Just when you think the heat has taken its final toll on the countryside, when the trees are wilting with thirst, when the high grasses are nothing but a tinderbox, when you can’t stand another day of brutal sunshine, the rain finally arrives.  Soft and gentle, it soothes and cools and relieves your anxiety, giving way to a physical feeling of release and renewal.   People here describe it as sense of grace.  When you live in southern Italy it’s easy to see the ties between the people, their land and livelihood, natural and supernatural phenomena, and religion.  Events that are promoted by the Church are often tinged with a little paganism, such as in the food festivals that take place throughout the year: there is the cherry and apple sagre at S. Agata dei Goti, the wheat festival at Foglianise, even the mushrooms are feted at Cusano Mutri; all these crops are anxiously awaited and their bounty celebrated.  A case in point is the Festa dell’Uva at Solopaca.

Solopaca is a small town (population just over 4000) located at the base of the Taburno Mountain and has been known for its wines since the 12th century although its origins date back to pre-history. Like many towns in Campania, it was invaded by the Normans after the fall of the Roman Empire.  In the 15th and 16th centuries it came under the rule of feudal families such as the Monsori, the Lagonesse and the Caraccoioli.

Grapes and wines represent the mainstays of the local economy, so this is a really important event.  Mayors from all over the region are seated on a raised platform strategically placed before the main church, accompanied by the city’s police force carrying their colorful municipal banners.  Solopacan’s parade along the main street in period costumes, solemly pacing ahead of the sbandieratori (flag throwers). There are brigands and pulcinellas, peasants playing the putipù, kings, queens and damsels, gayly defying the brooding clouds that are gathering over the mountain tops.

Hundreds of people line the streets, young and old, eating sausages, broiled corn and ice cream, waiting to see the giant floats as they pass by (which will then procede to Naples to be displayed the following day).   But they all have one thing in common: they are completely covered and carefully inlaid with grapes: green, gold and black.  First come the various wine producers with their logos interpreted as mosaics of grapes.  Then comes the triumphant Madonna, elegantly cloaked in black and gold (grapes).

Then follow the bigger floats with subjects running from political satire to television shows.  My favorite had a sign boasting, “Non farti prendere dal panico, futtite ‘na bottiglia e Aglianico” (”Don’t get yourself into a panico, relax and drink a bottle of Aglianico”).

I enjoy participating in these events where the sacred and profane intermingle quite naturally.  A nun strolls with a woman in excruciatingly tight pants; priests and politicians pose amicably in front of the church. Life is too damn short and everyone wants to enjoy the last summer sun… as Winter is just around the corner.

It all started as a game.  Sabra was showing off her acrobatic skills, after a big Sunday lunch at Terre di Conca.

As usual, a small group of people had gathered to watch.   Suddenly a man came forward and insisted that I enrol Sabra in the upcoming dog show at Roccamonfina.  (This event was part of the inaugural festivities of the Regional Park and was being held to raise money and awareness for a sterilization campaign in the area.  Stray dogs are a major problem in Campania where they are often hit by cars, leaving them homeless and crippled)

“But she’s not even a pure breed” I protested, secretly proud that he seemed so impressed.

“Non importa” he interrupted, “Nobody here has ever seen anything like this!”

You must know that Sabra loves to perform and will do just about anything for her pallina (her little ball).  She sits and lies down; she jumps on command, she twists, rolls over and comes to heal;  she slaloms like a down-hill racer; she throws herself down any slide in the playground; she will sit up and beg like a chihuahua; so long as you have her little ball in your hand.

So I enrolled her in the contest and on the day of the show, as we left the villa, chef Berardino Lombardo’s parting words were: “If Sabra wins a prize I’m going to cook her a steak!” and off we went.  The town’s central square had been cordoned off and a raised platform constructed for the judges. On a table to the left were the trophies, medals and statues.  I pointed to a sculpture of a german shepherd that looked like Sabra and told Chiara “We’re going to win that one”.

There were alot of dogs. Pure breeds, mixed breeds, and a couple of alien breeds pathetically dressed as ballerinas, shivering in their bows and tutus. In the initial round Sabra behaved beautifully, trotting elegantly by my side and seating herself in the center of the piazza. She performed two or three commands, received her pallina and trotted back to our group. She was chosen as one of the 10 finalists.

On the second round we managed to present an “orsetto” (always a favourite, meaning ‘little bear’, where she sits up on her back haunches looking absolutely adorable, and a “rollover” which were received many “ooh’s” and “ah’s”.

It took the judges another half hour to make their decisions.  They announced the “Best of Breed” winners and the dogs and owners were duly photographed with their trophies.  Then came “Il Più Grande” (the biggest), “Il Più Piccolo” (the smallest), “il Più Carino” (the cutest), “Il Più Simpatico” (the most endearing), “Il Più Buffo” (the funniest)… It was getting dark and we had to admit that Sabra had probably not won over any hearts.

Then, just as we were starting to head back to the car, the judge announced, “And last but not least, we award the prize for “Best Show” to Sabra and her owner Signora Goldfinger!” (it’s the closest they ever get to Goldfield)

What a rush! I started to scream and jump up and down like one of those crazy ballroom-dance moms. We ran to the stage, Sabra prancing like a princess, where we recieved our prize: lo and behold, it was the german shepherd statue mounted on a thick slab of marble…

…and when Sabra got home, there was a huge steak waiting for her.

Che soddisfazione!

Savour the Sannio is happy to announce the inauguration of a new regional park in the Sannio: Il Parco Regionale di Roccamonfina. The area of the park is delimited by the sloping hills of the extinct volcano of Roccamonfina and incorporates the towns of Sessa Aurunca, Teano, Conca della Campania, Galluccio, Tora, Piccilli, Marzano Appio and Roccamonfina itself. The park highlights a little-known treasure trove of nature, history, art, culture, agriculture and culinary traditions.

The park’s president Raffaele Aveta writes, “This is a first step towards giving the territory of Roccamonfina the visibility it deserves. Visitors from all over the world are invited to embark on a journey through our medieval towns and hamlets, our soaring chestnut groves and the collective memories of our people as well as to taste the extraordinary food and wines that are typical to this territory. This is the best way to safeguard the fertile yet fragile ecosystem of this volcano”

The next step will be the establishment of a farmer’s market where people can come on weekends to buy the local varieties of fruits and vegetables directly from the producers. This initiative is hosted by Eco-chef Berardino Lombardo on his beautiful estate of Terre di Conca. “In an age of globalization and massification, it is important for both consumers and producers to have a place where the unique heirloom varietes that are indigenous to this area can be seen, tasted…and saved from extinction. “

ferragosto m 1. (il 15 agosto) August holiday, Feast of the Assumption, August ‘Bank Holiday’ 2. (periodo) August holidays pl. August holiday period.

The days preceeding and following Ferragosto are the longest and hottest of the year and mark a ritual moment of italian idleness. August 15th represents the acme of physical and psychological wellbeing: you’re feeling good because you’ve left behind work and worries, yet ahead there’s still more holiday to savour. Anxieties are put aside and all attention is brought to bear on this moment of pure stress-free laziness. In Campania this means big family get togethers with food, wine and song and I have rarely seen people have such a good time.

This year Federico and I were on the opposite side of the idleness spectrum as we were helping cater the big Ferragosto buffet lunch for 100 people at Terre di Conca. The day was crowned with beautiful weather and people began arriving as early as 10 am in order to take advantage of the sun and swimming pool. Toddlers were playing with the cats who were in turn getting in the way of the chefs. Friarielli, portulaca and zucchini flowers were being brought in from the fields and the batter for the deep-fried pizzelle was rising. Federico and Peppino (the singer) were setting up the sound system.

Hunger struck at one o’clock and the buffet began. There was a brief moment of tension as everyone surged toward the buffet table, but this group of old customers knew that Berardino served more food than anyone could possibly eat so the atmosphere was easy going and everyone actually lined up like Brits at a taxi stand! First came the fried antipasti: pizzelle (puffed salted pastry filled with tomatoe sauce and basilico), zucchini flowers, portulaca (a green weed) and friarelli (small green peppers). People ate, drank and relaxed while listening to Peppino sing nostalgic songs by Fred Bongusto and Andriano Celentano, accompanied by tasteful recorded arrangements.

Then came the fresh, oven-baked pasta made with tomatoes, eggplant and hard-boiled eggs. A few teenagers returned to the pool to top up their tans and Peppino shifted gear to more rythmic pieces. Husbands and wives, grandfathers and grandaughters, mothers and friends began dancing, embraced in each others sense of belonging. By the time the roasted meats arrived people were ready for more food and wine. Desserts were served at around four pm followed by cold watermelon, chilled prosecco and provolone cheese. Peppino took out his guitar and sang the classic neapolitan songs: Mare Chiaro, Turna a Surriento, U Sarracino…

With work over, the staff started to enjoy themselves with a bit of wine or beer and accompanied Peppino, singing off-key into the microphone. The evening came to an end when Berardino carried his assistant over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and jumped into the pool.

There may be many problems facing this country but, grazie a Dio, Italians still know how to seize the moment. Carpe Diem.

(Thank you Dorothy for two of the pictures!) 

For the past ten years the amateur theater group in the little town of S. Agata dei Goti, has been masterfuly directed by my next door neighbor, the retired comedy actress Hilde Maria Renzi, has put on a play in neapolitan dialect by Eduardo de Filippo. This year’s offering, Fortuna con la “F” Maiuscola, débuted inside the courtyard of the town’s 17^th century episcopio, or bishopric, and was filled to the brim with men, women, children, and local dignitaries. In its 11^th season this is such social a high point that the show is prolonged for four days, allowing the whole town to see the show. Tickets are free.

But who could have forseen that this year Italy would be still be in the European Championship playoffs?! For days people were talking of nothing else. The local bars had set up improvised screens with big white bed sheets. At 8 p.m. people were already arriving, armed with chairs, flags and anxiously tooting their whistles. As I walked towards the outdoor theatre, I wondered if there would really be anybody willing to forego the excruciating excitement to see an old Eduardo de Filippo play…

At 9 o’clock there were 10 old women sitting in a sea of empty green chairs. However, in dribs and drabs, slowly but surly more and more people began to arrive. By 9:30 the episcopio was practically full: women of all ages had decided to come to the theater, leaving behind their husbands and sons to watch their soccer team.

As the lights were about to go down an old woman looked around and chuckled to her friends: “It looks like we’re all widows for one night!”