how these people try to hold on to their traditions in a place that is completely foreign. And that's beautiful. 

 

>>Get Simona's cucuzza e tenerumi al pomodoro recipe here!<<

 

 

 

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Among the most commonly consumed nightshades, the eggplant is a favorite among market-goers.

 
Celebrated for their varying shapes and colors, these versatile vegetables (technically fruits) are rich in anti-inflammatory anthocyanins and the essential trace element manganese, which is important to bone formation. They are also full of fiber. 

 
It's no wonder they've taken a foothold in Sicilian cuisine. But there would be no pasta alla Norma, pasta 'ncasciata, or eggplant Parmesan without the arrival of the Arabs in the ninth or tenth century, says Clifford Wright, a James Beard award-winning author of 19 books on cooking, food, history, and politics. His latest tome, An Italian Feast: The Celebrated Provincial Cuisines of Italy from Como to Palermo, features more than 800 recipes from the 109 provinces of Italy's 20 regions.

 
We recently discussed the eggplant's fascinating history and how its perception and use have evolved over the centuries.

 

 

What is your background, and how did you become interested in Italian food history?

I began cooking in 1967. I'm part Italian [with family from Pago Veiano in the province of Benevento in Campania]. My mother cooked Italian-American food; it was my home food. I also worked in restaurants whose chefs were Italian, and lastly, I often traveled to Italy and loved the food.

 

How did the eggplant first arrive in Southern Italy, and what were the initial reactions to eggplants?

Although most botanists believe southeastern India is the place of origin of the eggplant, and some botanists make a case for China, as well as the Malay peninsula, the place of origin is still unknown. Nikolai Vavilov identified the mountains of central and western China and its adjacent areas as the place of origin and India as the center of origin. It seems clear, though, that India is, at least, a secondary area of origin. The cultivated eggplant appears to be an improved form of either S. insanum or S. incanum, both of which are native to India.

 

What is the history of the eggplant?

Arab agriculturists brought the eggplant to the Mediterranean from Persia and perhaps from the Arabian Peninsula in the ninth or tenth centuries. The Arabs seem to have discovered the eggplant already growing in Persia shortly after their conquest of that country in 642 A.D., although several ancient Arabic names for the eggplant seem to come directly from other Indian names, indicating that the plant may have arrived in the Arabian Peninsula in pre-Islamic times. 

The Arabs have long been fond of eggplant, and medieval Arabic cookery manuscripts always have many recipes. Although eggplant was initially treated with suspicion, it soon became a favorite vegetable. In fact, the medieval Arab toxicologist Ibn Waḥshīya (circa 904) said it was fatal when eaten raw. 

Sicily was one of the first places in Europe where eggplant was grown after being introduced by Arab farmers. They were grown in Spain by the tenth century, although the first clear reference to them in Sicily is from 1309, where they are called melingianas and are grown in a garden along with cucumbers and a kind of gourd (squash).

Although the eggplant was once called "mad apple" (mala insana) because it was thought to produce insanity, this expression is not the etymological root of the Italian and Sicilian words for eggplant, melanzane, and mulinciana, respectively. 

The Italian and Sicilian words derive from the Arabic word for the plant, bādhinjān, with the addition of the initial "M." 

There are numerous recipes for eggplant from thirteenth-century Spain. This is notable because eggplant was a relatively new vegetable in Europe, and this is an early date for its being common.

Tortilla de berenjenas, an eggplant puree tortilla from Seville, is a recipe from the thirteenth-century Arab-Andalusi cookbook of Ibn Razīn al-Tujībī, the Kitāb faḍālat al-khiwān fī ṭayyibāt al-ṭacam wa'l-alwān.

 

How did the perception of eggplant change?

The eggplant probably began as an ornamental in gardens as it was thought to be poisonous. Slowly, it became a Sicilian favorite. 

 

What's a favorite traditional Sicilian dish that prominently features eggplant?

Certainly there is eggplant Parmesan. Although also popular in Campania, it is typically Sicilian.

 

For further insight and eggplant recipes, check out Clifford's books, A Mediterranean Feast, An Italian Feast, and Mediterranean Vegetables, available at cliffordawright.com or through your favorite online bookseller. 

 

 

 

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My mother was born in the U.S., but she didn't speak English until kindergarten. Instead, she spoke Sicilian as she was brought up in a Sicilian-speaking household. She's retained the language and uses it to communicate with our family back in Palermo and Porticello. 

While I don't speak much Italian myself, I am most familiar with the Sicilian language. 

Notice I didn't say dialect? That's because Sicilian is a separate language with a rich history that predates the Italian language. Recognized as a minority language by UNESCO and the European Charter for Regional or Minority Languages, Sicilian has its own Wikipedia section and is a featured Google Translate language.

For more insight into this unique Romance language, I sat down for a Zoom session with Gaetano Cipolla, a retired professor of Italian and Chairman of the Department of Modern Foreign Languages at St. John's University in New York City. Professor Cipolla additionally serves as president of Arba Sicula, an organization that promotes the language and culture of Sicily. 

 

 

What is your background?

I was born in Sicily. I am from Francavilla di Sicilia. I came here as an immigrant in 1955, and, well, it's been a long time. I taught at St. John's and several other universities in the metropolitan area: NYU, Fordham… and others. 

I became the president of Arba Sicula in 1988. I was also the editor for its publications.

 

I've published several books on Sicilian grammar. One is called Learn Sicilian, which is already in its fourth reprint. The second one is called Learn Sicilian II, which is a continuation. It presumes that you have studied Sicilian, that you know some Sicilian. It's an advanced course for Sicilian.

 

How are your books being used?

The first book, Learn Sicilian, is being used as a textbook in many different places. It's being used at Italian Charities of America here in New York. It was used also at the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia. And it is used in New Orleans, Buffalo, New York, and Rochester. The first grammar book was translated into Italian by a colleague of mine who teaches at the Manouba University in Tunis. He is the chair of Sicilian studies there, and he's teaching Sicilian using my textbook. 

I had no idea that I was going to be able to see my textbook being used anywhere because it's very difficult to introduce not only a new language into a program, for example, at St. John's. I mean, I could have done it there, but not as part of the curriculum because people would probably object. What is the need for it? But I am glad to tell you that the first book is being used and bought in America by many, many people. 

 

Tell us about your translation work.

I am a translator of Sicilian poetry. I translate all of the major poets who have written in Sicilian because, as you know, most people think wrongly that Sicilian is a dialect and a corruption of Italian, which is absolutely wrong. 

I have actually produced two series of books that introduce Americans to Sicilian poetry because I believe that poets are a country's best ambassadors. 

 

How did the various historical rulers of Sicily influence the Sicilian language?

If you study Sicilian, you will find that it has all the different words introduced into the language by the various people who have been there—mostly Spanish, Arab, French, even German, of course, Italian, and even English lately. Sicilian is an amalgam, a mixture of all different things. However, it retains its characteristics and its own language. And it is one of the very few original languages. Sicilian has been spoken in Sicily since the inception of civilization.

When the Siculi came to Sicily, they spoke a language that was similar to Latin. We don't know for sure, but we think that they came from the region of Lazio. And so they spoke a language that was very similar to Latin. That was their original language. Some people believe that it actually survived all the different invasions and the different dominations that have come and gone, some of which left marks on the language and some of which didn't. For example, the Vandals came to Sicily, but not very many words of the Vandals or the Ostrogoths actually remain. 

For the first 150 years of Italian literature, whatever poetry was written in Italy, not just in Sicily, was written in Sicilian. Sicilians created the language in a sense, and then it moved up north after Frederick II, who created the Scuola Siciliana in the 13th century, died. So whenever people say that Sicilian is the corruption of Italian, it is absolutely wrong; Sicilian is its own language. If people say that Dante is the father of the language, which he truly is, then we must think that the mother of the Italian language is Sicily. 

 

Are there variations of the language across Sicily?

There are many variations. If you go to Sicily, when you go from one town to the next, even five miles away, you will notice differences because the language spoken there is part of their history. You have to go back into the history of the town in order to find out why things are different.

When I started working on the Sicilian language, most people, even my colleagues who don't know Sicilian that well, asked me which Sicilian I was going to teach. I said Sicilian is one language. It is not a hundred different languages. Of course, I know that they will speak in a certain way in Catania. In Palermo, the same word will be pronounced differently. In Ragusa, it will also be pronounced differently. For example, I'll give you one word, the word for door, which is porta. In Catania, it will be pronounced so the consonant becomes like two Ts, which sounds like "potta." Or if you say morte, in Catania, they say "motti." However, the same words in Palermo will be pronounced differently. Morte will be pronounced "moitti." 

 

So, it's almost an "oi" sound.

Yes. It introduced a little something, an "i" there, that colors everything. Each parlante of the 10 differences that we see doesn't impede communication. In other words, if there's someone in Palermo who says "moiti" instead of morte, all Sicilians will understand it. Sicilian is pretty homogeneous when you write it. So, if you write Sicilian, you will write it one way. I've never seen the word porta written other than porta. The variations exist, but not in the written language.

 

Is Sicilian more of an oral language than written?

Most people, except poets and scholars, don't write Sicilian because they consider it sort of an oral language. Most people don't even think that Sicilian can be written. Whenever I presented my mother with a page or word from my Arba Sicula journal, she would look at it; she would sort of verbalize it in her mouth. And once she knew what the word was, she said it perfectly. 

A couple of months ago, I was giving a lecture at the Italian Charities, and there was a man who's been a member for many, many years—he's in his seventies. He said, Professor Cipolla, all my life, I have thought that Sicilian could not be written. I learned that Sicilian could be written only when I saw your work.

 

What are some unique phonetic or grammatical features that distinguish Sicilian from standard Italian?

A feature that is probably difficult for Sicilians is the sound of words like the song "Ciuri, Ciuri." We have had difficulty actually coming up with a way of writing that sound. Most people would write it with a cedilla like in Spanish underneath the "C." But other people would just pronounce it with a "C," which is obviously not the right sound because that would be "Churi" and not "Shuri." So even words like shirt, for example, would be camicia, pronounced "camicha" in Italian, but "camisha" in Sicilian.

  

What do you hope that people will take away from your lessons and your writings about the Sicilian language?

My work tries to educate the American public about the values and contributions that the Sicilians have made throughout their long 3000-year history. And it's a job that is never finished because Sicilian culture is a vast microcosm. Sicilians have lived for 3000 years, sometimes independent, sometimes dependent on various different dominators. But Sicilians have always kept their identity. One of the goals of my organization is to not only promote Sicilian culture but to educate people. 

 

>>For more info and Sicilian language resources, visit arbasicula.org.<< 

 

 

 

 

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At the back of my Sicilian grandfather's impressive rose and vegetable garden, there stood a cage where, at the end of summer and early autumn, you would find enormous squashes hanging from the trellised roof. Nonno would pick these sometimes five-foot-long fruits, called cucuzzi, and bring them in for Nonna to prepare in a stew. 

A similar cucuzza dish was recently cooked on an episode of PBS's The Great American Recipe by finalist Marcella DiChiara, aka @BostonHomeCooking, who says she's "just a Sicilian girl trying to demystify and simplify the art of cooking."

Marcella and I sat down to chat about her Great American Recipe experience and the Sicilian art of growing and cooking cucuzzi. 

 

 

What is your background?

My parents were both born in Sicily. My mother is from Siracusa, and my father is from the Province of Catania, a really small town right outside of Catania called Palagonia. My dad did not come to this country until much later in life, in his early thirties, maybe very late twenties. My mother came when she was 10.

My mom speaks perfect English, but my father, Luigi, not so much. They live in Connecticut, which has a pretty large population of Italians, particularly Sicilians. 

I've been an avid cook my whole life. I've no formal training whatsoever. 

 

You were a finalist on The Great American Recipe. Tell us about that experience.

I made it to the finale, which was really exciting. One of the last dishes you make before the finale is something called "Your Recipe DNA." And it's supposed to be a dish that literally defines who you are both culturally and spiritually.

So, for me, there was absolutely no question that I was going to make cucuzza. And I was probably, in the same token, going to be introducing many, many people to this idea of this gourd. 

Most people don't know what it is. It's not found anywhere in groceries or even at most farmer's markets. It's not found. And really, the only way you can come across cucuzza is if you grow them or you have an uncle or grandfather who grows them. 

I knew the culinary producers would not be able to find a cucuzza for me. They told me, "I'm sorry, you're going to need to come up with an alternative dish. This isn't going to work for us." We don't know what that is, and we can't find it. 

So I said, "If I can get my hands on one and have it shipped, may I use it?" 

They said, "Good luck finding one."

This was in October, so we were at the end of the growing season. I called a million places, and I found J. Louis Liuzza of Liuzza's Cucuzza Farm in Independence, Louisiana. I messaged him on Facebook. He next-day air-mailed the most beautiful cucuzza I've ever seen in a wooden crate to the show. 

I was so happy that I was able to prepare this dish on national television, which was really a really unique opportunity and a really sort of proud moment for me culturally from my perspective of growing up with this food, which, to me, is just synonymous with love and health and healing and history and simplicity. I mean everything that you would think of when you think of Sicilian culture; I just can't think of a better representation in one food that sort of encompasses all of that.

 

What cucuzza dish did you make on the show?

I made a classic cucuzza stew with broken spaghetti, tomatoes, potatoes. I really wanted the essence of the squash itself to stand and speak for itself without overcomplicating it. Because to me, even though there are myriad ways you can prepare cucuzza, this was the way that I remembered it as a kid. And so I wanted to make sure that I kind of did that process justice just by presenting it in its simplest form.

 

How was your cucuzza recipe received by The Great American Recipe judges?

Well, I made one of the judges, Francis Lam, cry. Tiffany Derry, a restaurateur, has been to Sicily, so she had heard of it but never tasted it. Tim Hollingsworth, a famous chef from L.A., had never had it either.

It was greatly received. I won that round. 

The show is not a cutthroat competition. It's really more about showcasing how food connects us in America because we are a melting pot. We are made up of so many different cultures and so many different traditions. And food is sort of that common denominator. Even though we all have different traditions and flavor profiles, it's what kind of brings us all together. 

I think the way I expressed my excitement for the cucuzza and the joy it brought me, that storyline… They liked that. 

 

How did you land on the show?

I was contacted by a casting agent out of L.A. who happened to stumble across my Instagram. They were looking for different pockets in different regions of the country to ensure that they had good, well-rounded representation. My Instagram handle is @BostonHomeCooking, and they were trying to check that New England box. So it just happened to be really good luck.

 

You say you geek out about cucuzzi.

People laugh. So many people have tasted cucuzza for the first time because of me. It's just my love language. It's weird. I know it's a weird obsession, but I do love it.

 

Do you grow your own cucuzza plants?

I did this year, yes. 

Every year, I go on this pilgrimage to find cucuzza somewhere. Somebody's got to be growing it. One of my uncles, one of my cousins, whoever it is. But because we live in New England, and this is a very sensitive squash that requires a lot of heat and a good setup, some seasons they would yield a lot and others they wouldn't.

I was just so tired every year of begging to people for their cucuzzas. So I just decided that I was going to just grow them myself. Fortunately, I had an excellent growing season this year. I think I yielded six, and I still have two more on the vine, which is a lot for the space that I allotted. 

 

What's your cucuzza-growing set-up?

I used netting initially for the vines to climb, just to facilitate the climbing. There's a couple ways you could do it. You do not need anything fancy. You could grow snake squash on the ground. 

It does not need to be elevated. The only reason why people do that is because it grows straight. When it's on the ground, it's really going to be formless, and that's when you get a lot of those spiral ones. 

I wanted mine straight though. I had a vision in mind, and so I used some netting. What I did was I took one of my kids' old soccer nets that they were no longer using, cut it into pieces, and hung it down from the top of a pergola. It kind of grew up from there, and then it grew so out of control that it was over the fence, well into my neighbor's yard. He's the nicest guy and very tolerant of my hobby.

I think my biggest one was almost four feet long, and it was hanging in his yard. He had no idea what it was. As a thank you, I'm going to make him and his wife a pot of cucuzza stew just to say thanks. 

You said your father grew cucuzza plants when you were a kid.

My dad had a very elaborate, thriving garden and still does, but because they spend time in Italy, he can't really go too crazy. 

To the cousins and family members that I have in Italy, getting excited about cucuzza would be the equivalent of getting excited about a piece of gum. They're just like, "Okay, calm down."

"It's not that deep," my son says.

 

It is to me!

My daughter is 15, and I've made it my life's work as her mother to teach her how to make this dish because I am scared that this will sort of get watered out of our cultural identity. 

For me, it's very important to make sure that I continue those traditions with her and to emphasize how important it is for her to do the same.

 

Where do you get your cucuzza seeds?

So, my dad brought me some Sicilian seeds, but to be honest with you, the best seeds I got were from my contact in Louisiana. My dad's are this monochromatic lime green—nothing special, but the three-tone from Louisiana… It's almost like tie-dyed or tiger-striped. I've never seen it in Sicily, and neither has my father. 

 

How long does a cucuzza take to harvest?

I indoor plant my seeds in April. They sprout very quickly. Within two weeks, they're about six to 12 inches tall. From there, once they can sort of stand on their own, I then plant them in ground or in my raised garden bed. And it's a very quick growth in terms of leaves and vines, but the cucuzza themselves didn't start growing until July.

It's all temperature-dependent. Our summers don't start to get very hot in New England until mid-July, and the cucuzza is a very heat-loving plant. Once you get past the six inch mark, you're past the danger zone. You'll get 30 or 40 little ones that are maybe four or six inches, and they'll die on the vine, shrivel up, and die. 

If you are having problems producing at all, it might mean that you don't have any insects pollinating for you. So you can self-pollinate. You can take a Q-tip. Or if you're really rustic, you just rip the flower off and [rub the male and female flowers together]. I did that for a few flowers, but most of the ones that grew, I didn't have to do.

It sounds intimidating, but it's really not. You've just got to water them every day, and you to have a good hot summer, which is why Sicily is the perfect island to grow them on.

 

Is there a secret to growing a bountiful cucuzza harvest?

There's all kinds of wives tales about what you should add to your soil. My dad is adamant that he takes the old espresso grinds from his coffee machine and then sprinkles them into the soil, which I did that. I have no idea if that really does anything. I also use manure just to sort of naturally fertilize and that's it.

 

How do you store cucuzzi after harvesting?

They don't all come out at once. They're very scattered in terms of the rate of growth and production. I prepare one almost immediately, and then a week later, another one will be ready to pick, and another. So it is spread out.

The best way to maintain your stash would be to cut it, peel it, and blanche it. Then drain it, airtight it, and then freeze it. 

 

What's the texture and taste of cucuzza versus zucchini?

I always have the hardest time describing cucuzza to people. It's not like a zucchini. Zucchini, to me, does not have a sweet undertone at all. This does, and it's almost like the texture and consistency of what you'd have if you were to cook a cucumber.

Zucchini has a very distinct, almost earthy flavor, whereas a cucuzza, to me, tastes like candy.

My kids are like, "Do you know what candy tastes like?"

Maybe that's the wrong word for them. But when I say that, I just mean the sweetness. You really don't have to do much in terms of enhancing it.

 

What are some ways to cook cucuzzi?

The classic way is just the stew, which ironically is a soup essentially, and nobody would ever think that you would eat soup in the summer, particularly in Sicily, when it can be upwards of 110 [degrees Fahrenheit]. But they do. It's like this weird exception where they just eat it in the summer. 

 

What I've been learning from some cucuzza Facebook groups is that down south, they marry it quite often with shrimp, which is something I had never done or thought to do. They almost do a jambalaya-type dish.

 

I like it fried, just straight-up fried with a little balsamic vinegar, and then obviously the pasta. I make different versions of it. I'll add sweet potatoes just to give it a different flavor profile. 

 

When you share your love for growing and cooking cucuzza, what do you hope people take away?

I hope people are open to the idea of connecting to produce that is so indigenous to such a small island and appreciate its uniqueness because it is not plentiful where we are here in the United States. I want them to appreciate it in a way that you wouldn't necessarily give a regular vine vegetable. It's really a marvel.

 

>>Get Marcella's Cucuzza stew recipe here!<<

 

 

 

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In the wake of the popular series From Scratch and season two of The White Lotus, Sicily's having its moment as a destination. But that wasn't always the case. Little was known of the region in the U.S.—except for its ties to organized crime and mobster movies. 

Writer and native New Yorker Mary Taylor Simeti had a different view. Living in Palermo and working on her husband's family farm, she sought to share insights into the island's sacred festivals, colorful residents, and vibrant produce.  

The result, On Persephone's Island: A Sicilian Journal, transported to a whole new world, rich with introspection into what it means to be both a foreigner and a resident on Italy's largest island.

Mary spoke to me about the challenge of publishing such a book in the 1980s. Thankfully, the former regular contributor to the New York Times and Financial Times persisted and followed up with Pomp and Sustenance, the first English-language Sicilian cookbook.

 

Read on for our chat about the fascinating history of Sicily's food and how, at Bosco Falconeria, she and her husband paved the way for the island's certified organic farming movement. 

 

 

Tell me about your background.

Well, I am American-born and grew up mostly in New York City. But as soon as I finished college, I came to Sicily to work as a volunteer for Danilo Dolci, who had a center outside of Palermo for development work. Sicily was still extremely poor, and there was still a lot of bomb damage and other damage from the war and also from centuries of invasion and exploitation. I meant to stay for a year. I've been here now; well, it'll be 62 years next month.

 

Where in Sicily are you?

I started out in Partinico, and then I spent 25 years in Palermo. And then we moved out once our children had finished high school in Palermo and were off studying elsewhere. We moved out to my husband's family farm, which is halfway between Palermo and Trapani, which is the westernmost point of Sicily.

 

What drew you to Sicily, and why did you stay?

Well, what drew me was the possibility of doing volunteer work with a development organization. This was 1962. It was the period of the big period of the Peace Corps. I didn't want to join the Peace Corps. I wasn't sure that I wanted to work as a representative of the American way of life. I thought everybody was entitled to their own way of life. I thought I wasn't going to stay very long, but I met my husband, I married him, and we thought we were going to be traveling around the world.

 

He was an agronomist (an agrarian economist), and he had applied to the FAO. We imagined a sort of itinerant life in the developing world with our basis here in Sicily. But then, two years after we were married, his oldest brother, who was running what was left of the family farm and taking care of the aging parents, died very suddenly. And we were left holding the bag, so to speak, and it became a passion. We were reluctant in the beginning but very glad in the end. The whole thing is, my whole life has been sort of serendipous. It's not planned.

 

How has your perspective on Sicilian culture evolved since you first arrived?

I was a medieval history major in college. And so I knew that sort of Sicily. I knew very little about modern Sicily. I came with curiosity, and I had the good luck to work together for a couple of years with an American anthropologist who was also volunteering at the center. She gave me tools to read what I was seeing. I don't think I had a very clear idea in the beginning, but I was open to finding out. 

I didn't have a stereotype. Sicily was off the charts those days. People, it was considered a black hole of mafia and poverty and dried out wheat fields. I mean, a lot of people didn't have any idea of the enormous cultural heritage that is. And still, when my first book, On Persephone's Island, was published in 1986, the first editor I talked to about it in New York said to me, "Well, of course, you realize nobody wants to read the book about Sicily, but I like this idea… Why don't you develop that?" I said, well, I'm not interested in developing that. I'm interested in writing about Sicily. And I went elsewhere. I was lucky, but I managed to find people who were curious.

 

What was your goal with On Persephone's Island?

Well, I had always loved writing, but I had this feeling that I couldn't write a book about Sicily unless it were a definitive work, and it was obviously beyond me. I don't think there's anybody who could do the definitive work on Sicily because it's such an ancient and multifaceted place and culture. But I started writing the book because I had been asked to accompany a group of alumni from my American college around Sicily. Though I wasn't prepared to be an art history guide, I started telling people about what they were seeing in the fields, what was growing, how it was used, and how it was harvested. A lot of information that I had gained simply by living on a farm and because of what my husband did, but information that's not included in guidebooks. And I discovered that people were really interested. 

 

What unique aspects of Sicilian cooking have you shared over the years with your books?

Well, for one thing, its antiquity. I mean, it is fusion cooking over the millennia, basically because it was conquered many, many times. What are considered the indigenous people of Sicily were not. People were living here at the end of the Ice Age. 

There were three different peoples that came in: The Greeks came, and then the Romans came, and the Phoenicians were already here. Then, the Arabs came in and took over Sicily in the ninth century, and they were kicked out by the French Norman, a small colonizing force of roving knights. The Normans built a magnificent civilization that synthesized the great works of Norman architecture, the cathedrals, called the Arab-Norman Cathedrals, which have a combination of recycled Greek or Roman sculptures and mosaics from the Byzantine with Arab motifs. And they were glorious mixtures of all these traditions. And then we had the French, and then we had the Spanish, and then we had the Northern Italians, and so forth and so on. It goes on and on and on. Each of these people brought in not only new ideas and new art forms but also new plants and new vegetables and new fruits and new methods of cooking them. 

 

How was Sicilian cuisine influenced by its diverse historical rulers and cultures?

I do know that in a cave, in a cavern on the western shore of Sicily, they've found lentils, chickpeas, and farro, which were developed in Anatolia and the Mesopotamian Highlands around 10,000 B.C. So people came and brought with them the foodstuffs. The known prehistoric peoples that came to Sicily were probably eating much the same basic diet as the Greeks. 

One of the things that has determined Sicily's importance in history and how things have played out is the fact that it is mostly volcanic, extremely fertile soil. It's a big island. It's the biggest island in the Mediterranean, has a very central position, and very, very fertile soil yields much greater than anything the Greeks had ever seen in Greece, for example. Whereas classical Greece was praising the "Golden Mean" moderation of all things in terms of food. That was an invention of necessity. They couldn't indulge enormously because they didn't grow enough food. 

One of the reasons for Greek colonization across the Mediterranean was the search for new sources of food. When they got to Sicily, they went a bit wild and started developing a very elaborate cuisine. The first cookbook in the Mediterranean world was written in Syracuse, and the first school for professional chefs was in Syracuse. There are certain traits that are still very common that come from the Greeks, such as the use of dried currents together with pine nuts, which is often attributed to the Arabs but was in the Roman cookbooks, which were, in turn, inspired by the Sicilian chefs.

Sicily is famous for its pastry traditions, and there are two very different traditions. One is the simpler cakes and biscuits, and very often with a fig filling using sesame seeds, but the Greeks sweetened with either honey or had vincotto, a boiled-down grape must.  

When the Arabs came, they brought cane sugar, which arrived in Europe first through Sicily and then through Muslim Spain. It gave a much wider range of possibilities because it crystallized and remained crystallized, which honey or vincotto didn't. 

They brought in almond paste, and they brought in crystallized fruit, and together, with the sugar, a whole tradition that became in the 12th and 13th centuries an important economic export of Sicily, famous for the sweet stuff that they sent north.

Then, they brought in new vegetables. They brought in the artichoke as we know it today, probably the lemons and certainly the bitter orange. The eggplant was brought by the Arabs, but whether they came here first or whether it came back here later from Spain with the Spanish Muslims is a question.

The Arabs were the first people to bring in and produce dried pasta as we know it today. The Romans had things they did with wheat and water that were similar, but the idea of a dried thing that you then boil came here thanks to the Arabs. 

 

Tell me about your farm, Bosco Falconeria.

It's on the edge of the boundary between the territory of Partinico and the territory of Alcamo. But it's an area in which most of the land belongs to people from Alcamo. 

This piece of it was bought by my husband's grandfather in 1930. So it is close to a hundred years we've been here. My husband and I rebuilt the farmhouse, which was not in good shape but was quite badly damaged in the 1968 earthquake. And we used the government subsidies for earthquake damage to rebuild the frame of the house.

My husband's grandfather was a wine merchant maker. The wine that was made here on the farm was wine that came not only from his own grapes, but in that era, this was an area of small farms; there were no cooperative wine cellars. So, the small peasant with a few acres of vineyards was at the mercy of a middleman who would charge him outrageously high interest on the money. They advanced him so that he could get through the next year's cultivation. 

 

My husband's grandfather was a wonderful man, and he loaned money to anybody who asked him without ever charging any interest. So he had a fairly good-sized clientele; people who came brought him their grapes. The wine was made here and stored here. And then most of it was taken down in barrels, mounted on Sicilian carts, to the port, where there were the warehouses of the big vermouth companies. Because in those days, most Sicilian wine was not table wine. It was a very strong wine that was used either to make vermouth or was sold in Europe to be taken to Northern Europe to bring up the alcoholic content of the much weaker northern wines.

The alcoholic content of wine depends on how much sun the grapes get. It's the sun that brings out the sugar content, and in northern climates, wines tend to be much lower in sugar content and, therefore, less stable. The stronger the wine, the better it keeps and the better it ages.

So that's what Sicilian wines were: mostly really strong stuff still. The big transformation of the Sicilian wine industry started in the seventies, and now almost all the wine I think that's produced here is table wine. Some of it's still pretty undrinkable, but most of it is really excellent. The wine picture has changed totally since I've been here.

 

Aside from wine grapes, what else do you grow?

We have olives, we have table grapes, and we have avocados, which are a novelty here. We have a small mixed citrus orchard. We sell some grapefruit and some oranges, but mostly, they are for family consumption in one way or another. And we don't do much in the way of vegetables anymore. We used to, but they're so labor-intensive.

 

We went organic before there was organic certification in Italy in the second half of the 80s. And in the beginning, it was worth it. Even though we had to pay a lot in labor costs, it was worth our while to produce organic vegetables because there weren't that many producers of organic vegetables. Nowadays, there's a lot of organic produce in Sicily, more than any other region in Italy.

 

You've written six books. What do you hope readers take away?

Well, in the beginning, I really wasn't thinking about that. I was just hoping that there were some people out there who might be interested in things that I found so interesting about Sicily. I was first told nobody wanted to read about Sicily. And then, when I told my editor I wanted to do a history of Sicilian cuisine, she said, "Oh, is there one?" And Pomp and Sustenance was the first book in English on Sicilian cooking. Americans, for a long time, didn't even realize that there was anything more essential than the difference between the white cuisine of Milan and the red cuisine of Naples.  

 

In the beginning, it was simply to talk about the things that were interesting here and hope I could pay back Sicily for all it's given to me. I felt like a self-appointed ambassador.

I've had so many beautiful letters from people who say, "You gave me back childhood recipes my grandmother used to cook." That has been totally unexpected but very, very rewarding.

 

 

 

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My Sicilian grandmother may have been the cook of the household, but it was my grandfather who grew much of the produce she used in her dishes.

 

I can still remember sitting in the kitchen as Luciano Pavarotti's tenor voice filtered through the fragrant air. Nonna was stirring a pot of something wonderful on the stove when Nonno burst through the door with a tray of sun-dried tomatoes. He'd dried them himself by wrapping the tray in plastic and setting it out in the sun to do its magic. Who needed store-bought when doing it yourself was so easy and delicious? 

 

Food blogger Andrea Lagana of Hip Hip Gourmet agrees, but she "sun dries" her tomatoes in the oven before popping them into a dehydrator. 

 

"Doing it outside is nice and all, but there are lots of variables to consider (such as bugs, temperature, rain, etc.), so using a dehydrator is the no-fail preferred method in our family," she says.

 

Andrea took time out to share why she dries her own tomatoes, which tomatoes are best for drying, how to boost dried tomato flavor, and which recipes are best for sun-dried tomatoes. 

 

 

What is your background, and where is your Italian family from?

I'm a proud second-generation Italian. Both of my parents were born in Italy, both in Calabria, but in different towns. My dad is from Scilla, and my mom is from Montalto Uffugo.

Did your family sun-dry tomatoes?

My parents don't actually remember their families sun-drying tomatoes in Italy because they were so small when they left. However, my mom does have a few memories of her aunts and uncles sun-drying figs from their fresh backyard fig trees, so I'm sure it's not far-fetched to say that they did tomatoes, too.

 

When did you start sun-drying tomatoes, and why?

I started sun-drying tomatoes as soon as I started living on my own (about a decade or so ago!). It was always a staple in our house growing up and something I would help my parents make every year. I just knew I had to carry on the tradition not only because we've been making them for so long but also because they're so dang delicious, and I seriously can't live without them! So much so that I've actually vowed to make them every year for the rest of my life.

 

What is your preferred tomato-drying method?

I personally like to start my fresh halved (usually Roma or San Marzano) tomatoes in the oven on the lowest rack for a couple of hours. Then, I transfer them to a dehydrator to finish drying out. This process can be long and requires patience and persistence, as you have to keep going in every so often to check on them and take the ready ones out (they can be ready at different times). I like this method because it's efficient, reliable, and easy.

However, if I lived in Italy under the hot Italian sun, perhaps I would stick to the old-fashioned way of actually using the sun to dry them out completely. My mom used to start them outside in the sun in our backyard (instead of the oven), and then she'd move them to the dehydrator to finish.

How does the process differ from traditional sun-drying?

Traditional sun-drying includes salting the halved tomatoes to draw out excess moisture (which we don't do) and placing them in direct sunlight for several days with a protective covering like a screen or a cheesecloth to keep the insects away. The tomatoes will get rotated or flipped a few times during this process to ensure even drying. The process is generally longer than my family's method of using a dehydrator, as the sun must be shining in order for the tomatoes to dry out completely. 

 

What types of tomatoes are best suited for sun-drying?

We love using fresh and ripe Roma or San Marzano tomatoes for sun-drying. These beauties are the perfect size (go for the smaller ones) and have fewer seeds and more "meat" than other varieties. They also have a firm texture and lower water content, making them ideal for sun-drying. We also make fresh tomato sauce at the same time, and, as any Italian will tell you, Roma and/or San Marzano are basically the only options!

 

Can you list some common mistakes to avoid when making sun-dried tomatoes?

• Not using the right tomatoes: Remember, San Marzano or Roma. My Italian parents wouldn't approve of any other variety! 
• Overcrowding the dehydrator. The air needs room to circulate, and overcrowding the trays or overlapping the tomatoes will result in uneven and improperly dried tomatoes. For best results, place the tomatoes in a single and even layer.
• Taking the sun-dried tomatoes out too soon. You want to make sure they are dry but still bendy when you press them between your fingers. They shouldn't be moist, squishy, or hard at all. 
• Not tossing the ready ones in a splash of oil while waiting for the rest to finish. As I said, this process can take several days (or even weeks, depending on how many tomatoes you're drying). Tossing the ready ones in a bit of oil and keeping them in a container with a tight-fitting lid keeps them fresh and prevents mold before jarring.
• Not ensuring that all of the sun-dried tomatoes are completely submerged in oil at all times (after jarring). Make sure to always press them down beneath the oil with a fork after each use and/or topping up the oil as often as is needed.
• Not having patience. It's a virtue and so required in this process. But trust me, it's totally worth it and will pay off tenfold!
  
  

How can you enhance the flavor of tomatoes during the drying process?

You can definitely add salt to the halved tomatoes before drying. I'm sure you could also add some spices (e.g., garlic powder or Italian seasoning) if you wish. I haven't ever tried doing this before drying, but I'm sure it would be a good experiment.

Personally, my family likes to keep the tomatoes plain Jane during the drying process. We enhance the flavor after the tomatoes are completely dried out by adding loads of fresh chopped garlic, oregano, salt, and oil as we jar them.

 

What are the benefits of drying tomatoes at home versus buying them from a store?

Like anything homemade, they're just way better for so many reasons! First and foremost, they are much cheaper in the long run than store-bought varieties. I find that you can't find a good-tasting jar of sun-dried tomatoes for less than $15 these days (and I'm talkin' the smallest of small jars you could find). I also find that the oil used in most jarred varieties isn't an oil I consume on a regular basis, so I prefer making my own so I can control the exact ingredients and measurements that go into each jar.

And, of course, the real benefit of making sun-dried tomatoes at home is that I seriously cannot find a sun-dried tomato that is as delicious as the ones my family has been making for all of these years. Call me biased, but it's a fact!

What are some creative ways to incorporate sun-dried tomatoes into your cooking?

I love using sun-dried tomatoes in my cooking, so I feel like I can never have enough of them! Eating them straight out of the jar is, of course, also delicious. But here are some ways I like to use them:

• In pasta—why, of course! I wouldn't be Italian if I didn't suggest throwing some into the next pasta dish you make. My mom adds them to her pasta aglio e olio (a traditional simple olive oil and garlic pasta), which takes it to a whole other level.
• If you're feeling fancy (but not really, because all it takes is 10 minutes to make!), try my pesto rosso (aka my sun-dried tomato pesto), where the homemade sun-dried tomatoes are the true star! You can use this pesto on pasta, as a base for a pizza, or as a marinade for things like chicken or pork. It's even great on eggs.
• I love chopping sun-dried tomatoes and adding them to anything, from pizza (they're so good on pizza!) to meatballs (like my homemade sun-dried tomato turkey meatballs with spinach and goat cheese). 

One of my favorite things to do with sun-dried tomatoes is make Mediterranean-inspired dishes. They pair well with olives, capers, artichoke hearts, and spinach.

Here are two of my go-to recipes that use sun-dried tomatoes:

• Mediterranean Baked Halibut (you can use any white fish)
• Lightened Up Tuscan Chicken

 

 

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It's the quintessential Italian sport, now played worldwide, attracting people of all ages and rivaling soccer in its popularity. Bocce, a form of competitive lawn bowling, has emerged from your grandfather's bocce court as a serious contender for the Olympic Games, falling just short of the requisite 16 countries. And it's become more common to see women participating and competing at elite levels. Just ask Mill Valley, California, resident Teresa Rea, who, along with her teammate Jolene Kramer, won the 2019 U.S. National Bocce Championship Women's Doubles Gold Medal.

Teresa, who is represented by the Marin Bocce Federation, sat down with me to discuss bocce basics.

 

How did you get started with bocce ball?

In 1999, someone suggested that I join their league team. I'd never played, and I played 20 years of volleyball. So, they knew I had hand-eye coordination, which is probably the one requirement for this sport. And so I've been playing in leagues at Marin Bocce Federation ever since. But in 2004, I discovered there were regional leagues and regional tournaments. Sometimes, it's four-player: four men, four women, two men, two women… There are three-player tournaments, there are two-player tournaments, and there are singles tournaments. They're all around what's called the Western Sector of the United States Bocce Federation. That is the nationwide organization that represents us with Canada, with Europe, with South America.

 

In 2004, I began playing in those tournaments and upped my game. About two or three years later, I began playing Punto Raffa Volo, the principal Italian game.

 

What exactly is Punto Raffa Volo?

Punto means pointing. You're bending over and lagging the ball. Raffa is a running shot where you approach a fixed line, must then throw your ball, and clear a line about 12 feet out. And then, having called your target shot, you're aiming for a specific ball down the court. Volo is similar, but you run to a different line, and you have to hit your designated target ball on the fly.  

 

And there's a high degree of precision in it that does not exist in the open play that many Americans play. You can't bump another ball more than 40 centimeters in our game. If you do, there are a lot of rules. Balls are all marked, and things can be put back and removed from the court if you don't hit your target. So, I've been playing that ever since.

 

I had the opportunity to represent the United States and play in the United States Bocce Federation Nationals, which occur the last week of every June, sometimes in California, typically Chicago, St. Louis, or Boston. That attracts players from around the country to play several different formats. And then, in 2019, probably the best moment was when my teammate Jolene Kramer and I won the gold medal in the women's doubles.

 

What are the basic rules of bocce?

The object of the game after you've thrown the small ball, or pallino, out onto the court past the center line is to get at least one or more of your balls closer to the pallino than the opponent. And you take turns trying to do so. You may either be trying to get closer or bump them out and leave yourself there to be closer. And if you get one of your balls, only one of your balls closer than any of theirs, you get one point, two, three… If all four of your balls are closer, you get what's called a casino.

 

That's a simple open game. The object of Punta Raffa Volo is still the same. You want to have more of your balls closer to the pallino than the other team. Only the team with the close balls gets points in a given frame.

What's another popular style of bocce?

There is another game called Volo that's part of this collection, and you play with metal balls, and there's lagging. It's about 50% lagging and 50% shooting. And that's mostly men, I would say. Yeah, it's 90% men because it's all about throwing the ball the entire distance of the court.

 

What's the history of bocce?

Well, I mean, we all suspect that it started with a couple of cavemen saying, "I can throw this rock closer to that rock than you can." It's evolved in each country because bocce is the Italian version of boules lawn bowling. Boules and pétanque are French, and lawn bowling is English.

 

It evolved predominantly in the countryside on crushed oyster shells or dirt courts, which leads to a somewhat lumpy terrain that's played on. But it has evolved to the point where most of the Italian clubs are indoors, and it's a synthetic rubber surface that is mostly flat. I've only met one pair of courts that was literally perfect. Everything else has its little idiosyncrasies because the earth under it moved, or the building shifted, or whatever.

 

What is it like to be a woman playing this stereotypically male game?

Well, amongst the players, the presumption is that the women will only do the lagging [the typical rolling style]. They'll not do the shooting [aiming to displace another ball on the court]. That has eased over the decades that I've been playing so that there's every reason to believe a woman's as likely to be a shooter as a man.

 

Young boys tend to gravitate to the sport because of the chance to shoot. So very often, you'll see if it's a mixed doubles foursome, the woman will be doing the first two balls and lagging for position, and the man will be doing the latter half. When they created the categories for women to play doubles together, many more women learned how to shoot. And now, probably 60% of the men shoot, but at least 40% of the women do.

 

Have you been to Italy?

Oh, yes. Twice. My best friend from high school married a Fiorentino, and the three of us and their two kids went roaming through Tuscany. Multiple times, we saw men out playing bocce on their dirt courts. Once, in Cinque Terra, I also saw a bocce court right near the beach.

 

Do you have a favorite Italian dish?

Probably eggplant parmigiana.

 

What do you do when you're not playing bocce?

I'm retired now, but I was a land-use planner for 30 years.

 

So, what's next for you?

There are still tournaments, and I'll probably participate in a fundraiser in October. The beauty of fundraisers is that you can have players of all levels who care to join and play, and you're making money for a nonprofit that needs support.

 

>>Looking to join a bocce club? Here are some tips.<<

 

 

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If you're a fan of donut holes, you'll love sfingi, the quintessential donut of Sicily. While commonly served on Saint Joseph’s Day and at Christmastime, these sweet and sometimes savory treats are a hit any time of the year. I caught up with Sicilian Food Tours owner Carmel Ruggeri to chat about her version of sfingi, which reminds me of my own Nonna's recipe. 

 

Tell me about your background. 

I was born in Australia. My parents migrated to Sydney in the 60s. They are both from Scoglitti, which is located on the south coast of Sicily. I have owned many Italian restaurants in Sydney and have always had a serious passion for food. I started tours about 13 years ago because my customers were continuously saying, "when are you going to take me to Sicily, Carmel?" I base myself in Scoglitti when I am in Sicily. It is a quaint little fishing village located on the south coast. White sandy beaches and it has numerous amazing seafood restaurants which people from all over the island come to visit.

 

What does your heritage mean to you?

I am a very proud Sicilian. Sicily has a rich history of mixed cultures, and I think this has helped shape my curiosity about discovering different cultures and meeting various people from all over the world. Sicilians are very proud of their rich soil and their produce, as am I, and I want the world to know who we are and taste all our produce and products. We have strong family values and a strong sense of community, which is evident as you visit the villages of Sicily and attend feasts and events throughout the island. Most of our events are around food. Growing up, when we came together with our cousins and extended family, it was always about food, and if there were only 10 of us for Sunday lunch, there would always be enough leftovers for days. My mother showed love by feeding us, and until today, even though she is very unwell and barely able to walk, her first question to me in the morning after breakfast is, "What can we prepare for dinner tonight?" I'm proud to say she passed on the cooking gene to me.

 

What are sfingi, and how are they typically served?

Sfingi is a donut. Sicilian recipes differ from village to village. We serve it with sultanas and roll them in sugar and cinnamon. When I was a child, my mother used to make them with fennel seeds. I definitely prefer them with sultanas.

 

What is the difference between zeppole and sfingi?

Sfingi are donut-style fritters made into random shapes. Zeppole are made from pastry and have fillings, such as the Zeppole di San Giuseppe, which is a pastry made for the patron saint day of Saint Joseph. They look like an open profiterole with cream in the middle. However many of my Calabrese friends call savoury sfingi zeppole. They add anchovies inside the dough mixture and fry them and serve them. Many restaurants serve these on bar menus around the world. They help drink sales because they are nice and salty and make their customers thirsty. 

 

Is this a family recipe? What went into developing it?

I have watched my mother and aunts make sfingi since I was a little girl. Like most recipes handed down from my mother, it was, "Add a pinch of this and a pinch of that." Her recipes were never precise, and I had to work it out on my own. I know now that with sfingi dough, you need to mix it well and give them enough time to rise to get those large, great, airy bubbles in them. 

 

 

I noticed your sfingi recipe happens to be vegan. 

Most of the recipes I know of sfingi are vegan. My cousin, who is from the Messina region, adds mashed potato to hers, and another friend told me that in Sardinia, they add mashed cauliflower. 

 

What do you hope at-home cooks and bakers will take away from your recipes?

I hope they get to try a little bit of Sicilian flavors in their homes and enjoy how such little ingredients can go a long way. 

 

Tell me about Sicilian Food Tours. Where do you go, and what can participants expect?

Sicilian Food Tours is based in the seaside fishing village of Scoglitti, and we travel to the surrounding areas such as baroque Modica, Ragusa Ibla, majestic Noto, Ortigia on the East Coast, and many other south Sicily locations. I like to think that guests get a full cultural experience on my tours. They come into our family home and see Nonna cook. Guests get to meet many of my relatives at their bakeries and pastry stores and come behind the scenes and see how everything is created. They come to my cousin's tomato or eggplant farms and see produce from start to finish. We pride ourselves on being a tour with a difference, offering meals with an array of differences from a Michelin-style restaurant to eating a Sicilian salsiccia at a BBQ to a winetasting with lunch at a beautiful winery with a top sommelier on hand telling us about all the grape varieties and winemaking. Our tours are very personalized tours, and we only run three- or four-week-long tours a year.

 

>>Get Carmel's sfingi recipe here!<<

 

 

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I would be remiss if I did not include my sister, Catherine Maita, among my picks for interviewees for this blog. Catherine studied abroad in Italy for a semester during her senior year, where she not only learned Italian and studied art history but also met her future husband on the isle of Capri.

 

An Orange County, California, crystals designer, Catherine crafts unique tablescapes and jewelry pieces, which she sells under the name of Cristalli di Cat at farmers markets and on her Etsy store. We sat down to chat about our childhood, the people who inspired her, her process, and her business's future.

 

Can you describe your connection to Sicily?

Our maternal grandparents (Nonni) were Sicilian, and their families were from Porticello and Palermo. Mom's influence aligned our family with Sicilian culture and traditions throughout our youth. Sunday family meals prepared by Nonna, watching Italian soccer, and gardening with Nonno were some of my fondest childhood memories. During our cherished family time during these weekly visits, our Nonni shared much about our heritage. Being so connected to family and wanting to meet our relatives in Italy and visit our grandparents' homeland led me to sign up for a college semester abroad in Rome.

 

While abroad, I first lived with our Sicilian relatives in Palermo for three weeks before my time at the American University of Rome. During my stay in Sicily, I became wholly immersed in our family's heritage, meeting our relatives and hearing their stories. They also further introduced me to the Sicilian cuisine and culture. While there, I learned so much about our Nonni's upbringing. I visited Mondello Beach, where my Nonno would swim in the Mediterranean. I stood in the street where my grandparents first met as youth and met our cousin, who still runs our family's now third-generation tabaccheria. 

 

During my semester in Rome, I returned to Sicily that fall for a weekend in Porticello to attend the Festa Madonna del Lume with our family. This grand celebration started with a town-wide religious procession, starting at the church where our Nonni were married. It was one of my favorite experiences of my time in Sicily.

 

What was the inspiration for Cristalli di Cat?

The name of my business is Italian for Crystals by Catherine. While studying in Rome, I took an art history course.

 

Before my time in Rome, our brother, Erik, had always inspired me with his creations: paintings, sculptures, and graphic designs. This influence was my baseline for being attracted to creativity, leading me to sign up for this class when enrolling for my semester coursework.

 

Daily lessons in this art history course were instructed outside a classroom. Classes took place among the art in churches around Rome, as famous artists painted frescoes that remain. During this class, we also frequently visited architectural structures in Rome. The designs and custom works throughout the city were genuinely fascinating, and I have held this inspiration for years.

 

When I lived in Rome, I also visited open markets every Saturday to practice conversational Italian through interactions with vendors. During these visits, I became attracted to stone- and crystal-designed jewelry and handmade creations by these local artists. I began collecting crystal and stone jewelry pieces for myself and as gifts for friends and family.

 

Several years after this college study-abroad experience, I turned to floral design as a creative outlet for stress relief management. I was coping with my emotions around our father's terminal illness, and designing became a soothing outlet for stress relief. I could reconnect with my passion for art. This therapy then translated to a business venture as I had friends and family encourage me to pursue starting my own small business to share my work with others.

 

I spent a full year visiting southern California artist markets on the weekend to get advice from small business owners and to gather inspiration for new designs. During that year, I also attended my first Gem Faire event. Exploring crystals at the fair, I felt an immediate connection to these elements. I knew then that I wanted to work with crystals and incorporate them into my design work.
 

 

Describe your works.

My crystal design arrangements feature thoughtfully curated crystals, stones, and dried florals. I envisioned combining these elements to create a soft (florals) and sharp (crystals) visual effect, drawing in calming vibes from these competing but connected properties.

 

My jewelry designs feature hand-selected crystals as pendants on gold chains. In my personal style, I layer accessories and encourage my clients to explore mixing properties of different crystals in their own stylish looks. I also design rings with vibrant and sometimes oversized stones, making many statement pieces. For my jewelry line, I don't have any two identical pieces, making each piece unique and one of a kind.

 

How do you source your materials?

I always want to ensure the quality of my materials for my clients. I source materials for my designs from a network of wholesale vendors who source directly from mines. I set up private viewings to hand-select elements. My other go-to space for curating materials is Gem Faires throughout Southern California and Arizona. I can find some of the most unique items at these fairs and support other small business owners. For my floral designs, I source from business owners of wholesale flower shops and from vendors at farmers markets. 

 

What is your process behind designing a new piece?

Inspiration for my designs is a constant trail of ideas coming to me during nature hikes, visits to museums and art festivals, and time spent at calming places like Laguna Beach.

 

Another hobby I have had for years is photography. I am constantly taking photos of inspiring places and views around Southern California. When I need a dose of inspiration, I retreat to Laguna for a long walk and take photos of exciting views of the water and surroundings on the walking trails. My photo captures and viewing crystals at Gem Faires generally lead me to ideas for new designs and collections for my business.

 

I am very much in the moment when inspiration hits. I will literally be at a Gem Faire setting crystals together on a table, zoning out, and designing among the crowds. I also keep a design ideas notebook to capture my ideas and sketch out design looks. Once I have a vision for a new line, I work with my suppliers to source materials. Then, I bring myself to a calm space with music and materials and design the entire collection in one sitting. When the creativity is there, I don't stop designing until I feel the collection is complete. 

 

What are your cultural or historical influences?

My floral designs are inspired by our Sicilian great-aunt Josephine. Following her retirement from teaching, Auntie Jo owned a floral design business. She had Parkinson's disease, and floral design was a calming escape from her ailments. She created beautiful works by hand, which she donated to local hospital gift shops in efforts to raise funding for Parkinson's research.

 

Every time we were together, Auntie Jo was designing or handcrafting gifts for people. She encouraged us all to design with her… It was a wonderful inspiration at a young age! We witnessed her work filling people with immense joy and bringing colorful art into their homes.

 

In my early adulthood, living in Rome and traveling throughout Europe during weekends and school breaks for four months at university there served as constant inspiration. I believe my bold, structured, and statement looks are drawn from my experiences and cultural immersion in the European lifestyle. The fast-paced movement, the fashion, and the fascinating history of Rome greatly influenced me. Cobblestone streets, quiet hilltop views of the city, busy streets, and historic structures all contribute to my design aesthetic. In Sicily, the ocean colors, vibrant tones of fruit at the markets, and the gorgeous landscapes inspired me so much. I captured so many design ideas then that I am now further exploring and infusing them into my work. 

 

You do custom work. Can you describe that process?

I create many personally envisioned designs but receive several custom requests for my work. Generally, in my custom orders, someone is looking for an arrangement to fill a home or office space or get a gift for a friend or family member. I also get requests for event design work. I have planned and hosted hundreds of events, from large-scale corporate events to intimate client engagements to birthday parties for my daughter. 

 

For every custom order request, I'll first meet with a client to discuss their vision and ask them to send images of their space for the design. I ask for preferences for specific colors or healing properties they want to bring into their space. I always want to ensure that I have captured someone's vision, so I will create several different looks to provide options to the client. If I'm designing for a "zen den" or calming-type space, I'll generally have very soothing colors or soft florals like pampas. For event decor, it can be anything from helping to determine a theme to table settings and even guest party favors. I photograph these design looks and provide a lookbook that I pitch to clients. Seeing someone's vision brought to life in my work is always so fulfilling. 

 

What are your most popular pieces?

Probably the most requested design is the first arrangement type I created when I launched my business. I call the design a "crystal garden." In this design, crystals and florals are combined and collected into a singular space on a wooden carved plate. These arrangements can easily be set on a side table in a room or atop an office desk. I have a client who keeps one in her yoga studio, and we have added several crystals over time to that space, which is now an entire "crystal wing" in her studio.

 

My other most requested pieces are large crystals in a design scape for a home entry or table centerpiece look. These generally include very unique crystals that I will source at Gem Faires.

 

Another very popular piece is my jewelry, which I just launched this year. I wear my creations for calming vibes and to amplify styled looks, and I generally will get customers by people approaching me to ask where I got my necklaces or rings. I am always thrilled to design jewelry for new and existing customers, as I can attest to the good energy and happiness that comes with these creations!

 

What are your plans, and can you give us a hint about upcoming collections?

Since I launched my business in 2022, I have been involved in markets and in-store collectives. I also have an e-commerce space on Etsy and accept custom orders through my website and Instagram. I want to continue to grow my brand's presence in those spaces.

 

I am also in conversations with other artists about collaborations. I plan to expand my client base in the custom design space, as I have found great joy in bringing scapes into people's homes and other spaces.  And I want to build my jewelry and accessories line.

 

Many clients return to me at markets or through message requests to add to their Cristalli di Cat jewelry collection. The response to my necklace creations led me to launch ring designs to complement necklaces as accessory sets. I will hopefully soon also have crystal earring designs to offer.

 

I have ideas for other special products for my shop in the future. I'd like to source and sell other home decor or lifestyle items that would elevate or enhance my pieces.

 

My favorite future plan is to continue to teach my daughter design and help her develop what I see as innate creative skills. She has launched her own side table kids' toys and games sales booth at markets where I am a vendor participant. I want to continue to inspire her to pursue her curiosities as a young entrepreneur and to encourage her to maybe one day start her own business or two. 

 

 

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Just about every weekend of my childhood, my family would drive from our home in Racine, Wisconsin, to Milwaukee, where we'd visit with relatives and enjoy classic Sicilian suppers. My Nonna had a pantry full of ingredients from Italian grocer Glorioso's.

 

One of these staples was chickpea flour, farina di ceci, which is made by crushing dried garbanzo beans.

 

Using this versatile, gluten-free, and protein-packed flour, she'd often make panelle, chickpea flour cutlets that she'd serve between freshly baked Sicilian bread. 

 

I was delighted to discover a panelle recipe just like my Nonna's on Ada Parisi's Siciliani Creativi in Cucina. We recently discussed all things chickpea flour, a superfood you can now find at most supermarkets. Ada, who currently calls Rome home, was born in Messina, Sicily, and aims to make Sicilian cuisine better known through her recipes.

How is chickpea flour made?

Chickpea flour is simply obtained by crushing dehulled chickpeas: the chickpeas are ground until they become an impalpable powder that is slightly yellow-colored. It is also possible to prepare it at home using common dried chickpeas. Just wash them, toast them in the oven at 150 degrees for about 20 minutes, and then blend everything in a food processor until you obtain flour.

 

What are some uses for chickpea flour?

Chickpeas are a food widely used in traditional recipes from various Italian regions. For this reason, but also for cultural reasons (they're an ingredient that ancient farmers always had in their pantries, cheap and nutritious), chickpeas and chickpea flour are so used in Italy.

 

How does its use vary by region?

Among the main Italian recipes with chickpea flour is farinata, a type of low focaccia made with chickpea flour, extra virgin olive oil, and aromatic herbs such as rosemary. Widespread in various regions (Liguria, Tuscany, and Sardinia), it is also called fainá or cecina. In Sicily, chickpea flour is used to make panelle, fritters with chickpea flour, pepper, and parsley, to be eaten inside a sandwich (the famous pane e panelle). It is also possible to prepare vegan omelets with chickpea flour and vegetables. But also highly protein legume gnocchi by adding flour, eggs, and grated cheese. With chickpea flour, you can also make desserts: in Sicily, cassatelle di agira is a famous, sweet raviolo that contains chocolate and chickpea flour inside.

 

Why is chickpea flour so widely used in Italy?

It is a legacy of Italian peasant culture. Chickpeas are a very traditional and widespread crop in different regions, especially in central and southern Italy. Furthermore, in addition to being an ingredient in various typical recipes, today, they meet the needs of those who are intolerant to gluten or celiac disease.

 

What are the health benefits of chickpea flour?

Chickpea flour, like chickpeas, is rich in vegetable proteins with medium biological value. It contains little fat and a lot of fiber, as well as a good amount of vitamins B1, A, and E, in addition to mineral salts such as phosphorus and potassium. It is gluten-free and has a low glycemic index; therefore, it is suitable for celiac diets and recommended in the diet for diabetics.

 

What do you hope at-home cooks will take away from your recipes?

I hope that those who read my recipes will share and make their own idea of a seasonal diet linked to the territory and small productions. The valorization of Italian agricultural and agri-food products in every kitchen is the key to eating healthily (as the Mediterranean Diet says) and helping the agricultural supply chain increase income with what it produces.

 

 

>>Get Ada's panelle recipe here<<

 

 

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The next time you sip a cup of espresso, consider how it got there. I'm not talking about the production or import of beans. The very tradition of drinking coffee in Italy can be traced to a single source: Queen Maria Carolina of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies. A daughter of Austria's Habsburg Dynasty, Maria Carolina, who liked to be called Charlotte, was just as much a trendsetter as her ill-fated sister Marie Antoinette. She championed female artists, supported sciences, and exercised agency as a woman ahead of her time.

Whenever I visit my family in Porticello, I can't help but see the Norman fortress of Castello di Solanto, one of Maria Carolina's holiday homes. It's right across from the port in Bagheria. A self-possessed and highly educated queen, Maria Carolina touched many other places and policies. 

I first learned about Maria Carolina when I read Antoinette's Sister by historical novelist Diana Giovinazzo, who happens to be part Sicilian. I caught up with Diana to discuss what she learned writing her brilliant book and her thoughts on Maria Carolina's life and legacy. 

 

 

What is your background, and what drew you to Queen Maria Carolina?

I'm half Italian. My dad's part Calabrian and part Sicilian. So the Calabrian half that came was, as far as we know, just my great-grandfather and his wife. Nobody else came with them, which was just kind of odd. So we never really understood why that was. And as far as we know, there's family back there that we don't know what happened to them, and we could trace them back to World War II. That's about it. And then my Sicilian side of the family, his mother's side, came here from Sicily (just outside of Palermo, a little town called San Giuseppe Jato). So they're all here.

 

I've always been curious about my family genealogy, how we came here, and where my family fits in the history narrative. There are a lot of people who have families who are still back in Italy. We don't, and it's murky, but I was curious about it, and I started getting into the research of genealogy. The question of how we came to the United States turned into, "Well, why? What was going on during the timeframe of my family coming here?" My family came in the mid and early 1900s. And so when I turned to the question of why, that's when I started learning about historical fiction.

 

The history itself, the historical fiction, is going to come in a little bit later, but I first got into the history of Garibaldi, what Garibaldi did in the country, which led to Anita Garibaldi, which led to my first book, The Woman in Red. 

While looking into that book's history and doing research, I kept coming across sections that talked about the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies. I had put some of it in there, but I didn't really get into it in the book itself. And when we went to print, my editor was like, well, I want to know more. Let's put some more of that in there. I did what any writer would do, and I decided I was going to become an expert. And I just studied as much of it as I could. 

At the very beginning, I came across the stories of King Ferdinand. I was like, "Oh my God, who is the poor woman who was married to him and got stuck with this man?" And that's when I came across Carolina.

So, I pitched the story to my agent, and it went from there. I was so just taken by the history and taken by her and her family, and everything that she did, as well as historical fiction, came into play because I've always wanted to be a writer. My path to writing has been very windy, and I've done a little bit of this and a little bit of that. I was a paralegal for a while, and then I started writing The Woman in Red. Then, I said, "Well, this is going to be my new thing." And that's where it came about.

 

Let's discuss the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies since both of our ancestors were touched by it.

It's basically just north of Naples, going all the way to the island of Sicily, and the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies is such an interesting name for a kingdom in general. The way it came about was they were both called Sicily separately. Then Spain had control of one portion of it, and Austria had control of another portion of it. And there were wars fought between the two. Spain took it, and they said, "Okay, we're just going to call it the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies, and we're going to be part of our crown." 

Then Austria took it back, and it became the kingdom of the two Sicilies as well. They kept that. So, it went back and forth for a number of years between the two until Carlos came in. And that's when it became its own country. I say kind of because it was kind of a puppet country of Spain for a number of years until Maria Carolina came in.

 

You talked a little bit about Ferdinand. Who was he?

He was such a character. He was a man-child, to put it in today's terms. One of his favorite pastimes was hunting. He enjoyed playing games, and the games that he played were things along the lines of fishmonger or innkeeper. He really loved the people, and the people really truly loved him. They called him Re Nasone, the big nose king, and he would spend his mornings playing chess with old men out by the sea. That's what he loved. 

He really didn't have an interest in ruling and didn't intend to be king. When Carlos II returned to Spain, he brought his eldest son with him to be his heir, leaving Ferdinand as King of Naples. And Ferdinand just was not fit for it.

 

When he was 18, he married Maria Carolina, who was 16 at the time. He continued to be this man-child, and she had to be the one to come in and take care of it.

 

So now let's talk about Maria Carolina.

She comes into this, and she really wasn't actually intended to be the queen of Naples. Maria Theresa had one of her older daughters who was going to be the Queen of Naples. In fact, Maria Carolina was actually intended to be the Queen of France. That's what Maria Theresa was training Maria Carolina for. And it is interesting because some corners of the web talk about what would have happened if Maria Carolina had been the queen of France. What would happen? Which is really weird and fascinating when you start getting into that.

 

But I digress. Much like the pandemics that we have going on today, smallpox just ravaged Europe. And because [two of her sisters, each assigned to marry Ferdinand, fell ill and died], Maria Carolina found herself getting married to Ferdinand.

 

Maria Theresa was the OG helicopter mom. There were so many ways where she had control over her children in their other kingdoms. Maria Carolina had to write to her mother about everything in her day-to-day life, even when her menses started, their plans for having children, and the policies they were discussing. She was very, very involved with her children. She considered every child she placed, and she had 16 of them [13 survived infancy]. She placed them in different countries. And so she considered those her colonies. They weren't separate countries; they were colonies. So when Maria Carolina comes in here, she's got her mother being controlling, and then she's got Spain. Ferdinand has no intention of being the king. 

So what she does—as a teenager, mind you—is manage to take over control and basically tell everybody to stay in their lanes, pushing out a lot of Spain's influence. She winds up running the kingdom her way. The way she does it is just brilliant. She utilizes her family to help her make the power moves against Spain. And then, she would take advantage of the fact that her husband liked to go out and play, and if she wanted something with him, she would do simple things. She would utilize herself in ways to get him to be like, "Okay, I'll give in." Because he loved things like taking off gloves, he thought that was the ultimate sexy thing. So she would slowly remove her rings and gloves as she talked to him, and he would give in to whatever she wanted. That was the kind of woman she was, and that's what she came into.

 

She's done a lot of things, and when you step back and look at Italy as it is today, you still see those remnants. You see the architecture of Caserta and the art in that palace; she finished a lot of that palace and what she did for the people. She did progressive things, like protecting the coral reefs and utilizing science to plant the olive trees. We have so many olives in Southern Italy; so much of that is because of her, and she never truly got credit for it.

 

She also contributed to the military and defense. Can you speak to that?

She knew they were in a precarious position, so she focused on building that up so that they could withstand themselves. Because even geographically, if you look at Italy, you've got the territories north; they were all separate countries, little city-state countries in and of themselves. There were wars historically up there, so they had to protect their northern border. When the French Revolution began, you truly saw a bit of a change in the historical record when it came to her. She went from being an enlightened monarch to being very bitter and upset about the murder of her sister [Marie Antoinette]. 

 

So, she built up the military and focused on building up that strong military force because she knew it was only a matter of time before France invaded. She just knew, especially when Napoleon came in, that it would happen. She did a lot to try to protect herself and the kingdom from what Napoleon was doing.

 

I'd read that Maria Carolina had French chefs who introduced potatoes to Italy. Didn't she also introduce coffee?

That was one of the things that surprised me the most when I was writing the book because when we think of Italy, we think there's always coffee. There was always coffee, but it was considered bad luck to drink coffee before she came along. So I put in the book that every time she would turn over her coffee cup, there would be a pepper in her cup because they considered it bad luck to drink coffee. But she brought it with her from Austria because she was like, "I'm not living without my coffee," which I can really, really relate to. So she had it with her. She had it every morning, and then it just became trendy to be able to drink coffee. And it has become such a huge part of Italian culture.

 

They put a pepper in her cup?

Yeah, they would leave a pepper by her cup; she'd turn over a coffee cup, and there would be a pepper to ward off the bad luck, the evil eye. And then you have this queen who's willingly tempting Mal'occhio. They connected the two because coffee was so bitter.

 

She was a patron of artist Angelica Kauffman. Can you speak to her support for female artists?

Yes. I find this really fascinating. This was something that I really, really loved because it had a tie to Bridgerton because the queens of that period—you have Charlotte in England, you have Antoinette in France, and then you have Maria Carolina in Naples—had this system where they would take female artists, not just Angelica Kauffman, but other female artists, and they would exchange them between each other. They would make references. And these female artists could go from one kingdom to another, and they were patrons of these women.

It's truly a beautiful thing that they never get credit for. I think this type of feminism, the idea that women's rights aren't just women's rights; they're universal rights, they're human rights. She lends a lot of that to what you see regarding rights in Italy today. I know there's a lot of feminism talk, and that's something that comes up a lot, but when it comes to Italy, it's very much a human rights issue. And I think she pushed for that because she did a lot of that. She had a female personal librarian. As much as she could, she would utilize female artists.  

 

What is Maria Carolina's legacy?

I think truly caring about the country, truly caring about trying to make the country a priority—and not in a nationalistic way—in a way that allows people to take care of each other.

 

>>You can read more about Maria Carolina in Diana's book, Antoinette's Sister.<< 

 

 

 

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It was our first night in Palermo. My husband and I were on our honeymoon but chose to visit with relatives, who insisted we stay in their lovely home. My cousin Patrizia sat us down for supper: breaded cauliflower pasta with pine nuts, raisins, and capers. 

 

"This is just like my mother's recipe!" I exclaimed.

 

"It is a family recipe," Patrizia said with a smile. 

 

So, for years, that's what I thought—until I researched Sicilian recipes for my novels. While I have yet to see this particular cauliflower pasta on a restaurant menu, I uncovered a bevy of similar Sicilian cauliflower pasta recipes, such as Pasta chi Vruoccoli Arriminati.

 

But none had the capers, which my mother says add the slightly bitter and salty tanginess that's essential to counter the sweetness of the raisins. Then I stumbled on Michele Di Pietro's MangiaWithMichelle.com recipe for Sicilian pasta with cauliflower, pine nuts, raisins, and—bingo!—capers.

 

Michele, a New Jersey-based cookbook author, food writer, menu and recipe developer, professional chef, culinary consultant, and former certified public accountant, was gracious enough to take time out to chat with me about this recipe. We discussed her twist on a family classic, the essential ingredients, why you should overcook cauliflower, and what she hopes readers will take away.

 

Tell me about your background.

I am. I'm 100% Italian-American. I'm half Sicilian and half Abruzzese. My mom's parents came from Sicily separately at the turn of the century when they were young, and my dad's parents were immigrants as well. 

 

What is the history of Sicilian Pasta with Cauliflower, Pine Nuts, Raisins, and Capers for you and your family?

My mom used to make a dish that was sort of like an overcooked mash, kind of partially mashed cauliflower with lots of onions. She would finish it off with bread crumbs, and it was really, really good. And she would make a pasta with broccoli that is also very similar to that, whereas the broccoli is overcooked and it becomes sort of like the sauce for the dish. It's mixed with Pecorino. And so this is kind of a combination of those two ideas.

For me, it's like the way that she would make pasta with broccoli, and also thinking of the pasta with cauliflower dish that she used to make me.

I am a trained chef. I worked in the food service for many, many years, and most of my job was for many, many years was innovation and trying to come up with different ways and interesting ways of doing food to make things interesting. So it's just ingrained in me to always try and do things a little bit differently. 

Crispy capers, pine nuts, raisins, all three of those are very Sicilian ingredients, but the way that they're put together in this pasta is not really traditional. I think the traditional dish just has pine nuts and raisins and often anchovies, which I left out. So it's basically, it's kind of inspired by a traditional dish with my personal history based on my mom's dishes. And then, me wanting to add my own twist with the pine nuts and the Marcella wine-soaked raisins. 

 

Why are the pine nuts, raisins, and capers important in this recipe, and how do they contribute to the overall flavor?

Well, they contribute both in flavor and texture. Texture is a really important part of flavor. And so, for me, the capers are important because they add brininess and saltiness and, therefore, also umami, but they add texture because they're crispy. So that makes it interesting. The raisins add a pop of sweetness in a place where you wouldn't expect sweetness. And eating the savory pasta dish and the Marcella wine, like I said, that's just sort of like a fun, interesting twist on it, which just adds a little bit of extra flavor. They're important because they're all rooted in traditional Sicilian ingredients. 

 

You intentionally overcook your cauliflower. Why?

A lot of Italian Americans and Italians tend to overcook their vegetables, which is the exact opposite of what I learned in cooking school. I often think about, oh my god, Chef So-and-So from cooking school would fall over if they saw me cooking my vegetables like this. Why do Italian Americans and Italians tend to overcook their vegetables? I'm not really sure, but they do. And what happens to it in a dish like this is if it becomes part of the sauce. It's really a vegetable-based sauce. And it'll become more of a sauce the more you overcook the cauliflower because it allows you to mash it or smash it with a fork. And when we combine it [with the other ingredients], that will emulsify it, thicken it, and kind of coat the pasta, which is why it's really nice with the hearty pasta; it holds onto this heavier-in-the-texture sauce.

 

My mother uses breadcrumbs when she makes this dish. Can you speak to why Sicilians use breadcrumbs?

Well, it goes back to cucina povera, the combination of using what you have and not having a lot. So, back in the day, they didn't always have Pecorino Romano. I'm sure they didn't have any cheese at all, but they had leftovers from bread. So breadcrumbs were a way to add a little something to different dishes, a lot of times in pasta.

There are two iconic pasta dishes for [St. Joseph's Day]. One of them, which I also have a recipe for on my website, has breadcrumbs and anchovies. It's very, very simple. It's spaghetti with breadcrumbs and anchovies, and it doesn't have cheese. It's just toasted breadcrumbs, and it gives you all that texture. With that dish, specifically, the breadcrumbs represent the sawdust of St. Joseph, who's the patron saint of Sicily.

 

What do you hope readers will take away from your recipe?

I hope that all my recipes bring people together around the table. And I guess the last thing is I always just want people to make the recipe their own. I like all my recipes to be an inspiration. And just like I was inspired by the recipes and I made recipes my own, I would like them to do the same thing. So if they don't want to have crispy capers or they don't like capers, leave the capers out. Or if they want to make this recipe with broccoli instead of cauliflower, then do it.

 

>>Get Michele's Sicilian Pasta with Cauliflower, Pine Nuts, Raisins, and Capers recipe here!<<

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It's prickly pear season with so-called fichi d'India showing up in markets across Sicily. With a sweet taste reminiscent of watermelon, these spiky fruits can be found in the wild and on farms in the Mount Etna foothills. But what exactly is a prickly pear, and how do you eat them? Read on for a primer on this dangerously delicious fruit.

 

What Are Prickly Pears?

Native to Central Mexico, where it is called nopales, the prickly pear plant (Opuntia ficus-India) was first brought to Europe in the 16th century by Spanish explorers. Today, prickly pears grow on every continent except for Antarctica. In the United States, you can find Optunia cacti growing in the West and Southwest. You'll recognize them for their slender, beavertail-shaped pads, known as shovels, and their brilliant green, yellow, orange, red, and purple fruits (also called tuna). Both are edible.

 

In Sicily's markets, the preferred prickly pears are labeled as bastardoni. These fruits result from the plant's second flowering and are bigger and sweeter following an initial pruning in the spring. 

 

Sicilian Prickly Pear Recipes

Whether you're a fan of sweet or savory, you'll find a broad spectrum of prickly pear recipes bursting with Sicilian flavor. Try your hand at a traditional mostarda fichi d'India or gourmet Sicilian Etna prickly pear risotto (pictured below). Thirsty? Sip a glass of prickly pear juice. In the mood for a light, refreshing dessert? Prepare a palate-cleansing prickly pear granita. Sicily is also known for its prickly pear liqueur, which you can purchase at specialty stores or make your own.

 

Credit: Terra Orti - I Love Fruit & Veg from Europe

How to Pick Your Own Prickly Pears

If you're lucky enough to have access to prickly pear cacti, you may be wondering how to harvest them. Whatever you do, don't use your bare hands! Prickly pear fruit is covered in tiny spines called glochids, which can get in your skin. Ouch! 

 

Experts recommend wearing a long-sleeved shirt, long pants, and thick gloves. There are a variety of innovative methods, which I showcase below. Tools of the trade include small blow torches, tongs, and the traditional coppo, which you can purchase online or make yourself by cutting in half a 500-milliliter bottle and affixing it to a stick. 

 

 

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No matter where you are in Italy, it seems you're never far away from a tabaccheria. The blue and white "T" sign marks the spot for what were once apothecaries that sold tobacco products and salt (yes, salt).

 

My Nonno was the son of a tabaccheria owner, and so, too, is Gaetano Alioto in my first novel. A cousin of mine still runs my great-grandparents' shop in Porticello, Sicily, which I've had the chance to visit. There, beyond a window featuring traditional Sicilian souvenirs, I saw my great-grandfather's photograph between a picture of Jesus on the cross and another of Saint Joseph cradling the Christ Child above a row of lottery tickets and the counter where you could purchase a whole lot more than the tobacco that lined the shelves.

Stores like my family's have one foot rooted in tradition and another stepping forward, with some even embracing smart vending machines. To learn more about Italy's ubiquitous tabaccherie, I reached out to Paula Reynolds, a journalist who has researched and written a definitive guide to tabaccheria culture. 

 

 

Tell me about yourself. What is your connection to Italy?

I, unfortunately, cannot claim any Italian roots; however, I am a die-hard Italophile and unceremoniously have declared myself a citizen of the heart! I first experienced Italy in 2006 as a midlife adult with a dream to see this legendary country. Fast forward to 2024, and I am preparing to pack my bags for my 32nd trip to the Bel Paese. During that span, I have learned enough of the beautiful Italian language to be dangerous, have made beloved friends, and have found my way to being a contributing writer for L'Italo-Americano, a publication based in California that has been sharing Italian culture for over 100 years.

 

What is a tabaccheria?

A tabaccheria, or tabacchi as they are more often referred to in Italy, is a unique sort of "one-stop shop" that is an ingrained part of Italian life from village to metropolis. The name implies the sale of tobacco, which, of course, they do, but there is so much more available over the counter in one of these small shops. Bus tickets, government contracts, loan agreements, postage stamps, tax documents, lottery tickets, pay a traffic fine… and ease the pain with a quick throwback of liquor or espresso. Greeting cards, stationery, pens, lighters, small tools... It's truly a corner market done Italian style, including the free gossip if you hang around long enough.

 

How and when did they first show up in Italy?

Tabaccherie came to be as a means for government control of the "medicinal" plant known as tobacco and was hailed as a curative sometime in the late 1500s. As the product caught on and gained popularity, the government caught on, as well, and decided this was a great way to throw in a few more taxes to pad the coffers. These so-called apothecaries were the only sanctioned venues for selling salt (another highly valuable product) and tobacco by licensed tobacconists. A large white "T" hailed the shop along with the words "Sali e Tabacci." Today's shops have evolved into much more, of course, but the large "T" on a blue background and even the "Sali e Tabacci" are still seen on signs today. Tradition is a serious thing in Italy!

 

The sign today makes for easy finding of a tabacchi and has almost become a comfort when I'm in Italy as an easy spot for snatching a bus ticket or even just asking a question about the neighborhood. I'm often struck by the proprietors of these shops; it seems it might be a qualification that they all look unapproachable and grumpy, but once the ice is broken, they're your new best friend!

 

How have these shops evolved over time?

Of course, salt has lost its status as a coveted means of commerce, and modern tabacchi no longer sell it, but these shops have inevitably evolved into an ingrained part of Italian culture. All the services provided make it much easier for citizens to tend to daily business without having to seek out separate entities or offices. Can you imagine being able to go pay your taxes, grab a birthday card for Zia Maria, stock up on chewing gum, get that bus ticket for tomorrow's shopping, and buy the marriage license you'll need in a few months all in one shop? Quite a concept! Over the years I've traveled to Italy, I've seen some of the evolution, as well, that goes with our fast-paced tech world. Once upon a time, buying that recharge card for my little Italian flip phone was a huge deal, and the tabacchi was the place. I've noticed now that you'd be hard-pressed to find one in most shops, although not unheard of. Which also makes me think even further back to the days when it was a pay phone and a "calling card" with X-number of minutes. And where did one find those? You guessed it: the tabaccheria.

 

What else can you buy at a tabaccheria today?

Along with all of the unusual things such as legal documents, it's also easy to find many of the things we'd find in an American "gas station" – a cooler with cold drinks, candy, snacks, small toys, a few assorted sundries, and even things that a few local nonnas may have knitted as I've seen in village shops. Betting cards of sorts called schedine can also be purchased... quite important during soccer season! Size does matter when we're talking tabacchi as the larger ones often carry a small selection of cosmetics (found nail polish there once), as well as small first aid needs such as Band-Aids, aspirin, last-minute birth control, etc.

 

How do tabaccherie vary from region to region, if at all?

That's a good question! I've traveled throughout most regions of Italy (Sardinia coming up in a few weeks for the first time), and every tabacchi I've been in seems like a cousin to the one before — a little different, yes, but not so much that they feel unfamiliar. To my knowledge, there are no grand differences in what they carry other than local preferences of the owner. I've noted that some are very basic while others seem to be an almost overwhelming hodge-podge of "stuff" to choose from.

 

When I was last in Italy, I noticed tabaccheria vending machines. What about tabacchi culture is lost with such transactions?

Yes, those vending machines are quite common for cigarette purchases… and other goods (wink wink) throughout Italy. This is just a personal observation, and this would be an interesting question to pose to Italian citizens, but I feel that the culture of the tabaccheria is safe. Italians value tradition and connection; without a tabacchi on the corner, a lot would be lost as far as community goes. It might be a few seconds quicker to buy a bus ticket from a machine, but look at all that's lost! None of the latest gossip shared, no candy bar to let the little one indulge in, no chance to slyly show off the new shoes… just so many things that would be lost to the tight communities that make Italy such a special place.

 

Italy even has fresh pizza vending machines that seem like a great idea, but every Italian friend I queried thought it was insane and would never take off or replace the corner pizzeria. Tradition and culture, thank goodness, supersede many things in Italy…part of the reason I love her so!

 

 

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My author journey started with an interest in the story of my Sicilian grandparents, my Nonna and Nonno, who were separated during World War II but found their way back to one another. I wrote about it as a student in Los Angeles's popular Writing Studio class, where teacher Elana Golden encouraged me to pursue novel writing.

 

Nonna was about seventeen years old when she and her family moved from Porticello, Sicily, to Milwaukee, Wisconsin, in the late 1930s. They sailed aboard the legendary Rex, which appears in Federico Fellini's Oscar-winning Amarcord. 

 

Once settled in Wisconsin, Nonna worked as a seamstress at a garment factory called Junior House. During the war, Franklin D. Roosevelt established the War Production Board, which converted factories of peacetime industries into manufacturing plants for military equipment. And Nonna and her fellow Junior House seamstresses transitioned to sewing parachutes. 

 

My Nonno, the son of a tabaccheria owner, remained in Sicily until Italy joined the war on June 10, 1940. As a soldier in the Italian Army, he was stationed in Cagliari, Sardinia, the site of a series of Allied bombings. In later years, he said little about his military involvement but asserted that his loyalty was to King Victor Emmanuel III. 

 

I found their stories fascinating, particularly the fact that their love could survive the time and distance apart. As I continued writing, the story evolved. It was no longer about Concetta and Gaetano Agnello but instead about two fictional characters named Concetta Balistreri and Gaetano Alioto. Now, it is set to debut as a historical novel in January 2025. I hope that my story will shed light on the Sicilian experience during World War II, and I look forward to sharing it with you.

 

 

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I'm proud to announce that I have signed a two-book deal with Storm Publishing. My World War II-era historical novels featuring Sicilian protagonists are tentatively slated for January and June 2025 releases. This has been a long time coming, and I am so grateful to everyone who read early drafts and/or cheered me on through the process.

I have felt truly welcomed by Kate Smith and the team at Storm Publishing. Kate’s sincere passion for both of my books and her investment in the characters and their stories have been incredibly inspiring. I am excited to embark on this journey to release my books into the world.

Watch this space for more news and highlights of my journey.