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Exploring Sicily’s Food History with Mary Taylor Simeti

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 withOn 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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Cucuzza is a Love Language for The Great American Recipe Finalist Marcella DiChiara

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 onThe 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.

 

Whatcucuzzadish 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 yourcucuzzarecipe received byThe Great American Recipejudges?

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 aboutcucuzzi.

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 owncucuzzaplants?

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 yourcucuzza-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 grewcucuzzaplants 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 yourcucuzzaseeds?

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 acucuzzatake 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 bountifulcucuzzaharvest?

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 storecucuzziafter 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 ofcucuzzaversus 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 cookcucuzzi?

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 cookingcucuzza, 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’sCucuzzastew recipe here!<<

 

 

 

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Exploring the Sicilian Language with Gaetano Cipolla

My mother was born in the U.S. but 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 predating Italian. 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 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 and 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 also used 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 would 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 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 produced two books introducing Americans to Sicilian poetry because I believe 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 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 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 someone in Palermo 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 a written one?

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 unique phonetic or grammatical features 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 people will take away from your lessons and writings about the Sicilian language?

My work tries to educate the American public about the values and contributions of the Sicilians throughout their 3,000-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 dominators. But Sicilians have always kept their identity. One of the goals of my organization is to not only promote Sicilian culture but also to educate people. 

 

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

 

 

 

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Examining the Eggplant: A Historical Perspective

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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Cucuzza e Tenerumi: A Tale of Discovery

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 encountertenerumiandcucuzzi?

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 thecucuzza?

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’scucuzza e tenerumi al pomodororecipehere!<<

 

 

 

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Capers, Sicily’s Tiny Umami Bombs

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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Discovering the Sweet Legacy of Sicily’s Blood Oranges

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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Madonna del Lume Connects Sicily and San Francisco Across Generations

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: [email protected]

 

 

 

 

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How Tomatoes Became the Heart of Italian Cuisine

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. 

 

>>GetTomatoes: A Global Historyhere!<<

 

 

 
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Montclair State’s Sicily Study Abroad: A Journey Through History and Culture

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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