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The other day I was walking by the pharmacy in my little town of S. Agata dè Goti. It is run by the Viola family and I was surprised to see a long line of women waiting to enter the door.  What was going on?  Had there been a sudden epidemic or an accident of some sort?

As I neared the door, I was relieved to see that the women didn’t seem at all upset, but were animatedly discussing a momentous topic: the dish that would be gracing every table on Easter Sunday, the symbol of Neapolitan pastry: la pastiera.

Pastiera is a delicious and nutritious pie make of ricotta, boiled grain, eggs, lard, milk, sugar, spices and candied fruits cooked in a pastry shell in an appropriate pan called ‘il ruoto’.  It is baked on Holy Thursday and Good Friday and is served on Easter Sunday, which allows enough time for the fragrances to mix, giving it its unique flavor.

It has, however, a secret ingredient: aqua di fiori d’arancio or aroma of orange blossoms.

The origins of this recipe goes back to the cult of Ceres, Roman goddess of agriculture, fertility and motherly love, whose worshipers brought grain, eggs, milk and honey in procession to celebrate the rebirth of life in Spring.

But pastiera as it is known today was developed in the peace and quiet of the ancient convent of San Gregorio Armeno in Naples, rather appropriately built on the ruins of the temple dedicated to Ceres.  The story goes that the nuns decided to develop a recipe that would signify the Resurrection: eggs symbolizing Life and orange blossoms denoting innocence, chastity, eternal love, marriage and fruitfulness.  They made hundreds of these pies and distributed them at Easter to the wealthy patrons of Naples.

But where does one find aroma of orange blossoms? That was what I was about to find out at Mrs. Viola’s pharmacy. There on the counter, next to the chapstick, was a basket full of little bottles with yellow labels stating: “ Farmacia Viola,  S. Agata dei Goti (BN), Essenza per Colombe”.  There was no list of ingredients on the bottle, but my curiosity was so tickled that I had to buy a bottle.

When I returned home, I unscrewed the top and sure enough, a heady perfume of orange and cinnamon filled my nostrils with the aroma of pastiera.

Ahhhh! Spring is here at last!

Zì Giggino

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In Italy, in cities all around the country, families are foraging through stuffy closets, garages and cellars. They are looking for certain old boxes wrapped with tape and string; once found they carefully place them on the living room floor. Now the ritual of Christmas can finally begin to unfold. Fathers untie the string from around the boxes and gently open the lids to reveal a chaos of cotton. They search delicately with their hands among the various tree decorations until they find what they’re really looking for: the heirloom figurines to be placed in the nativity scenes called presepe. Children watch, anxiously transfixed as each one is unwrapped and dusted. It seems like the reenactment of the adoration of Christ once removed.

In Campania the passion for presepe is taken to the highest of heights. Naples is famous for its Via San Gregorio Armeno, an entire street dedicated to the production of classic and contemporary figurines.
In the tiny town of S. Agata dè Goti my neighbor, zì Giggino, has not been seen for days. Shh! He is putting the finishing touches on his latest presepio.

A diminutive of zio Luigi (Little Uncle Luigi), Zì Giggino is well-known for his nativity scenes. Not happy to simply recreate the manger scene, he recreates the entire town of Bethlehem, designing the scenery, the architecture, the lighting and the plants, all with a maniacal attention to detail.

I never would have known about this had I not found him one summer morning in the garage, surrounded by sheets of cork and bits of wood. He showed me buckets of tiny plastic animals and electrical circuits, bottles of paint and shelves of colored paper that he collects all year round. I asked if he would let me see his next creation in December and then promptly forgot all about it.
But yesterday I thought I heard the squeal of zampognari somewhere inside the building. That’s odd, I thought, what are they doing here? Then I heard a knock on the door and Zì Giggino beckoned me to follow him upstairs. There was his latest masterpiece, being launched into the spirit of Christmas by two friends playing their strident bagpipes.

versione italiana

Saturday, October 9th at 19:30 - Polo Culturale Gastronomico in Piazza Umberto I, Montesarchio

Faith Stewart-Gordon, ex-patron of the iconic Russian Tea Room in New York City and one of America’s great restaurateurs, came to the Sannio earlier this year.  For many months, in the course of the preparation of her itinerary, we corresponded and I had somewhat overcome my initial awe (my memories of the RTR included the time, as a teenager, when my flamboyant dance teacher took me there to have a hushed tea seated in the famous red leather booths that had been graced by the derrieres of  Zero Mostel, Rudolph Nureyev, Grace Kelly, Paul McCartney, Isaac Stern, Jackie Onassis, Woody Allen and the Aga Khan…to name a few), but as the time for her arrival drew near my anxiety began to resurface.  What would she really be like?

To make a long story short, Faith turned out to be a terrific person.  A great dog-lover, sensitive, engaging and easy-going, Faith was wonderful to get along with and like all modern-day tourists, snapped pictures of the sites, the scenery and the people.

After she left we continued to keep in touch and about three months later Faith sent me a photo of a picture she’d just finished.  It was a view of a corner of St Agata dei Goti as seen from the town’s tiny pharmacy.  I was immediately impressed because she had perfectly grasped the light, the colors and feeling of the little square after having spent only a few hours there! Oh, how I wanted to see - and secretly possess- that painting…

Over the following weeks Faith sent me a series of photos of paintings, each one better than the last.  There were renditions of the frescos at Oplontis, Pompeii, the views of Mt Vesuvius and the Bay of Naples.  But there were also images of the Sannio, in the ramparts of S. Agata dei Goti, Trajan’s Arch in Benevento, Roman ruins of Sepino and Samnite remains at Pietrabbondante.

Around the same time I had met Stella Ricci, one the Sannio’s great pastry chefs, who was in the process of opening a cultural and culinary center in an 18th century palace in Montesarchio.  In no time at all, after seeing Faith’s paintings, she agreed to hold an exhibit of her work which we called Fra Tavole e Tavolozze (the equivalent in english being ‘Of Plates and Palettes’) in honor of both her entrepreneurial and artistic talents.

Faith will be present at the opening and will give a presentation, including anecdotes about the many VIP’s that were her habitual clients at the Russian Tea Room as well as her experience in art as both a painter and collector.  There will be a buffet of caviar and russian delicacies, vodka cocktails and tea served in the russian style with cherry preserves instead of sugar.

It has been a pleasure and an honor to work with Faith and Stella on this exhibit. To have someone come from so far and appreciate the beauty of the Sannio and to be inspired enough to want to paint it is a wonderful tribute to this little-know region.  That she would come all this way to share them is utterly fantastic!

All readers of this blog are welcome to come.

For more information tel. 0823.953663 or email:barbaragoldfield@savourthesannio.com

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Stella = Star. 

Stella Ricci is the premier baker and chocolatier of the Sannio and a very entertaining woman.  I had the opportunity to watch her give a fascinating lecture/demonstration on the making of Babà and Sfogliatelle, two of the many pastries that are now legendary in Campania.

Babà are Campania’s version of cupcakes.  Made with flour, yeast, eggs, sugar and LOTS of butter, these mini cakes look like little upside-down chef’s hats.  The dough is whisked energetically for almost half an hour, and is turned out only after it makes a slapping sound in the beater. 

Then comes the interesting part. The extra kneading of the dough is performed by taking a handful of the mixture and throwing it - much like a yo-yo or paddle ball - into the air and catching it again. After this motion is repeated a few times it is then spezzato, or broken off, just like mozzarella.  The dough is pinched through the top of the hand and dropped into little individual baking tins.  After cooking and cooling, the babà is soaked in a syrupy mixture of hot water, sugar and rum, then squeezed dry like a sponge.  This is how it is sold, but once home it is doused with additional rum before serving.

The dish originated in Lemberg in the 1600’s, when it was known as kugelhopf.  The story goes that the deposed king of Poland Stanislas Leszczynska, tasted the dessert while exiled in France.  He found the cake dry and threw it off his plate in disgust where it landed in a puddle of rum that was on the table.  He watched as the cake soaked up the liquor and decided to taste it again.  He was so delighted with the result that he named it after his favorite story-book hero, Ali Baba, and it  eventually became know simply as ‘babà’.