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Cooking Kohlrabi: A Humble Vegetable Rich in Tradition

 

Bulbous and green with antennae-like leaves, the kohlrabi almost resembles a cartoon alien rather than the brassica vegetable that it is. Also called German turnip or turnip cabbage, this cultivar of wild cabbage is not typically found in supermarkets. Instead, it shows up at specialty grocers or farmers markets. 

 

Kohlrabi, which ranges in color from pale green to purple, can be eaten raw or cooked, from its broad leaves to its hearty stems and bulbs. My Sicilian grandmother used the whole vegetable in soups and stews; she ate it frequently in Sicily.

 

Kohlrabi has been eaten in Italy since at least 1554, when Siena-born botanist Pietro Adrea Mattioli wrote that the vegetable had “come lately into Italy.” Not long after, kohlrabi spread to North Europe and was being grown in England, Germany, Austria, Italy, Spain, Tripoli, and parts of the eastern Mediterranean.

I recently stumbled on a blog post by Marisa Raniolo Wilkins of All Things Sicilian and More about the ways kohlrabi is eaten in Sicily. 

 

I reached out to Marisa, who is based in Australia, to learn more about her background and experience with this vegetable. She shared her reflections on kohlrabi’s significance in Sicilian cuisine and her favorite kohlrabi recipes. 

 

 

Where is your family from in Sicily, and how did you end up in Australia?

My Sicilian background is a blend of two Sicilian regions—Catania and Ragusa—and enriched my very different life in Trieste. My mother was born in Catania but moved to Trieste when she was just five years old. When she was fourteen, life for my mother changed when my grandfather died, prompting part of her family to return to Sicily, primarily to Augusta, while she chose to stay with her eldest brother and his wife in Trieste. One other brother also remained in Trieste.

 

My father met my mother while stationed in Trieste during World War II. They traveled briefly to Sicily, where they married in Catania before returning to Trieste. Although the war had ended, Trieste remained in political and military turmoil through what was, for all intents and purposes, a civil war. And during her pregnancy, my mother felt unsafe. So, in the last weeks of her pregnancy, my parents caught a train to Sicily, and I was born in my paternal grandparents’ home in Ragusa. A few weeks later, they caught the train home to Trieste, where I grew up, and remained until we came to Australia.

 

Our family was deeply connected to our Sicilian roots, spending summers in Sicily and welcoming relatives who visited us in Trieste. My maternal grandmother would stay with us for a month, filling our home with the scents and flavors of her Catanese cooking, especially seafood. My mother’s family has always been tied to the sea, whether in Catania, Trieste, or Augusta, and much of my culinary knowledge about fish comes from her family. My fondness for eating fish partly contributed to my book Sicilian Seafood Cooking (now out of print).

 

When I was eight, we sailed to Australia, driven by my father’s spirit of exploration. We went directly to Adelaide, which was chosen as a city reminiscent of Trieste’s size rather than a larger city like Sydney or Melbourne. Despite our new life, we continued to make regular trips back to Italy, both to Trieste and Sicily, further deepening my appreciation of my heritage. As an adult, I made regular trips to Italy and explored many other regions—and other countries.

 

I feel fortunate to have been exposed to regional Italian and Sicilian cuisines with all their variations. Traveling to different countries and living in Australia have exposed me to the wealth of multicultural cuisines that are evident in this country. My knowledge, experiences, and opportunities to make connections between cuisines have enriched my understanding and appreciation of Sicilian cooking and its flavors. Sicilian cuisine remains unique due to its historical influences, ingredients, and methods of cooking. 

 

What inspired you to write about kohlrabi’s role in Sicilian cuisine?

My inspiration to write about kohlrabi and its role in Sicilian cuisine stems from the memorable family tradition of cooking this vegetable in Ragusa, my father’s hometown. 

 

The significance of kohlrabi in his family went beyond cooking this vegetable. Kohlrabi was a centerpiece of family feasts that brought everyone together, including the buying of the vegetables, the preparation, and the sharing of the cooked meal with the family. 

 

Regarding the purchasing of the vegetable, my father’s two sisters (my two aunts) and one cousin who lived on different floors of the same building purchased their vegetables and fruit from a trusted local traveling ortalano (seller of fruit vegetables), who came around every morning—excluding Sunday—with his van. Each time I visited my Sicilian aunts in Ragusa, I had this unique experience where the squawk of the ortolano was heard from the street below their apartments, announcing his arrival. When it was in season, the leafy bunches of kohlrabi were such prized produce.

 

Out would come their purses and their baskets tied to the end of a rope, and they’d go to their balconies where they questioned the ortolano in detail about the quality of his produce. If satisfied, they lowered their baskets, which he filled. They hauled them back up, examined the contents, and only then, if convinced, lowered their basket once again with the money tucked inside it. Then, the aunties would make special requests for the next day, entreating him to visit them first so that they had the best produce. Sometimes, they traveled down to the van in their slippers and dressing gowns.

 

Then, there was the preparation of the kohlrabi. I have particularly fond memories of one of the Ragusa aunts, a remarkable cook who implemented the cooking and eating of this special dish. She is a champion pasta maker and ensured there was fresh pasta for family gatherings. The kohlrabi dish always featured a distinctive pasta known as causunnedda, the regional Sicilian name for this short pasta shape. The atmosphere of these family gatherings was gratifying. There was laughter, stories, fondness for the family, and the pleasures associated with sharing the meal and eating something delicious.

Kohlrabi are called cavoli in Sicily; in Italian, it is known as cavolo rapa. Cavolo is the generic term for some of the brassicas; for example, cavolo verza is a cabbage, cavolo nero is Tuscan cabbage, cavolo rosso is red cabbage, and in Italian, cavoli are cauliflowers. (Just to confuse things even further, Sicilians call cauliflowers broccoli.)

 
In the Ragusa family, they referred to the whole dish as causunnedda. I am assuming this was the abbreviation of causunnedda chi cavoli (Sicilian), causunnedda with kohlrabi.

 

How can one forget and not celebrate these memories?

 

The Ragusani are known for their straightforward, flavorful dishes, which focus on local produce, rich meats—especially pork—and seasonal vegetables. This emphasis on simplicity has profoundly shaped my understanding of cooking, showing me that the best meals often come from the freshest ingredients and heartfelt traditions.

 

Spending time with my father’s family, particularly with this aunt, has further deepened my passion for Sicilian cooking. She has been a treasure trove of knowledge, eager to share recipes and techniques, knowing how much I cherished my heritage. Through her stories and guidance, I’ve come to appreciate the intricate web of flavors, customs, and memories that define Sicilian cuisine—making kohlrabi not just a vegetable but a symbol of family connection and culinary history.

 

How significant is kohlrabi in Sicilian cuisine compared to other vegetables?

Kohlrabi’s significance in Sicilian cuisine may be modest compared to more popular common vegetables like tomatoes, peppers, eggplants, or green leafy vegetables (this includes wild greens). 

What is unique in the cooking of this vegetable is the emphasis placed on the kohlrabi leaves, often considered more valuable than the bulb itself. They are sold in bunches; the bulbs are smaller than I have found in Australia, and there are many leaves. There are purple-colored kohlrabi and light green. What I experienced in Ragusa were the light green ones, whereas in Syracuse, they were an attractive purple with some green. In Australia, at least in Melbourne, where I live, I have only seen green ones.

 

Purple kohlrabi. Photo by Marisa Raniolo Wilkins

 

How does kohlrabi use vary regionally?

While my mother’s side of the family excelled in their own culinary traditions, I didn’t encounter kohlrabi in her family. Instead, it was in Ragusa that I truly came to appreciate its significance.

In Sicily, as in other parts of Italy, kohlrabi is often simply boiled, drained, and then presented as a cooked salad, dressed with a generous drizzle of extra virgin olive oil, a sprinkle of salt, and either lemon juice or vinegar. This method, while straightforward, showcases the humble quality of the ingredients.  

In the fertile region of Acireale, just north of Catania and rich with the volcanic soil of Mount Etna, kohlrabi takes on a different role. Here, it’s not just a simple side dish but a flavorful dressing for pasta. The vegetables (bulb and leaves) are boiled and drained, and the cooking water is preserved to cook the pasta. The drained vegetables are sautéed in hot oil with garlic and chili that creates a vibrant dish that might also include a splash of tomato for added depth. I recently contacted my cousin in Augusta, just south of Catania, who said that she follows a similar method but enriches the depth of flavor with anchovies during the sautéing process, illustrating the creativity inherent in Sicilian cooking.

What sets Ragusa apart is how the Ragusani relatives have a distinct way of cooking it. They use homemade causunnedda, but they also add fresh pork rind to the water while cooking the kohlrabi, infusing it with the rich flavor of the homemade broth. 

The causunnedda is then cooked in this flavorful broth, which transforms it into something delicious, turning a humble vegetable into a celebration of local flavors and family heritage.

In my mother’s family, broth is typically made with chicken, veal, or beef—never fresh pork. This stark contrast highlights how regional traditions shape our understanding of food. These traditional methods and unique techniques not only enrich the dish, but also weave a narrative of family, community and culture. 

 

What is your favorite way to prepare and enjoy kohlrabi?

My favorite way to prepare and enjoy kohlrabi is a blend of tradition and creativity inspired by both my Sicilian roots and modern culinary trends. Here in Australia, kohlrabi has sparse green leaves, which is a departure from the leafy bunches I remember from Sicily. When I do come across kohlrabi with its leafy greens intact, it becomes a richer experience.

 

I treat the leaves much like I would cook cime di rapa or broccoli in a classic pasta dish with the greens and bulb sautéed with garlic and a little chili. Often, I have had to buy bunches of kale to increase the number of green leaves. Recently, my cousin in Augusta shared a brilliant tip of also adding anchovies while sautéing the vegetables. I do this often when I am preparing other vegetables, and it makes sense to do this with kohlrabi. I am looking forward to trying this.

 

Of course, I’ve also embraced contemporary ways of preparing kohlrabi, especially with exposure to how it is prepared in other countries. I like it in crisp salads or rich soups, showcasing its versatility. But there’s something profoundly satisfying about returning to those old Sicilian traditions, reminding me of family meals where ingredients and preparation were cherished. Each preparation tells a story—of the past, family, and the flavors that unite us across time and distance.

 

What do you hope readers will take away from your recipes?

What I hope readers will take away from my recipes is a rich tapestry of connection, nostalgia, and inspiration. For those who have traveled to Sicily, I would like them to remember their culinary adventures and the vibrancy and beauty of Sicily.

 

For readers unfamiliar with Sicilian cooking, I hope to introduce them to its unique flavors and traditions, exemplifying how it diverges from the more commonly known Italian cuisine and its regions.

 

Many of my readers are second-generation Sicilian Americans who cherish the recipes and stories that connect them to their heritage. I hope my recipes spark memories of family gatherings, the aromas in their grandparents’ kitchens, and the warmth of shared meals. Sharing these recipes would be very rewarding if they not only valued those memories, cooked those recipes, and also passed on the traditions to the next generation.

 

Cooking becomes more than just a task; it transforms into a celebration of culture and history. Therefore, most of all, I would like to inspire curiosity about Sicilian cuisine and to motivate them to explore its diverse ingredients and techniques. Cooking Sicilian recipes should increase understanding of the broader regional variations within the cuisine of Italy. 

 

>>Get Marisa’s wet pasta dish with kohlrabi recipe here!<<

 

 

 

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Everyday Italian: Domenica Marchetti’s Secrets to Simple, Delicious, Ingredient-Driven Cooking

Cooking Italian doesn’t have to be complicated. In fact, some of the best dishes are among the simplest, featuring fresh, seasonal ingredients and key pantry staples. Unlike certain cuisines with complex sauces and overwhelming techniques, Italian cuisine is just as approachable as delicious.

That idea inspired Domenica Marchetti‘s latest cookbook, Everyday Italian, her eighth book on Italian cooking. Domenica, who has a ninth book on the way, has Abruzzese roots and a home in Abruzzo. The region formerly known as Abruzzi just so happens to have been part of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies, so it’s no wonder many of our cooking traditions are shared. 

Domenica took time out of her busy schedule of writing, teaching, and leading culinary tours to chat with me about her influences, favorite techniques, must-have staples, and what she hopes readers will take away.

 

 

Tell us about your background.

I am based outside of Washington, D.C., in Northern Virginia. But we also have a little house in Abruzzo.

 

I grew up spending my summers in Italy on the Adriatic coast of Abruzzo. We had a beach house there for many years, and that’s really where my love for Italy just grew. I was spending all that time there.

My mom was from Chieti; her mother was from the city of Atri, which is also in Abruzzo. Her dad was actually from Perugia in Umbria. Her family stayed in Abruzzo. 

On my dad’s side, his parents came from Italy. His mother was from Isernia in the Molise region, which is attached to Abruzzo, and his dad was from Fondi in the Lazio region, which also includes Rome. But my main attachment is to Abruzzo because I spend a lot of time there. 

My mom was a wonderful cook. Like many Italians, she came to the U.S. in the 1950s. She was kind of in love with post-war America and ended up meeting my dad on a blind date in New York City and staying.

When she got married, she taught herself how to cook because she grew up in a family with a cook. So she didn’t need to learn anything when she was growing up, but she loved cooking and was a fantastic home cook. So she’s really my number-one kitchen muse.

 

How did you get into food writing?

My background is in journalism. I went to Columbia Journalism School and was a newspaper reporter before becoming a freelance writer. So, when my kids were little, I transitioned to freelance writing and reinvented myself as a food writer because that’s what I was interested in doing. 

I used my connections in newspapers and magazines to start freelancing. And then that eventually led to books and cooking classes and doing book tours. More recently, with COVID, I started teaching online. I also do occasional culinary tours in Italy, which I’ve been doing for about a decade.

 

You’ve been to Sicily. Describe your experience.

It’s been quite a few years, but I have been. We had family friends from Sicily who lived in Rome, but they also had places in Palermo and the coastal town of Mazara del Vallo.

It was before I was a full-time food writer. I remember walking through a citrus grove in this family’s yard and just being completely enchanted.

I grew up in central New Jersey, and we didn’t have those there. 

Of course, there are all the sweets and confections, the cannoli, the marzipan, the sweet ricotta, and the stuffed treats, and it’s just such an incredibly flavorful cuisine.

I also remember the first time I had pasta with eggplant, which was basically pasta with tomato sauce and fried eggplant on top. I can’t think of anything simpler, but it was absolutely delicious.

I was thinking about these assertive flavors in Sicilian cuisine: the fish, either dried or tinned or even fresh, the sardines, the anchovies, the swordfish, the tuna, and then the vegetables, the peppers, eggplant, zucchini, tomatoes, artichokes, winter squash. I mean, just all of the colors! 

One of my favorite cookbooks on the food of Sicily is this book by Anna Tasca Lanza, The Heart of Sicily. It came out in the early 1990s, and I was in Los Angeles, of all places. My husband and I were coming back from our honeymoon, and his mom lived in California. We were walking around L.A., and we happened upon this cookbook store. Anna Tasca Lanza was there signing copies of her book. This was before the cookbook craze, so nobody was there except those who worked in the bookstore. So we sat down, chatted with her, and bought this book.

Outside of my mom’s cooking, this book has been such an inspiration to me because it really did introduce me to Sicilian cuisine. In the introduction, she talks about the many cultures that passed through Sicily: the Greeks, the Romans, the Arabs, the Normans, the French, and the Spanish.

She said all those conquerors and the wayfarers made an imprint on Sicilian cuisine without altering its basic character. The main element of Sicilian cooking has always been the sun. And that is so true if you think of the way they sun-dry tomatoes, the way they make the tomato paste, estratto, by spreading it out under the sun, the way they sun-dry vegetables like eggplant and zucchini and then preserve them in oil. The sun just brings out the colors and the flavors of all these vegetables and foods. And I really think that quote encapsulates Sicilian cuisine beautifully.

 

You highlight some of those techniques inPreserving Italy.

My grandmother from Abruzzo used to sun-dry sour cherries so that she would do the same thing. She would dry them in the sun until they were half-dried, not completely shriveled. She would put them in jars with brandy and sugar. She would make these boozy preserved cherries. 

That really was the impetus for Preserving Italy because I wanted to recreate those sour cherries. In the introduction, I tell how when my sister and I were little after our grandmother passed away, there were still a few jars of those cherries in the pantry. My mom and her sisters—she had three sisters—were very, very parsimonious about doling out those cherries. And they made them last for years.

The only way we could ever get cherries was if we told them we had cramps. When we had cramps, we were allowed to have a little spoonful of these really alcoholic, boozy, sour cherries. And then they were gone. 

Years later, the more I started getting into Italian food, the more I thought about the foods I grew up with. So, I wanted to recreate those cherries. 

Living in northern Virginia, it’s very humid, so I can’t sun-dry anything without it turning into mold. So, I did a version of oven-drying the cherries and then giving them a long marinating in spiced, sweetened alcohol.

There are other things like candied citrus peel, which is one of my favorite things to make. I always make it for the holidays because it’s got so many uses. For one thing, it just makes your kitchen smell wonderful when you’re cooking down orange peel and then cooking it in syrup until it thickens and nicely coats the fruit. You let it dry, then roll it in sugar, and you’ve got this wonderful confection that you can dip in chocolate or mince and put into cakes and cookies or use as a garnish for cannoli.

 

All these wonderful traditions are preserved throughout Italy. I mean, Italy has so many foods that grow well, such as hazelnuts, pistachios, almonds, and vegetables. There are just countless ways of preserving them.

 

Abruzzo was part of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies, so there are likely shared food traditions.

I think that’s absolutely true. What’s interesting about Abruzzo is that it is central, but because it was part of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies, it is identified with the South, and a lot of its cuisine is associated with the South. 

I liken it to the Missouri of Italy. Missouri is kind of the gateway to the Midwest, but you think of it a little bit like the South. It’s kind of in the middle of the country, but it’s a little bit west if you think of Kansas City, Missouri. So it’s got all these different cultural influences.

I feel like Abruzzo is the same thing. But yes, because it was part of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies, I do believe it does have strong ties with southern Italy. So, some of the same foods are prepared in similar ways, like peppers. The cover recipe for Preserving Italy is peppers preserved in olive oil, which I absolutely love. They basically get a bath and sweet and sour vinegar brine with capers and garlic, and then you drain them after they’ve marinated a good long while in this sweet and sour brine, and then you top them off with olive oil and just pop them in the fridge. You don’t even have to can them. And they’re just such a wonderful thing to have around either to put on pizza or crostini or as a side to roast chicken. 

 

That’s a very Sicilian thing, actually, this idea of sweet and sour, they love their agrodolce. They do it with fish; they do it with vegetables. One of my favorite treatments for agrodolce is winter squash, the zucca agrodolce, which is a Sicilian dish. It’s thinly sliced pumpkin or winter squash, fried with olive oil, and then just sort of plunged into a sweet and sour vinegar dressing or brine and other vegetables. You can do that with eggplant with caponata, but I really love it with the winter squash.

 

My mom used to make that when I was growing up. It was a Sicilian dish, but she really liked it, so she used to make it, and that remains one of my favorite dishes. A couple of years ago, I ended up making a winter squash version of caponata instead of eggplant, but with the celery and the tomato, and it was so good. 

I really love the sweet-and-sour tradition of Sicilian cuisine. One of the things that Anna Tasca Lanza points out in her book is that the Arabs who came over introduced the planting of sugarcane to Sicily. Ever since then, Sicilians have had a sweet tooth. So they like the sweet and sour, and also all of the sweets and confections, too. I think they can thank history for their sweet tooth.

 

InEveryday Italian, you share must-have Italian staples. Which are specific to Sicilian cuisine?

When I think of Sicilian cuisine, the first thing that comes to mind is nuts. They have the wonderful Sicilian almonds from Noto. And if you’ve not tasted a Sicilian almond side by side with, say, a California almond, you might not even know there’s a difference. But there’s a real difference. If you taste a good Sicilian almond, you understand almond extract all of a sudden because some people don’t necessarily like almond extract; they find it bitter and strong in flavor. But if you taste a Sicilian almond, you will taste a tiny bit of that aroma from almond extract, and you understand what almond extract is. It really has that almond flavor. 

I occasionally splurge on Sicilian almonds. I buy them online. Last year, my daughter used Sicilian almonds to make these almond crescent cookies for Christmas. She’s not as big a fan of the almond flavor as I am, so she doesn’t ever use almond extract, but she used these Sicilian almonds.

 

We tasted the cookies fresh from the oven, and I asked, “Did you put almond extract in these?”

She said no. And it’s because she used these Sicilian almonds.

Pistachios, too. If you take the time to peel them, they have this incredible green color. And that rich, nutty, sweet pistachio flavor or pine nuts, which are very Sicilian and buttery. 

For other ingredients, I think of capers, capers and caper leaves, brined capers, and salted capers with those punchy flavors.

Then there are anchovies, bottarga (the dried tuna roe), and colatura (the liquid from preserving the anchovies). All of these really strong flavors contribute to the richness of Sicilian cuisine.

There’s vinegar, of course, and herbs. When I think of Sicilian cooking, I immediately think of mint. We were talking about winter squash and agrodolce; mint is the herb you sprinkle in that. 

 

What advice would you give to home cooks?

I would just say that it’s pretty easy. Italian food is all about ingredients. And I know people have said this before, but it’s not like trying to master fancy French sauces or overly manipulated food or trying to transform one thing into another. It’s really about giving ingredients the best expression you can give them so that their own flavors shine. 

I would say the most important thing is to choose good ingredients that are the best you can afford. It’s worth it because you really understand Italian cuisine. It doesn’t have to be overly complicated. 

I mentioned pasta with eggplant. It’s really just a simple tomato sauce made with either fresh or canned tomatoes, fried seasoned eggplant, and good-quality pasta. When you’re buying pasta, buy the best you can afford. The same goes for good olive oil.

Be open to different ingredients and flavors. You will be successful if you work with high-quality ingredients and have reliable recipes. 

For example, maybe you don’t know too much about artichokes and think it takes a lot of work to peel them. Once you’ve done it, it’s like anything. You just roll up your sleeves and do it, and it becomes easier. So, if you happen to find good whole artichokes in the market, don’t shy away from them. Buy them. Find either a video or a description. You’ll see that the more you do it, the better you get at it. It’s just a process, a learning process, and don’t be daunted because Italian cuisine and its essence really is simple.

 

>>Get your copy ofEveryday Italianhere!<<

 

 

 

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Zucca in Agrodolce: Make This with Your Jack-o-Lantern Leftovers

Stop. Before you toss those jack-o-lantern scraps, consider saving them for a classic Sicilian pumpkin recipe. Believed to have originated in Palermo’s popular Vucciria market, zucca in agrodolce (sweet and sour pumpkin) is a simple seasonal side dish that’s sure to impress your most discerning supper guests. 

Blogger Sarah Kearney of White Almond Sicily has a lovely rendition of this flavorful pumpkin recipe. 

We chatted about her connection to Sicily, what inspired this dish, how to select the perfect pumpkin, and excellent zucca in agrodolce pairings. 

 

 

Tell me about your background. What is your connection to Sicily?

My parents were English, and I was born in the UK and grew up in an area in South London where there were a lot of Italian families. I went to school with many Italian-descendant children, and their birthday parties and invitations to their homes were always so fascinating and fun. I just loved sitting around the big family table eating pizza, pasta, and gelato, receiving lots of Italian warmth and hospitality. As I grew up, I knew that I wanted to visit Italy. Whilst other children my age were filling scrapbooks with photos of their favorite pop stars, I would be dragging my parents to our local travel agent to pick up travel brochures so I could cut out the photos of Italy and create my own Italy travel brochure. 

In 2005, I read a travel article in a fashion magazine about Taormina in Sicily. With my love of all things Italian and my husband’s love of The Godfather movies, Sicily seemed like our kind of destination. So, after some research, I booked a weekend getaway to Taormina, and as soon as we saw the volcano Mount Etna from our airplane window, we knew we had already fallen in love with the island. Two years later, we bought our Sicilian home in Giardini Naxos, a seaside town nestled between the slopes of Etna, Taormina, and the Ionian Sea. 

 

How did your life change?

Coming from London, we are used to a fast-paced life, and over the past 17 years, we have learned to live life the way the Sicilians do. We learned to shop more locally at our local butchers, fish shops, and bakeries instead of using supermarkets and buying our fruit and vegetables from markets. Our taste buds changed with the fresh produce we were buying. 

We joined the evening passeggiata along our seafront with our dogs. In the beginning, we used to zoom along, overtaking the locals, but now we take our time like the Sicilians and maybe stop at a bar for an aperitif or coffee or sit on the seawall eating a gelato. A five-minute walk to the seafront can turn into an hour’s walk with locals stopping to talk to us. In Sicily, we have made more friends than we ever have in London, and we have been adopted by many Sicilian families, who see us as one of them now. 

 

What inspired you to share the recipe for Sicilian sweet and sour pumpkin?

In 2014, I started to write my blog, “White Almond Sicily,” and a friend from London came to stay with us. It was his first visit to the island, and we discussed how not many English people visit Sicily or know much about its beauty, food, and culture. Thereafter, I started writing about our new life in Sicily, the places we visited, and the people we met. I decided to also share recipes for popular Sicilian dishes that our new Sicilian friends had made for us. 

We now divide our time between London and Giardini Naxos, and my favorite seasons are spring and autumn when the island boasts an abundance of delicious fruit and vegetables. Autumn is a wonderful time of year to stay in Sicily with the grape harvest to make new wine, olives are harvested to make olive oil, trees are heavy with apples, prickly pears are in season, and there are food festivals that celebrate hazelnuts and walnuts. It is also the season for hearty meals like stews and risotto, with the most popular use being seasonal vegetables like pumpkins. 

You will see pumpkins at markets or on the roadside piled up by local farmers on their three-wheeled Ape vehicles, a bit like what you see with watermelons in summer. I love Halloween, so I always like to carve a pumpkin into a lantern, which gives me the perfect excuse to use the leftover flesh to make Sicilian sweet and sour pumpkin. 

 

Can you tell us more about the historical and cultural significance of this dish in Sicily?

Like a lot of vegetable dishes in Sicily, pumpkins were used in poor times to replace meat, and the pumpkin was used as an equivalent to liver. The dish is thought to have originated in Palermo in the famous Vucciria market. 

The rich aristocratic families would buy expensive liver, which would be fried and marinated in a sweet and sour way and then garnished with fresh mint. The poor could not afford the meat, so instead, they bought slices of pumpkin, which was cheap, and cooked it in the same way. 

The dish was known locally as o ficatu ri setti cannola (the liver of the seven taps), which refers to seven taps at the seven fountains located near the market where the street vendors selling the pumpkins would be daily. 

 

Do you have any personal stories associated with making or eating sweet and sour pumpkin?

We usually drive from London to Sicily with our dogs, and after three days of traveling, on our first day back home in our Sicilian house, our neighbors always visit bearing gifts, usually food. It is quite often that we will return home and have a delivery from what we call “the lemon fairy” and find a bag full of lemons hooked onto the door knob of our front door. Last year, a neighbor gave us a crate of persimmons, which I made into a delicious jam, and of course, he was given a jar, much to his delight. 

I can remember the father of one of our friends, who owns a big plot of land on Etna, arriving at our house with the biggest pumpkin I had ever seen. I could hardly carry it. Of course, I used it to carve a Halloween pumpkin and made a sweet and sour Pumpkin with the remains. There was so much that I was able to preserve it in empty jars to bring back home to London. 

I first tried this dish in a Sicilian restaurant in London, which was owned at the time by Enzo Oliveri, a well-known Sicilian chef from Palermo who now lives in the UK. It was Enzo who first told me how to make the dish in a similar way to another popular Sicilian dish, caponata. 

 

What tips do you have for selecting the best pumpkin for this recipe?

In Sicily, I always trust the vendor to choose the best pumpkin for me, but when in London, I always look for firm and smooth pumpkins that feel heavy for their size. Then, I know that there is plenty of flesh inside, and I avoid any pumpkins with cracks or bruises. We do not get pumpkins in London like those in Sicily; the ones in Sicily have a unique taste from being grown on fertile volcanic soil. 

 

How do you balance the sweet and sour flavors in this dish to achieve the perfect taste?

I use one tablespoon of sugar and two tablespoons of vinegar for the agrodolce (sweet and sour) taste. Sicilians tend to use white vinegar for this dish, but I like to use red wine vinegar. It gives the pumpkin a ruby-colored hue that makes the dish look a bit more exotic and gleam like Sicilian jewels. 

 

What other traditional Sicilian dishes would you suggest pairing with sweet and sour pumpkin?

In Sicily, this dish is usually regarded as a side dish or used as part of antipasti paired with other delicacies like caponata or melanzana parmigiana, together with local cured meats, cheeses, olives, and sun-dried tomatoes. As a side dish, we enjoy it with grilled meats or salsiccia, a Sicilian sausage made with coarsely chopped pork and usually containing fennel seeds. 

 

Can you share any common mistakes to avoid when preparing this dish?

It is all about getting the balance of the sweet and sour correct. Too much vinegar and the dish can become acidic. Too much sugar will make it hard to savor all the other flavors. Always leave the ingredients to mingle. You also need to add finely chopped fresh mint to garnish, as this brings out the flavors like a tastebud explosion in your mouth. Mint is a very typical ingredient in Sicilian cuisine from when the island was under Arab rule. 

 

What feedback have you received from readers who have tried this recipe?

This recipe is mostly viewed in autumn months, and most of my blog followers love that it is a lesser-known Sicilian dish to create and try. It is particularly great for children as all kids enjoy carving a Halloween pumpkin, so it is a great way to introduce this vegetable into their diet. 

 

What do you hope readers take away from your White Almond recipes?

My philosophy is to share the delights of Sicily through its culture and food using my own experience of living on and traveling around the island. I love that I can share recipes that I have learned locally with readers, who can then recreate dishes that they have tasted whilst in Sicily when they return to their own home kitchens. 

 

>>Get Sarah’szucca in agrodolcerecipe here!<<

 
Photo by Sarah Kearney

 

 

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Tetù: A Cookie for All Saints’ Day and Beyond

When I was growing up, holiday gatherings with my Sicilian family meant that everyone brought a favorite dish to add to supper. In addition to giardiniera, bean and tomato salad, and pasta, we could always expect trays of Italian cookies. A favorite was the tetú, a dense, chewy chocolate cookie with a light glaze. 

 

Traditionally served on All Saints’ Day in Sicily, these so-called “sweets of the dead” are a hit any time of the year. Our family includes them on Christmas cookie platters, and they frequently show up on Sicilian wedding cookie tables.

 

I was thrilled to find a recipe for this classic Italian cookie on Alexa Peduzzi’s Fooduzzi.com. Alexa’s recipe is inspired by her Nana’s. Her twist? They are plant-based. 

 

Alexa and I discussed her background and the significance of the tetú (or, as Alexa says, “to to”). 

 

 

Tell me about your background. Where is your family from?

We’re from all over the boot! One of my great-grandpas was from L’Aquila, my great-grandma was from Calabria, and I had some family up in Schignano on Lake Como. 

 

What does your heritage mean to you?

When I was a kid, I actually thought everyone was Italian because celebrating that part of my heritage happened all of the time and just seemed so normal and universal.

 

I’m really proud to be Italian, largely because we’re a big food family. So being Italian (to me and my family) means black olives on our fingers at dinnertime, homemade pasta swirled into savory sauces, and simple desserts like these to tos.

Walking into an Italian grocery store (like Penn Mac in the Strip District in Pittsburgh) is always the best sensory experience for me; the scent of cheese, olives, and oils smells like my childhood!

 

What are to tos, and how/when are they typically served?

At their core, to tos are chocolate cookies with a simple vanilla icing. They’re crisp on the outside and soft on the inside. I think there’s a similar version of these cookies floating around called “meatball cookies,” which is very accurate given their look before they’re iced.

I’m from Pittsburgh, and the “wedding cookie table” is a very important part of our culture here. So, I saw them a lot at weddings growing up. Now, we mostly have them at Christmas, and I look forward to them every single year.

 

What is the significance of this recipe for you?

These are, hands down, my favorite cookies. 

Yes, they’re delicious, but this recipe is one that I always consider “our family recipe.” I’ve never really seen to tos anywhere else, but I always look forward to them at family gatherings. 

To tos are a simple chocolate cookie, but they’re so much more than that. When I bite into them, I’m always taken back to the weddings I attended, the birthday get-togethers we had, and the visits with family that included these cookies.

They’re as much a memory as they are a recipe.

 

How is this recipe different from the traditional version?

My Nana’s version of this recipe is very similar to mine; mine uses vegan butter instead of regular butter. I tried to keep my version as close to the original as possible, considering the original has been my favorite treat for over 30 years! 

I’m not really sure that my Nana would have really understood my desire to make to tos plant-based, but making this recipe always makes me feel close to her, even with my tweaks. 

 

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

I hope they’re able to take one of my recipes and say, “Wow, this tastes great, and it’s plant-based,” rather than something like, “This tastes great for a plant-based recipe.” 

I’m plant-based because I love animals, and I figure if I can satisfy my body with foods that don’t require them, I should. 

I don’t believe that there’s one universal way of eating for every person, but I hope my recipes show people who are interested in plant-based options how simple, tasty, and uncomplicated they can be. 

 

What is your goal with Fooduzzi?

My goals have changed so much over the years! I started Fooduzzi almost 10 years ago, and when I first started, my goal was to take it full-time and work for myself.

That said, I soon realized that I’m a terrible boss for myself! So, it’s very much a hobby and a hub where I share the recipes that I love at the moment. I’m not actively creating new recipes; I’m now sharing more of the recipes I’ve started making and truly love.

 

 

 

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How Cucina Povera Shaped Carmela D’Amore’s Life and Identity

When speaking about Sicilian cuisine, one frequently encounters the phrase cucina povera. Beyond its literal “poor cuisine” translation, this concept speaks to working with what you have. You can also apply it to life, says award-winning author, podcaster, former executive chef, and ambassador to Milazzo, Sicily, Carmela D’Amore.

As a Sicilian Australian, Carmela grew up in Melbourne’s southeastern suburbs with a foot in two different cultures. It wasn’t easy. In Carmela’s Cucina Povera, she details her experience and her journey to finding herself through Sicilian cooking, along with a collection of 75 recipes.

 

I recently had the opportunity to meet with Carmela, who shared her background and connection to Sicily, the challenges she faced, and what cucina povera has meant to her.

 

 

What is your background?

I was born in Australia. My parents migrated to Australia just after World War II when there was the call.

My paternal side is from Falcone, about half an hour from where my mother lived, Milazzo, in the Messina Province. My husband is from Palermo, so I’ve got a taste of both East and West Sicily.

 

Why did your parents move to Australia?

It was just after World War II, so most Sicilian towns were very poor. They were bombed during the war. The economy was bad; they had no food, even though they were all fishermen or had other trades. 

My father came with five of his brothers and my grandparents. They were all fishermen. My grandfather was the president of the town’s fisheries and wildlife organization. But still, they couldn’t foresee a future, something for their children and grandchildren. And it was something that I think war does to you: You think, “How will we get through something like this as a family or as a community?” 

Australia was calling migrants, and there was work. One of my uncles was the first to test the waters, and he said, “There’s plenty of us to work all around, and we can make a future.” They weren’t thinking of staying for too long. 

Sicily is in us. Even though I wasn’t born there, I’m very much Sicilian. So, I can imagine what that felt like. Being in a place where you don’t know anybody, you don’t know the language, you don’t know the culture, and yet all you want to do is work. So, you really don’t know how you will face the challenges.

 

They worked and settled, and one of my uncles returned to live and stay in Sicily. The other four decided to stay. 

I’ve struggled myself to think, “Should I go back home and stay in Sicily?” When Sicily is somewhere in your DNA, I think you are always thinking, “Where do I settle?” 

 

What challenges did you face as a Sicilian Australian?

It was tough. It was probably one of the toughest times and a time of shaping and molding. There was already a culture in the southeast suburbs of Australia. So, any new people coming in weren’t easily accepted. You had to earn your way in. 

It was nothing like today, someone who doesn’t fit in, we call “unique,” whereas, in those days, you had to fit in with the crowd, or otherwise, you were out of it. So that causes a split in your personality, where you are one thing at home and one thing in another. I think many children today are finding that even in the cyber world that we live in, in social media, there is a need for acceptance.

 

What doescucina poveramean generally, and what does it mean to you?

Cucina povera is the staple diet, working with what you have and within the seasons where you live. Cucina povera has different shades in every region of Italy. In Sicily, we have nine provinces with nine different dialects. So, there are nine staple recipes. If you have, for example, a recipe that’s tomato-based with fennel, in a different province of Sicily, it could be with wild asparagus or with wild rappi, which are rapini greens, depending on which season. It’s all about preserving and utilizing your ingredients with the seasons. It’s making the best of seasonal ingredients and working with fewer ingredients. 

 

I called my book Carmela’s Cucina Povera because my identity is in cucina povera. It is in my DNA; it is who I am. I’ve been in hospitality for 50 years and an executive chef for over 45 years. I’ve just retired, but it still is in everything that I do.

 

People use all these different ingredients to make something delicious, but cooking is a way of expressing love. My grandparents, my mother, and all that generation never told us they loved us. They expressed it through food. Cucina povera came through them and gave me a sense of belonging, being, and knowing who I am. 

 

You’re a storyteller. Tell us about a classic Sicilian dish.

What I will share is a story that I think will resonate with many people. It starts in the 1800s when we had Queen Maria Carolina and King Ferdinando of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies.

Our queen had French chefs, so her French chefs went out and got a wild bird, called beccafico, in the region of Palermo. You can imagine all these French chefs and the contadini, the farmers that are coming in, and the women that are helping them. They’re cooking and stuffing the beccafico, and they put the tail up. (The beccafico looks a bit like a robin, so it’s got a beautiful tail.)

They cooked it with all the spices: saffron, lemon, and bay leaves. Then, they gave it to the queen. 

The contadini went out and talked to one another. They could not eat that because those wild birds cost a lot of money. But they did have an abundance of sardines coming from the Tyrrhenian Sea. So they decided to make a replica and create it with sardines. Today, sarde a beccafico is world-renowned.

In my mother’s town, they make it with anchovies because they don’t have the sardines. When Mum made the dish, she would tell me the story of how her grandmother and her grandmother’s grandmother made it. Those stories become part of your life.

 

How do you hope your book and cooking will impact others?

I hope my book inspires many people. I’m 65, and I overcame these challenges 55 years ago. So, it’s about the resilience of the human spirit.

 

If you really want to change and get better in anything you do, you can always do better. The sun always shines in life. There are always storms and difficulties, but you can realize that you can grow from them. Instead of being a victim, say, “How can I learn from this? What can I learn from this? How can I shape myself and be a better person from this?” 

This is what I found while writing this book. It was to help people if they’ve had challenges and maybe through the cracks of the pages and the recipes to find more love and concentrate on the love, not the challenges. Because we all go through challenges. We never stop going through challenges in life, but it’s where we decide to focus ourselves on what’s important.

I’m sure everyone has recipes from their grandmothers. Take them, put them together, and make a little book. You don’t have to publish it, but you can create something for other generations to find. I’m sure that in generations to come, someone in the family will say, “I wonder where that recipe comes from.” 

We live in a world that is becoming very isolated. I don’t come from that world. I come from a world where family and community are the essence of our lives. So, writing this book was important to me because I wanted to embalm the recipes, the people, and the sacrifices they made for their families. It was to honor them because who will remember them if I’m not to talk about them?  

 

>>GetCarmela’s Cucina Poverahere!<<

 

 

 

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Meet the Mother-Daughter Duo Behind Pina’s Kitchen, a Viral Sicilian Cooking Sensation

Pina and Rosemarie Sparacio showed up to our interview wearing red—like mother, like daughter. In their case, it’s more like being a part of the same winning team. Since September 2021, the New York-based duo has amassed millions of views on TikTok. They also have more than 242,000 followers on Instagram and have a new and growing YouTube channel. 

“The most surprising thing has been walking in the street and someone stopping their car and saying, ‘Oh my God! You’re Pina’s Kitchen!’” laughs filmmaker and content producer Rosemarie. 

“I feel so privileged, so honored to be recognized by them,” says her mother, Pina, who came to the United States from Roccamena, Sicily, in 1970.  

The thrill ride started with a few simple, raw videos Rosemarie filmed of Pina cooking her favorite Sicilian specialties. And it just took off.

The three of us sat down to discuss more about how Pina’s Kitchen got started, their favorite recipes, surprises, and their next steps.

 

Tell us more about how Pina’s Kitchen began.

Rosemarie: I’m a filmmaker, so I’m always filming or wanting to come up with something to film or a story. I had this idea of a cooking show for a long time with my mom, but it was always too big in my head to put together. I was being very perfectionistic about it, so I forgot about it. And then, when COVID hit, I was just dancing on TikTok like everybody else was and having fun. I garnered a little bit of a following. 

I wasn’t serious. I was working in film production. Then, one weekend, my mom was cooking something: caponata, a Sicilian dish. I was like, “I’m just going to record it for fun on TikTok.” I didn’t really think much of it. The way I recorded it was not very cinematically, just in the moment. And I posted a month later. It got 100,000 views. I was like, “That’s something! Let’s try it again. Maybe sometimes on TikTok, you get one hit, and then that’s it.”

So we tried it again, and the second video was a dish in the oven: baked ziti. It got 500,000 views. I said, “Welcome to Pina’s Kitchen!” And that was the start of it. 

Then we did a third video—polpette di ricotta.

Pina: It’s a very old recipe. When people in Sicily had no money to buy meat and make their Sunday dinner, they would come up with different ideas for something to serve with the sauce. So, if it was spring and a lot of people made ricotta, they’d make something with that ricotta. They used to make it in my town. It’s got a lot of mint and sugar, plus breadcrumbs.

Rosemarie: You could imagine the controversy when she was throwing sugar into this ricotta thing, putting it in the sauce, and eating it with pasta. It got a million views, which was kind of its takeoff. And we just kept going with it. 

 

You draw your recipes from your family. Can you share any fond cooking memories?

Pina: My earliest memory is watching my mother cook.  My mother was a great cook. She had a knack for cooking; it tasted good, even if it was simple. 

I remember her making sausage and drying it for the winter, and I remember watching her making bread. 

When I was little in Sicily, my mother had a brick oven, and she would make a big batch of bread because bread was everything in those days. That was how you supported yourself: with bread, pasta, and vegetables. She would make all these breads, and then, in the end, she would always make pizza—not the American pizza you see: the sfincione on which my mother would put the tomatoes, sardines, cheese, and breadcrumbs on top. 

She would start in the morning; by the time she finished, it was night, and that would be what we had for dinner. I was very little because I could hardly reach the big table that she was working on. 

I also remember my grandma. She and my mother would sometimes bake a very big batch of bread together. Or she would get together with her sisters, and they’d make it together. They always did things together—even in America. They were very close. 

 

Pina and her mother in the kitchen

Did you two cook together?

Rosemarie: When I was younger, my mom worked, and my grandmother lived downstairs. I would go downstairs and stay all day with her, and she would make the pizza, cookies for Christmas, and rice balls. I was next to her, and I would kind of just watch, and I would try to help, too.

I know how to make homemade pasta, and I know how to make all the big stuff. I’ve observed a lot, but I feel like I’ve been surrounded by Italian women who can handle the kitchen. And they’re like, “But you’re busy!”

Pina: The short answer is yes, we cook together. When I broke my arm, she did Christmas by herself. Her father helped cut stuff, but she cooked. And I was telling her, “Okay, do this, and don’t forget to do this.” And she cooked the whole meal.

 

Rosemarie and her grandmother

What impact has filming your mother had on you?

Rosemarie: I used to take for granted how good a cook she was and how good my homemade meals were. I didn’t realize how good they were until I started filming her, observing, watching, and paying attention. And then that caused me to be like, “I should be learning this.” 

I realized she learned from my grandmother, and there’s so much already lost and so much we’re trying to hold onto. Now I’m like, “Okay, let me jump in and help you so I can learn.”

Pina: Yeah, because my mother never really wrote anything down.

Rosemarie: So it’s really all that she remembers from her mother and mother’s mother. And there’s already so much lost in that word-of-mouth.

 

Pina, which of your mother’s dishes have you shared on social media?

Pina: My mother used to make stuffed artichokes, and we had a lot of views on that video. She used to make it plain, and sometimes, she would put them in the sauce. That was Sunday dinner. This comes from the old days when we didn’t have any meat, so they had to come up with stuff.

You stuff the artichoke and dip it in the egg, fry that part so the stuffing doesn’t come out, and then put it in the sauce. The sauce takes on the flavor of the artichoke, and it’s so good!

We just made eggplant rollatini, according to her recipe. Here, they stuff them with ricotta. My mother used to stuff them with cheeses, cured meat, or whatever we had on hand. She would stuff them, roll them in the sauce, and bake them.

 

When I think of my grandmother, the famous ones are the fig cookies—cuccidati—for Christmas. We film that every year because it’s such an important recipe. Many people don’t even do it anymore because it’s a lot of work.

 

I remember her every December making Christmas cookies, and everyone was helping. She’d probably make 10 pounds. 

Rosemarie: We have made 15 pounds of Christmas cookies all by hand, from the mixing and rolling to the cutting and filling.

Pina: It’s a lot of work! That’s why you only do it once a year.

 

What’s been most exciting or rewarding so far on this journey?

Rosemarie: Probably the level of recognition when we go to events with the community of other food influencers that we’ve connected with. They’ve been so great. And then there are people who are fans, which is so weird to say that there are fans. I am still shocked!

We’re technically filming just cooking videos, but it’s more than that. People write us the most beautiful messages, like, “I lost my mom when I was 13 years old, and I remember she used to do all these things, and Pina’s like my mom now.” 

They also remember recipes that they forgot about and that their grandmother used to make, but now she’s no longer alive. And they say, “Wow, I’ve been looking for this recipe for 20 years!” It makes you realize that food and recipes are a connection to history, family, and culture that can be easily lost. Recipes are stories. That’s probably been the most rewarding. 

Pina: You can give that kind of memory back to somebody. At first, I was nervous because nobody really wants to be judged by people. I asked, “Why will people be interested in my recipes and what I cook?” But then, when people started to really be very positive and loving it and saying how much they appreciate it, I felt that I was giving them something, which made me feel good.

 

We’re doing it because now we like the community that we have. We have all those people that are following us. They’re good people, and I just love it. It’s making friends. 

 

What are your plans for Pina’s Kitchen’s future?

Rosemarie: I hope that we can grow a bigger following. We’re starting this YouTube channel, and I want to create a longer format show where we could really show the recipe so it feels more real, like you’re stepping into the kitchen with us. Because you only get a minute and 30 seconds on Instagram versus a 20- or 30-minute YouTube video where you feel like you’re in the kitchen and cooking with us. And then, hopefully, we can kind of expand to having different guests and having people showcase their recipes and share something with other influencers or maybe just other people in our lives who show what their family used to do—even past being Italian. 

I love promoting Sicilian and Italian culture, but I think what’s more important is telling the story of immigrants and showcasing everyone’s culture because we’re all connected in that way, and recipes are very connected. Even Sicilian food is very connected to the Middle East, Greece, and Spain. So having it expanded past just Sicilian cuisine would be cool, too. 

We’re slowly working on a cookbook, and it would be great to build the brand and reach more people that way.

 

Rosemarie, you’ve worked on music videos. Tell us about that.

Rosemarie: So, I started in film production, and I was on this track to be like, “Okay, I want to make connections. I want to be a director. I need to be in the industry.” I focused on making a documentary and growing our page. Then, I stepped away from the industry completely, and I was just in social media, working for social media marketing and working on Pina’s Kitchen. I started to feel kind of low, like, “I don’t know. Maybe I’m making the wrong choice. I’m out of the industry. I’m not working on films anymore or big shows, and I’m losing those connections. Maybe it’s not the right choice.”

Then I got this random message from Tina Baione, who owns Keep Good Company Records with her husband, Matt. She was like, “We have this artist. We want to make this music video in Italy. I want you to direct it. We’ll fly you out to Italy.” 

From there, I’m now working on another music video, directing that music video. 

It’s not the same as it used to be. Social media is the new push forward that creatives need to get their work out there. 

 

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

Pina: For me, it would be positivity; they could connect with their memories and families. Maybe their loved ones have passed, but they can reconnect with them spiritually. That’s a beautiful thing to do. And I want people to realize we’re just normal people.

Rosemarie: I think that it’s kind of like a call to action. I want people to honestly get back into the kitchen with their grandmother, grandfather, mother, father, or whoever it is. Because, like I said, there are so many stories and recipes, and you don’t realize how fast time goes, and you could easily lose the things that keep you connected to your heritage, culture, and family. 

I think people won’t regret getting into the kitchen with their loved ones and learning those family recipes. It’s just a good time to spend with your family. So I hope it inspires people to be closer to their family and to sit down for dinner together.

Pina: You’re going to build so many memories just being together, sitting around the table, even if you don’t say anything, and if you just eat. It’s that energy of togetherness and love that vibrates around the table from your family. That is memory. It’s important. 

 

 

 

 

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25-Minute Marinara Brings Homemade Flavor Without the Hassle

Growing up, we never had jarred pasta. My mother was known for her sauce, something she’d mastered by watching her mother and grandmother. In less than half an hour, she’d whip up a simple marinara that was rich in flavor, thanks to a couple of cloves of garlic, a bay leaf, a pinch of nutmeg, and another pinch of sugar. She’s always maintained that one doesn’t need to sweat over the stove for hours. 

 

Jersey Girl Cooks blogger Lisa Grant agrees. Her “25-Minute Easy Marinara Sauce” doesn’t require fancy ingredients or cooking techniques. She simply sautées garlic in olive oil before pouring in a large can of crushed tomatoes, a few herbs and spices, and a pinch of sugar. 

Lisa shared her background, her childhood association with tomato sauce, her favorite way to enhance marinara sauce flavor, why making your own pasta sauce is better, and her favorite ways to enjoy red sauces.

 

 

What is your background as a cook?

I am a home cook and have loved cooking since I was 10 years old. I became a blogger over 15 years ago and have since written two beginner cookbooks: The Super Easy Cookbook for Beginners and The 5-Ingredient Dutch Oven Cookbook. I love helping people cook easy meals!

 

Do you have Italian family?

My dad was from an island in Croatia (Susak) that once belonged to Italy, so the cooking is very Italian-influenced. On my mom’s side, some of the family was from northern Italy, including Trieste. 

 

What memories do you associate with tomato sauce?

We typically had Sunday dinner, which included a huge bowl of pasta with “gravy.” This was a red sauce with various meats in it. 

 

Can you share any tips for enhancing the flavor of the sauce?

I love using fresh-grown New Jersey crushed tomatoes that I keep in my freezer, but I don’t have them all year round, so a good brand of crushed tomatoes works well, especially during the winter months. 

 

Why should you make your own instead of buying a jar?

It is so much better, and you can regulate the salt and spices. 

 

How do you use this marinara sauce?

I love this sauce with any type of pasta, but it is also terrific as a dipping sauce for recipes like oven-fried zucchini. 

 

What do you hope people take away from your recipes?

You can cook good food at home without stress. I love socializing at the dinner table!

 

>>Get Lisa’s 25-minute Easy Marinara Sauce recipe here!<<

 

 

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Bay Leaves: Essential or Overrated?

My Sicilian grandmother always tossed a bay leaf or two into her tomato sauce, and my mother does as well. But lately, I’ve found myself forgetting to add the bay leaf and wondering what purpose it really serves. 

So, I was intrigued to find an article in the International Journal of Gastronomy and Food Science that addressed this very question. 

I reached out to its author, Charles Spence, an experimental psychology professor at Oxford University and the author of Gastrophysics: The New Science of Eating, to discuss bay leaves, why they spark such debate, and how his own bay leaf use has changed since his research.

 

  

Why did you choose to research bay leaves?

It was initially a debate with my brother, who’s a chef in Oxford, about what they do or what they add. I’ve got other papers on cinnamon and coriander. So, I am interested in the historical introduction and disappearance of different herbs and spices around the world over the decades, centuries, and millennia. What, exactly, are they doing in our food? 

I’ve got a verdant bay tree just outside the window here, so I’ve got thousands of bay leaves, but for others, they can be extra expensive to purchase. My brother is convinced bay leaves add something, and I am, too. I always stick them in whatever I’m cooking. But what, exactly, does it add? 

It’s a curious question. It got me searching through the literature, and that brought up the fact that many chefs and others have a big debate about whether bay leaves have a taste/flavor or not. It’s interesting to have an ingredient that could be reasonably expensive and for which lots of people don’t know why they’re using it. 

 

Tell us about the work you do.

As a psychologist, I’ve always been interested in the senses and how they interact with and apply to the real world. For the first 15 years, I mostly worked on technology, talking window screens, mobile phones, car warning signals, and that kind of stuff. Then, Unilever funded me to help with their fruit teas. I’d never done anything on flavor at all, but they were paying the bill, so I said, “Okay, I’ll do some experiments on that.”

Suddenly, it got interesting. Flavors are probably the most multisensory thing we experience. They engage all our senses, but flavor is something that psychologists typically don’t study. 

Here in Oxford, we’d do experiments on how the senses contribute to flavor and how we can make things sweeter by coloring them pink or red or adding certain scents. But my experience was that the food company chefs could never make anything very exciting from the science.

Then, I was introduced to the world’s top chef, Heston Blumenthal, and suddenly started doing experiments around the “sounds of the sea,” which thereafter led to one of his most famous dishes. Diners wear headphones, and they hear the sounds of the sea while they eat sashimi plated to look like the seashore.

That got me more work in food, working with chefs, mixologists, and baristas rather than food companies. These latter creatives turned out to be very interested in trying to apply science and psychology to food as a multisensory object, always doing so in ways that ask how people today perceive these things and what they mean. 

Over the years, I’ve had a few interdisciplinary grants with anthropologists, historians, art historians, philosophers, and a wide range of disciplines. And I guess through some of those workshops, which have been on other things like what aesthetics is, I keep coming up against the anthropologists who say, “You psychologists. When you try to understand sensation or flavor, you don’t seem to understand the importance of culture and history.”

I’ve come around to starting to be interested not just in how we perceive things but also in how we have perceived things in the past. Tracing the history of herbs, spices, and fruits allows me to do so. 

Maybe bay is not an expensive or luxurious spice in the same way that saffron is. It’s a ubiquitous spice or herb in this part of the world. I’m curious about the history of flavor and psychological history, which lets me better understand how we perceive from a broader social, historical, and cultural perspective. 

 

What have you found interesting about the bay leaf?

Bay is the only herb I have encountered so far where some people say it tastes like nothing and don’t know why they use it. That doesn’t happen anywhere else, and this debate has even made it into the culinary and trade press; there’s this debate going on about what bay is doing.

It could be that a third of people are unable to smell one of the chemical compounds, or it could be that it doesn’t really have a perceptible flavor. It just does something to the flavor of everything else. It’s like a flavor enhancer. I’m interested in other things like kokumi, the next thing after umami, or monosodium glutamate (MSG). Kokumi has no taste when you add it to food. But when it’s added to things that have umami (e.g., mushrooms and Parmesan), it amplifies the other taste sensations. 

Maybe bay leaves are doing that. So, is this difference genetic in what we can smell? Some people can, some can’t. What the bay leaf does for everything else is interesting. 

Maybe some people who say it doesn’t do anything are focusing on what it smells like itself. They think it doesn’t smell like anything; therefore, they think it does nothing. Others say, “I always add it to my cooking because of the end result and total flavor.” 

It may also depend on where you get your bay from, what part of the season it was grown in, whether it’s California Bay or Laurel, how it’s been stored, and whether it’s been frozen, dried, or fresh.

What’s also interesting about bay to me is the question of whether dry or fresh leaves are better. For most things, you think fresh is better than dried. And yet various people say, “No, dried bay is better than fresh.”

So, which is right? How do you answer that when the thing itself doesn’t taste very good? 

I’ve been going to my tree here, picking them, and putting them in boiling water for a while, which, again, may not be the right thing to do. Maybe it needs fat to release all of what it can contribute to a dish.

I also have been putting them in a cup of bay leaf tea and then trying to almost do the blind taste test on myself with a cup of hot water that has bay leaves steeped in it and another one that’s just hot water. Can I discriminate?  I haven’t done the official taste test because it’s a bit too messy and time-consuming. But yeah, there is something there, a curious sensation.

 

How did your bay leaf use change as you were researching the topic?

Well, I never had bay leaf tea before, and then, through the research, I now think differently about picking them. Before, I just picked them whenever the bowl of dried ones ran out, and now I think there’s no point in doing that just yet; I should wait till the end of the year.

I switch between the dried and the fresh, trying to decide which is better. Before writing the article, I probably would’ve only used the dried ones. But now I’m thinking back and forth. They say it makes a difference.  

 

What do you hope people will take away from your bay leaf research?

My hope is that people will come away thinking, “Well, yeah, now that you mention it, I do wonder why I do that. Why do we add our herbs and spices to our food?”

I think there’s a whole world that’s not really been studied much. A few food historians are doing research on spices, but not anything from the psychology or sensory angle. Growing awareness and appreciation, perhaps particularly in the case of herbs, might be advantageous moving forward. These sorts of herbs can have interesting effects on taste and flavor and also maybe interesting impacts on our ability to absorb other nutrients.

Although I’m not sure bay necessarily serves that function, it is undoubtedly a culinary curiosity that I think gets people interested and thinking this is much more fascinating.  

 

 

 

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Sicilian Wedding Lab: Crafting Unforgettable Sicilian Destination Weddings

Ksenia Molostvova lives between two churches, where she sees plenty of weddings each month. However, the founder of Sicilian Wedding Lab doesn’t typically plan Sicilian weddings for Sicilians. Instead, she caters to those individuals who might have a connection with Sicily, whether it’s through heritage or simply because the island is a favorite destination.

 

“The world is discovering Sicily,” she says. “People always want to search for authentic destinations. And Sicily can offer a lot.”

Ksenia shared more about her Palermo-based business and background, the differences between Sicilian weddings and Sicilian destination weddings, the most popular wedding destination, her favorite wedding sites, and her wedding planning goal.  

 

What’s your background?

I’m from Moscow, and I’ve been living in Italy since I started coming here in 2006 because I was responsible for Italy as a journalist. I met my future husband, and we started dating, flying back and forth for six years. And then, I moved to Sicily in 2012. In a couple of years, I left my news department and stopped working for Russian TV channels. But I still create documentaries for different European YouTube channels. So I’ve continued this work as a producer, but I also started doing weddings in 2015, so now I can say I’ve become a “wedding producer!”  

 

How did you get started?

First, I had friends say, “Organize our wedding in Sicily.” I said, “I’m not a wedding planner. I’m a producer.” They said, “Well, if you are a producer, you can do anything.”

So I did one wedding, a second, and a third. I was focused more on small weddings, up to 50 people. And then, at some point in 2021, there was a royal wedding in Sicily, and it came to me in a strange way. I knew the man who was organizing this wedding. The bride was the daughter of an earl from Scotland, and the groom was the Spanish prince, the direct descendant of the last Bourbon King of Sicily. And this man I knew asked me to be an interpreter here. So, we started doing this wedding together. I was just his local assistant. But then, he had to quit the planning at some point due to health issues, and I was left alone with this wedding. And it wasn’t just a normal wedding, it was a Royal Wedding!  I had a chance to say no to that. But then, after some reflection, I said, “Well, if it came to me for some reason, I have to go forward.”

I formed my team. We did bring it to life. It was extremely challenging, but it worked. At that point, I understood that I may have to fully dedicate my time to weddings. 

 

 

Describe the differences between your weddings and typical Sicilian weddings.

I have to bring to life some ideas that are not real. A normal Sicilian wedding doesn’t look like a Sicilian wedding for American or Australian clients. It could have more traditional elements than the modern Sicilian wedding; for example, the modern Sicilian wedding wouldn’t have a folk band, some really Sicilian elements, or Sicilian food.

Food is extremely important for Sicilian weddings, but it must be something particular, not just simple traditional recipes. For example, you wouldn’t serve the simple caponata at a Sicilian wedding. Whereas Americans look for traditional Sicilian recipes and venues like Tonnara di Scopello, an old tuna fishery. It’s just like a shed where you keep boats and fishing nets. But the place itself is spectacular. And it has become really popular and expensive just because of foreign weddings.

Local Sicilians would never, ever, ever go to a place like that for a wedding. They need a palace, something chic, some really fancy-looking venue. They don’t see the beauty in some rustic place.

 

What goes into one of your weddings?

We work with many local artisans who make handmade ceramics for guest favors and local bands that perform and feel that people seek them out. There is plenty of stuff that you can give to your guests, like local honey, jams, or other typical local products or objects. 

 

What services do you offer to wedding couples?

Each couple is different, so I’m against packages. I offer a full planning service because it’s important to me. A destination wedding is about the destination. So it’s not just about the couple and the family.

 

Normally, it’s at least a two- or a three-day wedding because most couples and their parents come here for a long period. We organize a lot of experiences before and after the wedding. It can be a beach day, a wine tasting, or a pizza party. It can be a tour of some beautiful place like an archeological site. It’s always about an experience because showing a destination is important. So, everything that Sicily can offer, including beaches, wine, and nice food. It’s a holiday, and it’s also a holiday that will never ever be repeated in their life because all their friends come here. This is something I like to focus on all the time. It’s not just the wedding, it’s the experience.

 

What are the most popular Sicilian wedding destinations?

Taormina is probably one of the most popular destinations because it has been a tourist destination for a long time. When tourism began to develop in Sicily in the 19th century, Taormina had hotels and infrastructure, and it was easy to reach.

 

Maybe the couples Google “Weddings in Sicily,” and Taormina is what they see at the top of the search. Personally, I do think Taormina is a beautiful place, but logistically, it’s quite complicated to have an event there.

 

On top of the town, the mountain is all pedestrian. It’s really complicated with the delivery of all the stuff, the transportation—well, everything. And Taormina is not really a beach destination. Many people get confused because they see that Taormina is on the coastline. You do have beaches there, but, at the same time, if you are staying on the beach, you are not staying in the town. So, you have to take a taxi, which takes time and is expensive. And the other way around, if you’re staying in the town, you are not staying at the beach. Also, Taormina is close to Mount Etna, so the beaches have gray sands or pebbles, and the sun hides behind the mountains, so you cannot enjoy long sunsets on the beach.

 

What is your favorite Sicilian wedding destination?

Scopello is really picturesque. And the coastline from Castellammare del Golfo to San Vito lo Capo and until Trapani is probably the most beautiful.

 

The Province of Trapani boasts white, sandy beaches and beautiful rocks. The color of the water there is turquoise, and the sunsets are really stunning! This part of Sicily is still quite authentic, as mass tourism has never reached it, which is why I love it so much.

 

What is your goal for weddings you plan in Sicily?

The goal, obviously, is to satisfy, to find out what each couple wants and their values, why they chose a destination wedding, and why they chose Sicily. So, what would they like to find in Sicily, and what would they want to share with their guests about Sicily?

 

In September, I had a wedding for a Canadian couple with Italian origins, not Sicilian. They spent two weeks here, traveling all over the island with all their friends. I was so pleased to get their review and see how much they enjoyed the time they spent here. They had so many activities in these two weeks. So, I think that the goal was reached. It wasn’t about the wedding, but it was about the experience. 

 

 

 

  

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Breaking Boundaries: How Trinacria Theatre Company Transforms Sicilian Community Spaces

Driven to rejuvenate Pezzolo, the Sicilian community her parents once called home, Mariagrazia LaFauci founded Trinacria Theatre Company in 2016. While the company’s shape has changed, its focus on community building, placemaking, and intercultural exchange has remained in a way that defies convention. 

Unlike most theater companies, Trinacria doesn’t perform in theaters. Instead, they’ve been known to take over piazzas, terraces, and even soccer fields to perform pieces rooted in tradition as well as original productions. 

I had the opportunity to speak with Mariagrazia, who also serves as Trinacria Theatre Company’s artistic director, to learn more about its important work and what she hopes audiences will take away. 

 

 

What inspired the creation of the Trinacria Theatre Company?

In the summers, I spent most of my life going back and forth to Pezzolo because my family lived there. 

Around the time I was getting ready to graduate college, I started thinking about doing a project to help the village. Sicily has gone through a real diaspora, with many people leaving and many businesses going under. 

In 2008, the year I graduated high school and went to college, the last bar in Pezzolo slowly shut down, and life screeched to a halt. Nobody had a place to meet up. That kind of really important cultural community space was just gone. I saw the population plummet after that. 

Then, there was a really massive storm here in 2009 that really impacted people, and actually, quite a few people died in Giampilieri Superiore, which is the next town over, and a lot of homes were destroyed. 

All of that together was just terrible and devastating. When I graduated from college, I started looking for opportunities to do a fellowship or something that would let me give back to this community. In 2016, I started the theater company here in Pezzolo to do that. 

 

How did the company evolve over the years?

It’s gone through many different iterations. In 2016, it started out with just an all-volunteer cast out of Boston and New York City. I held auditions in both places and found this group of actors. We were like, “Okay, let’s go do this. Let’s spend four weeks in Sicily and create a piece of theater about it.”

It was such a beautiful piece, called La Storia di Colapesce, based on a local myth that’s really closely connected to Messina. We toured it around Sicily and brought it back to the U.S., where we did it in Boston and New York. 

Then there was a year gap because I went and did my master’s during that year. But when we came back, I was sort of like, “That was beautiful, but how do we expand beyond just dropping a bunch of people here, doing a show all on our own, performing it, and then leaving? How do we make this a community event and space?”

So, we started to play around with this festival format, where we did workshops and storytelling circles. We put on an exhibit by a local artist, created pieces, and featured these local theater companies. Then it was like, “Oh, there’s something here.”

 

Since then, there’s been more of a festival format to it all. And so it’s gone through different iterations. Sometimes, we do create shows; sometimes, we don’t create shows. This year was an open residency, which we’ve done twice now, where we just look for artists, they apply, and then we bring them in for residency. They get to kind of use the time and the space to create on their own independently, and then they share that in the festival afterward.  

 

Tell us where you perform.

We don’t use traditional theater spaces at all. We use piazzas, streets, and abandoned spaces wherever we can find them. This year, we held events on a terrace and a soccer field. 

I love theaters. I genuinely love them and will always love sitting in a seat, the lights going dark, and all the bells and whistles that come with it. But I think that space can be intimidating for people sometimes if it’s not the kind of space you regularly engage with. Sometimes, it can feel a little bit like you’re going into the temple or church of a religion you don’t belong to, and you’re kind of like, “When do I sit? When do I stand? What are the rules? What do I say?” And that feels intimidating for people. 

We take it from that context and just plunk it into, “This is your piazza. If you’re going to answer a phone call, your kid’s going to run across the piazza, or you’re talking in the corner, we can’t stop you, but we will also put on a show for you. So, if you also want to sit and watch that, great.” It’s a very different vibe.

 

How does that unconventional style translate to your performances?

Necessity is the mother of invention. We’ve got no stage, we’ve got no lights, we’ve got no speakers, we’ve got nothing. How are we going to put on the most incredible show possible? So, you take a show like Colapesce, which will take place 80% underwater and also in a volcano, and all of these things that are completely impossible to stage. How are you going to do that with absolutely zero lights, sound, set, or props to indicate we’re underwater? It was like, “Cool. We have our bodies and voices. We have some music that we can make using these three instruments that we brought. Let’s do it. What are a million different ways that you can make someone look like they’re swimming when they’re not really swimming?” And so that was how our first piece was made. It’s very physical, it’s very playful, it’s very silly at times. 

 

How does communal living during the residency foster creativity?

The artists who come here always live together in a shared house, sometimes even shared rooms, depending on the number of people and what they’ve agreed to. 

For me, it’s two things. One is Italian households. They’re intergenerational. There are often a lot of family members. I’ve got my aunt, who lives five minutes down the road, and I’m probably at her house eating dinner two to three times a week. Communal meal times are so important; that family connection is so important. It’s part of Italian culture. It would be weird if we didn’t all eat together as a company. I always make sure you’re living together or sharing meals together. And then, often, what comes out of that is people who find these points of connection. 

One of the other things I do as part of the residency is each artist leads a morning warmup. They get a chance to present their practice in some way. And the people who come here are some visual artists, some of them are writers, and some of them are theater majors. They all go at it from such different angles, but they get this morning of “Hey, you’re going to engage with my creative practice today, and that’s going to set you up for whatever it is that you’re going to do for the rest of the day, or how you’re thinking.”

So, these really wonderful synergies come out of that often where somebody says, “What you did today really resonated with me. I didn’t realize that you did that. I want that in my piece. Can you help me? Can we collaborate on this?”

These cool little collaborations naturally and organically emerge, or people just bring wild talents, and suddenly, you figure out that this person can play a kazoo in this piece. 

 

What impact did the pandemic have on the company?

It was tough. We had decided to do the open residency for the first time that year. We’d chosen four really incredible artists, but obviously, they couldn’t come to Sicily that year. 

What was really miraculous was they all waited the two years that it took for us to finally be able to travel again. And so they came in 2022, which was amazing.

It was a tough year. I had been living in London up until that year. In February, I found out that we’d gotten an Arts Council England grant to do a research and development period on a show we’d been creating called the Hades & Persephone Project.

We’d gotten this amazing grant, and I had these incredible actors ready to do it. Then, the pandemic shut the whole thing down. So, I got to go back to London in 2021, and we were able to use those grant funds to do the project.

One of the really cool things that happened during the pandemic was we created an audiobook. We took the Colapesce story we created in 2016 and turned it into an audio story. We had music, and we did all the sound effects.

During the pandemic, many people said, “Oh, Shakespeare wrote King Lear during a pandemic.” But I had this feeling: We have to take care of ourselves first. We can’t just be creative when things are hard just because we’ve suddenly got time and space to do it. So, it was also important to put the brakes on and make sure that everybody was taken care of first and foremost. 

 

How has your work bridged cultural gaps?

One of the things I am most excited about is seeing some of the folks here who really want to get involved. For example, there’s this wonderful young woman who doesn’t live in Pezzolo, but her grandfather, Stephano, does. Her name is Giada. Giada speaks beautiful English. She’s going to go to school for translation. 

She’s 18 years old but is so put together, articulate, and smart. She has come in and done translations, gotten involved with the performances, and taken on many directing roles over the years. It’s been cool to see her develop this way. 

Her grandfather, Stefano, was an incredible artist. He works with wood. He used to work a lot with steel, but he’ll find beautiful pieces of twisted olive wood, and they’ll turn into an octopus lamp or something incredible like that. A lot of people in Pezzolo didn’t know that he had this incredible museum of his work in his house. And so he started featuring his stuff and putting it out there during the festival.

The two of them are a really great example for me. Every year, somebody has this incredible connection with Stefano, where they wind up at his house every day working in his shop, having coffee with him, helping with a piece, and putting his stuff on display. It’s this wonderful interaction. 

I feel like these micro-interactions happen all over the village when we’re doing this residency.  

 

How else have you involved the community in your shows?

Whatever we do has to involve the community in some way. And so when I’m looking for artists, I’m looking for artists who have some sort of a community focus to their work. I tell them that it can be part of the process, especially for the open residency where they’re creating their own pieces. It could be part of the final piece of what you perform, but in some way, you have to engage with this community and have them be a part of what you’re doing, which isn’t always easy. Sometimes, people just want to sit back and be audience members. 

So it’s about finding people like Giada and Stefano who really want to be up on the stage, in the audience, and in the crowds. Finding ways for people who don’t often go to museums or theaters to feel like they can engage is such an interesting artistic challenge.

Sometimes, it can be a really low-stakes engagement. Instead of sitting back, you’ll be walking around and following the narrator. Last year, the piece that we built went through the whole village. It took you through a tunnel, and there were calls and responses to it and things like that. Some of those can be really low-stakes ways to engage, and some can be really high-engagement. 

We had this one incredible artist, Heloise Wilson, who is just so phenomenal. She did this whole storytelling workshop. With the stories told through that workshop, she created these beautiful little posters that were put up around town with snippets of the stories, photos, and images. Then, she created a chorale piece that members of the community performed. She crafted this beautiful Greek chorale poem using their words, and they performed it as part of the festival. They did an amazing job, and she guided and facilitated that.

 

Your pieces tap into folklore and mythology. Tell us about a particularly inspiring one.

My brain immediately goes to the story of Mata & Grifone, the last full theater piece we created last year. We created this piece based on the Hades & Persephone Project. The story of Hades and Persephone is the most well-known outside of Sicily, but here in Messina, Mata and Grifone is the best known.

It’s the story of these two giants. Mata is a Sicilian princess, and she’s white. Grifone is a Moorish conqueror, and he’s black. This is set during the time when Sicily was an Arab Emirate and had been conquered by North African Islamic conquerors. And so the two of them see one another and fall in love. Her father objects, and he locks her away in a tower.

Her father would only accept it if Grifone converted to Christianity, which he did for them to be married. And so the two of them become the rulers of Messina.

They’re now the pagan deities of Messina.  Every summer during Ferragosto, these massive paper mâché statues of these two giants parade through the streets.

They’re known as the ancestors of all Messina people because we’re all said to have descended from them. They had so many kids together. I love this story so much, first of all, because it’s the story of this interracial couple on an island where I think xenophobia and racism are quite present today.

Also, Sicily itself has an incredible multicultural background. It was Arab for 200 years. It’s been Spanish, French, Greek, and everything in between. There are so many cultures. It’s a continent and island, and that’s where we come from.

At a time where now we’re facing these really harsh lines drawn, politically, especially for people who are refugees or who are emigrating from the African continent into Europe through Sicily. Seeing the really beautiful presence of these two lovers, who are the ancestors of all Sicilians, reminds us that this is where we all come from. 

There’s a harshness to it, a difficulty to it. Grifone had to give up a part of his cultural identity and religion to be with this person. So it’s complex, it’s nuanced, and it’s celebrated throughout Messina.  

 

How do you ensure your productions remain authentic and respectful to other cultures?

It’s always about talking to people authentically and respectfully. If it’s always rooted in a truly excellent intention, “I believe that your story is worth telling, and it’s worth telling with honesty, respect, and integrity.”

You’re always approaching it with that lens. I’m part of this group called ITDS (Indie Theatres Dismantling Supremacy). We’re this cohort of artistic directors of small independent theaters that came together in 2020 to talk about how our organizations exist in a world where there’s white supremacy, and there’s oppression. There are all of these systematic things that we all have to deal with, and we all have to consider how they show up in the worlds where we’re working. 

Something about showing care and kindness to the people you’re around is so simple. When you take that care and kindness and implement it into the systems you’re building—because we’re all building systems—to function or survive and be sustainable, we have to systematize certain things. But when that kindness and that care are embedded in you, it’s a part of what you do. 

I think we’ve never approached it without the angle of, “We do this because we love these people, and we’re going to listen to these people and listen to these stories, and we want to involve you and not force you into being involved if that’s not what you want.” We always bring it back to kindness, which has been a much more powerful driver than I think I would’ve ever thought it was.

 

What do you hope audiences take away?

There are different parts of an audience. There’s the local audience, the Pezzolo people. And I think what I really want them to leave with is, “I live in a place that is capable of producing great art and great beauty.”

Every day can be activated, brought to life, and turned into something beautiful if you just apply a creative lens to it. And the place where I live is capable of being that spark and being activated into that beauty. 

 

 

 

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