I’m from a small
village called Platì in
Calabria, on the slopes
of the Aspromonte
mountains. Platì has a
population of about- They keep things simple: there’s
one road in, one road out, and a small
bar in the main piazza where all the
men gather after lunch and discuss
life, sport and women.
My relatives who have remained
in the village are farmers and either
grow or hunt. They rarely go to the
supermarket. They rear their own pigs
and cows, make cheese, cure meats,
make wine and olive oil from their
groves. Our meals together are a
celebration of their hard work and
this close connection with the land.
You must eat ’nduja when you
visit Calabria, our traditional and
very distinctive spreadable chilli
sausage. Chilli is prevalent in
Calabrian dishes, being our native
ingredient. Some say it matches our
fiery and passionate personalities.
We’re also fond of a cheese
native to our region known as
caciocavallo. It’s a salty, semi-hard
cheese, which, where I’m from, is
made from a mixture of cow’s and
goat’s milk, and aged for 18 weeks.
It’s in the same vein as pecorino, but
each region in Calabria has its own
version. That’s the beauty of Italian
food: we all think we do it better
than the next village or region.
Calabria isn’t as commercialised as
some regions, and its cuisine is on the
way up. What makes it special is
the combination of the mountains and
the sea. Recipes use local ingredients
such as eggplant, peppers, fava beans
with swordfish, and simplicity is key.
As we all know, however, the more
simple it is, the easier it is to
get wrong.
While it’s not Calabrian, in
Sydney you can always get a great
home-style dish at Quattro Passi in
Darlinghurst. Da Noi in South Yarra,
Melbourne, specialises in Sardinian
cuisine, which in most parts shares
the same philosophy as Calabrian
food. Ask for extra chilli on the side
and you can turn anything Calabrese.
I’m from Napoli in Campania.
Whenever I go back I always stay on
the seaside and around Lungomare
di Napoli, either at Eurostars Hotel
Excelsior or at the Grand Hotel
Vesuvio. Both are great bases for
waking up to Vesuvius. That view
still takes my breath away.
Everything seems to be within
50 kilometres of my town. The
two main things I eat when I’m in
Campania are mozzarella with tomato
and basil and the famous spaghetti
alle vongole, a dish that is a true
reflection of how the region works.
The spaghetti is from Gragnano,
surrounded by hills on the Amalfi
Coast. The air comes from the sea
and dries the pasta to perfection.
The tomatoes, grown on the foothills
of Vesuvius, are ripened by dry sunand volcanic soil; the vongole are from
Sorrento. The biggest difference from
Australian vongole is that the vongole
from Sorrento have a much thinner
shell. Italy’s buffalo mozzarella,
meanwhile, doesn’t ever see the
inside of a fridge and is never more
than three days old. You can eat
these dishes anywhere in Napoli.
I’ve not had a bad one.
Along with the food, what I miss
most about home is being able to
walk down the street at 11 o’clock
at night and find a restaurant open
that isn’t fast food. You could sit
down to a three-course meal if you
wanted to.
Don’t be scared by the amount of
people on the road or the fact that
their hands seem permanently glued
to the horn. Welcome to Italy.The last time
I was in Napoli,
my hometown,
was two years
ago. Campania
is a region with
a rich cultural fabric of Spanish,
French, Turkish and Italian
influences. And it’s the home
of mozzarella di bufala.
When you drive from the north
of Italy and cross over the border
into the region, the first thing you
notice is the caseificio: the roadside
shops that make and sell fresh
mozzarella and scamorza affumicata
every morning. You must stop and
buy the still-warm fresh mozzarella
and eat it by the roadside with all
the milk running down your cheeks.
Napoli is also famous for the
morning ritual of eating baba and
sfogliatella. The best I’ve found are at
Scognamiglio or Mary in the Galleria
Umberto shopping centre.Napoli is chaotic and full of
energy. The first place I go is a little
restaurant called Il Grottino in
Pomigliano d’Arco. Nino, the chef
and owner, is a long-time family
friend famous for cooking the best
fish over open charcoal. He’s almost
70 now, but still mans the stoves, and
every day he drives two hours to
Formia to get fish. A couple of his
specialties are raw tartufi di mare, large
clams, and gamberi rossi alla griglia,
grilled red prawns. His risotto with
squid ink, al nero di seppia, and salad
of baby fish are also phenomenal,
and his wife, Rosaria, makes the best
pizza chiena in Napoli.
Two of the most important things
in Neapolitan culture are food and
family. The people in Naples don’t
need an excuse to celebrate – every
day is Christmas or Easter; every day
is a good day to stay together, with
family or friends, and to eat good
food and drink good wine. ➤Tony Percuoco, chef, Tartufo, BrisbanePasquale Trimboli, chef-owner, Italian & Sons, Bacaro, Mezzalira and Da Rosario, CanberraFederica Andrisani, chef and co-owner, Fico, HobartCalabria
Campania
GOURMET TRAVELLER 89INTERVIEWS MAGGIE SCARDIFIELD. PHOTOGRAPHY STOCKSY