Click here to view at Italian Notebook

The pignata, seemingly straight out of Geppetto’s workshop in Pinocchio, is a ceramic pot that comes in various sizes. It has an adorable tubby body with two stout handles attached lopsidedly to the jug. Facing away from the fire, they never get hot even after hours in the red-hot embers… very clever. Many people have fireplaces around here and the pignata continues to be used in the Sannio to this day.

While bread-making with friends who live on an isolated farm, I chanced upon a pignata in action. So what bread and pizza have to do with the pignata?

Everything, in a way. Making and baking bread in a wood-burning oven takes half the night and half a day and the concerted effort of the whole household, leaving no time for cooking.

After preparing the mother of yeast the night before, early the next morning the women mix and knead the dough. (oh, and by the way; they make enough so that parents, grandparents and in-laws will have bread for the entire week. And while they’re at it, they’ll make pizza, pizza-pane and a few crostate too… a mountain of dough to be kneaded!) This is heavy-duty work that takes almost two hours and strains nearly every muscle in the back, neck and arms.

After pummeling the daylights out of the dough, it is put to rest, covered in clean sheets and old blankets and left to rise (is this an oxymoron?). Now the men can start the fire in the oven, a procedure that verges on the realm of alchemy… but that is another story.

Then comes the spezzatura, or division of the dough; then a second rising, calibration of the furnace temperature, elimination of the embers and finally, the frenzied ritual of filling the oven. By the time everyone catches their breath it’s way past lunchtime.

Herein lies the beauty of the pignata. Throughout the whole morning, with little more than a stirring and a topping up of liquid, the little pot has sat staunchly in the fire all on its own, bubbling quietly, delicately cooking its contents of beans, celery, garlic and guanciale (pork jowl… like bacon, only better) with absolutely no fuss.

Ladled onto hot bruschetta, with a drizzle of olio piccante, this is a meal fit for food afficionados!

click here to view at Italian Notebook

If there is one thing that gets my knickers in a twist, it’s those things that still have me stymied after 50 years in Italy.  So let’s like to try to solve the broccoli/broccoletti dilemma once and for all, shall we?

First up are broccoletti aka cime di rapa, rapini and broccoli di rape (broccoli raab or rabe in english).  This vegetable is actually the top tender leaves and buds of a wild yellow flower that is picked before it blossoms.  I am told they are a member of the Chicory Family.  In Naples they are called friarielli - not to be confused with friggiarelli, which are those scrumptious little green peppers that are stir-fried in garlic and oil.

Then an American couple told me that broccoletti in America (aka broccolini) are a different plant altogether; a cross between broccoli and Gai Lan or Asian Broccoli.  Oh Lord!

Chaos sets in when it comes to the broccoli enigma because as a little girl in America, I remember broccoli as a vegetable that looked like a tiny green tree.

But when I came to Rome and was sent to the market to buy some, the vendor handed me a fascinating, alien-green cauliflower (cavolfiore) with fractal spires that looked like something that had been revisited by Max Escher.  He called it broccolo.

Now broccolo, or cavolo, is actually a cabbage, which is part of the Brassicaceae Family.  Other members include: cavolo cappuccio (used to make sauerkraut), cavolo nero, cavolo cinese, broccolo cinese, cavolo portoghese, cavolo rosso, cavoletti di Bruxelles (Bruxelles sprouts) and even CAVOLO BROCCOLO!

MA CHE CAVOLO! (in english, what the…!) or as the Romans say, “SONO CAVOLI VOSTRI” or ‘it’s your problem’.

And so be it!

Wesley making Cotolette di Provola

“Barbara and Federico, Thank you so much for arranging such a delightful cooking experience in the Mustilli kitchen. I was so happy to share the pasta making experience with my 16 year old nephew; Marili and her staff were so encouraging to him. I like to remember the “Bravo, bravo” when he was forming the caviatelli. I cannot wait to make the arancini and calzoncini at home…the latter was especially delicious and different than any I had had before. Federico’s tour of San Agata dei Goti and the Mustilli wine cellar was also wonderful. Who knew that such a fabulous, historical, walled town was so close to Naples. These couple of days were an exceptional highlight in our visit to Italy. Can’t wait until we can do it again. Ciao! “

Welcome to a delicious culinary and cultural event hosted by Marilì Mustilli.  Together with her husband Leonardo and their two daughters, Anna Chiara and Paola, her family runs the prestigious Mustilli Winery, set in the medieval town of S. Agata dei Goti and perched on a spectacular tufa outcrop. Under Marilì’s expert supervision you will learn traditional dishes of Campania, including hand-made pasta and vegetable pasta sauce, a meat or cheese dish and a dessert. All the ingredients and herbs used are seasonal and are grown locally.

Program
10:30am - Arrival at S. Agata dei Goti
Cooking Menu:
Home-made pasta (cavatielli) and a pasta sauce using seasonal and locally-grown vegetables.
Involtino (stuffed escalope) or Cotoletta di Provola (Provola Cheese Cutlet if you prefer vegetarian)
Torta di Nocciola (Hazelnut Cake)

Lunch will include all the food you have cooked in addition to the renowned Falanghina and Aglianico wines produced by the Mustilli family.

After lunch you will visit the ancient underground wine cellars that were hewn into tufa rock in the 16th century and your guide will take you on a walking tour of the ancient town.

Price: 100,00 euro per person (4 people or more)
150,00 euro per person (2-3 people)

includes: cooking course, wine tasting, visit to the wine cellars, tour of the town and your own personal guide and interpreter.

I recently spent five glorious days revisiting Puglia and one of the places I enjoyed most was Alberobello.  That is the beauty of travelling in Italy: once is never enough!

This was my third visit to the UNESCO world heritage site, and I could focus less on the quaint and irresistible charm of the round tiled roofs set on the square-based structures, and more on their history.

The town is ensconsed in thick groves of olive and almond trees that thrive on the dry, bouldered soil of Puglia.  In fact the soil is so rocky that new stones come to light every time the soil is tilled, thus creating an endless supply of light-weight stones that can be used as rooftiles.

The history of these unusual dwellings dates back to the second half of the 15th century when the territory was ruled by the Aquaviva family, who had introduced some forty families into the region to clear the terrain.  Over time, the land was populated by these farmers who learned to cultivate the rough land, rendering it extremely fruitful.

However, during the same period, the Kingdom of Naples had enacted legislation requiring all new towns to pay a heavy tax.  In response, the feudal lords ordered their tenants to build ‘dry’ dwellings without the use of mortar, so that they could easily be pulled down in the case of royal inspection, cunningly avoiding taxation!

In 1797 a group of brave citizens petitioned the Bourbon King Ferdinando IV who, by royal decree, in May of the same year set the village free.

View this article on Italian Notebook