The Cabinet of Curiosities | Issue 10
Of shipwrecks that brought to gastronomic inventions; an undiscovered sweet tradition and all the pasta stops along the Via degli Dei.
Welcome back to The Cabinet of Curiosities my fellow food lovers! To refresh your memory, cabinets of curiosities, or wunderkammers, were small collections of extraordinary objects created during the Renaissance. This is our very own Cabinet of Curiosities, dedicated to all the wonders and peculiarities of Italian food culture.
In this monthly newsletter, you can expect to find 3 pieces by alternating La Panza Piena contributors. Voices and people that you’ll meet gradually, through their narrations, stories on forgotten recipes, hidden gems, deep-dives into unique products and distinctive global perspectives on Italian food culture.
I’ve said this before but I truly mean it: editing The Cabinet of Curiosities is one of the coolest parts of my week as I end up learning so much from each contributor. For example, thanks to Flora’s beautifully penned piece on an Italian Captain’s shipwreck in Norway in 1431 I discovered the origin of baccalà mantecato, one of the greatest recipes of Italy’s gastronomic heritage. Same goes for Caterina’s piece on nevole, a traditional dessert from Abruzzo I had never heard about, whose production is kept alive by the inhabitants of a seaside town. An element of sustainable travel features in this month’s issue thanks to Wanda and the 130km she walked from Bologna to Florence - along the Via degli Dei - in search of fresh air and a dozen pasta varieties. Enjoy the read!
- Carlotta, founder of La Panza Piena
A shipwreck, a recipe and a tradition
By Flora Igoe: Graciously greedy - Irish born, Italy based - human, with a knack for discovering good food.
The story begins in 1431 with a shipwreck off the Lofoten Island of Røst, Western Norway. The islands are characterized by their salted cod, hanging on rows of wooden racks which dot the landscape. The so-called stockfish, or stockfisk by locals, is created by leaving unsalted cod to the elements, to harden and sway for months before being preserved and stiff as a post.
Arriving on the Island in 1431, Captain Querini and his sailors, the 10 survivors, regained their strength after weeks of floating. The crew learnt how a buttery concoction of herbs could soften and bring Røst’s hardened cod back to life. So impressed was Captain Querini, that on his return to Venice he brought with him 60 dried stockfish, which ultimately led to Italy being the largest consumers of codfish after Norway to this day.
The real proof in the pudding is Venice’s baccalà mantecato. Baccalà takes the Portuguese derivative of bacalhau, likely coming from the Latin baculus or bastum, meaning staff or sticks, and mantecato in Italian meaning creamed. It stands out brilliantly against a plate of other, generally more colorful, cicchetti - Venetian-style tapas, you could say, that are typically served in traditional bàcari. The stockfish is softened in water for 2 to 3 days after which the filet is deboned and cooked with a prepared soffritto, adding milk, Parmigiano and an ample amount of olive oil. The result is a creamy light spread with a delicate taste of cod. I recommend you go to my favorite bàcari, Cantine del Vino già Schiavi or Osteria Al Squero and order a glass of Soave, a few cicchetti of baccalà mantecato and whatever other morsel tickles your fancy!
I bet you’ve never heard of this dolce
By Caterina di Luzio: Passionate about literature and osteria, takes aperitivo very seriously.
There is a good chance you’ve never heard of nevole.
In my hometown - Ortona, on Abruzzo’s coast - no Sunday lunch is celebrated without these cone-shaped, waffle-like sweets, whose origin dates back to the 16th century.
The beloved cialde, whose name originates from the Latin nebula, flatbread, only requires a handful of plant-based ingredients: olive oil, flour, anise, cinnamon, orange zest and cooked must. The recipe requires hands ready to stand the high temperatures of the ingredients: the must - obtained from Pergolone or Montepulciano grapes - is boiled with olive oil and then poured, still bubbling hot, over the flour.
Next, the minced anise, cinnamon and orange zest are combined. After thoroughly kneading the dough, it is divided into small nuggets. As the dough is being prepared, the cast iron utensil that is used to cook and shape the nevole - which consists of two flat, round plates - is heated over a fire.
Once the ferro is piping hot, a nugget of dough is placed between the two plates and cooks from the residual heat. Next, a touch of magic is involved: the waffles are dropped onto a wooden board where they bulge, thanks to the heat and the dough no longer being pressed between the cast iron plates. The bulge allows the waffle to be opened in two, and the two parts to roll onto themselves and form the characteristic cone shape. Once cooled, the nevole are slightly crunchy and intensely aromatic, to be enjoyed plain or filled with custard cream.
This frugal and peculiar dolce’s popularity has never strayed far from its city of origin, yet remains incredibly memorable to anyone who comes across it.
Meet me along the Via degli Dei | Part 1
by Wanda Frosi: cheese lover (even better with a glass of wine) & gelato enthusiast
Last Spring I embarked on a journey that connects two cities with a deep culinary tradition: Bologna and Florence. Through the ever-changing landscape of the Appennino Tosco-Emiliano, I’ll guide you along the 130 kilometers of the Via degli Dei, which awarded me with incredible panoramas, a lot of fatigue and great culinary discoveries that morphed with every step.
My six day journey began in Bologna, and having left the pastel coloured porticos behind me I climbed up until Monte Adone - worth it for the incredible view - and stopped for the night at Agriturismo Piccola Raieda.
The greatest element of a long walking adventure is the family atmosphere and conviviality you find in every locanda or agriturismo you pause in. Few things connect strangers more than being tired and glass after glass of red wine in a cozy atmosphere, forming friendships in every stop along the route. As we chatted away with fellow hikers, the host placed bruschette with fresh tomatoes and smoking hot plates of Gramigna al ragù on the table for us.
Gramigna is a traditional pasta shape from Emilia whose semicircular silhouette recalls a short and curled bucatino. Its name and form originates from a tiny seed of the homonymous wheat variety that is historically cultivated across the region. Gramigna finds its greatest expression with two versions of sausage-based sauce: in bianco or rosso. The former is made with butter, salsiccia and a hefty amount of grated Parmigiano, whereas the latter abides to a more traditional ragù recipe. It’s safe to say that after hiking for 26 kilometers, it seemed like the best pasta dish of my life.
The following day we hiked further across the Appennino and arrived in the late afternoon to Madonna dei Fornelli, a small town on the border with Tuscany. With limited choice of dining options, we sat at Ristorante Poli, which seemed to be the meeting point for all wayfarers. The kind staff recognized our struggle in choosing what to eat and recommended we taste the tris di pasta fresca: a plate heaped with tagliatelle al ragù, cappellacci filled with mushrooms and tortelli with butter and sage. As we finished every last speck of sauce by doing la scarpetta, we mutually agreed that Ristorante Poli was a mandatory stop along the route – and that the journey was quickly becoming a celebration of central Italy’s pasta heritage.
Thank you for reading this month’s Cabinet of Curiosities! Don’t forget to check out our map which features all the yummy spots we talk about on the newsletter.