Cabbage, churches and a castle
It Became ‘Our’ Town
20th September: MIGLIONICO
We had already discovered Miglionico, a pretty, historical hilltop town with a large and important 11thc castle (called Malconsiglio, because of bad advice, leading to extremely bloody disputes between the king and his barons – a Basilicatan King John?)
It is also famous for its main (Mother) church, Santa Maria Maggiore, which is about as old. It has a Romanesque bell tower and famous polyptrych – an eighteen-panel masterpiece, painted in 1499.
It also had one of the most moving crucifixes I have ever seen; very old and executed in painted wood, it can be seen near the main door. Adjoining it is the convent of San Francesco, back of the main piazza, where the men regularly gather in the late afternoon, soon to be joined by their women and children on the regular evening ‘promenade’ through the streets, a charming practice of the entire region. High up facing the piazza in a niche was an exquisite Pieta.
Another church is Santa Maria delle Grazie; very tiny, hidden in a back street. It is also very old, and simple, both inside and out – except for the glorious, delicate frescoes around the altar, especially that showing the nativity. They were painted by Giovanni Antonio Bazzi – known as ‘Sodoma’.
WE ARE A STAR ACT – USING LOCAL SHOPS
We regularly shopped in Miglionico for our food, (We prefer using local shops rather than spending our money in large supermarkets; invariably the food is fresher and in Italy, we found, cheaper. Doing this has extended our knowledge.) It also gives great amusement to the local housewives. We will never forget the first time we walked into the ‘frutti’ (greengrocers) where we suddenly became a comic turn and before long, the star attraction. All business stopped while we were served. The waiting ladies would have a great laugh at our struggles with Italian, and a fun time was had by all.
We always emerged with several bulging bags of fruit and veg for about 6 euros. If I could still just taste those grapes! Everything was local and organic and fresh, fresh, fresh (except for bananas). The proprietress would never let us select our own veg and fruit but chose it for us, stuffing great quantities into a carrier bag or even two. Her customers, grinning broadly, were quite happy to wait their turn.
Graham spread his custom amongst three butchers. One sold his own tender and tasty reared beef and veal – and whole legs of lamb (never knew what happened to the other bits). His rivals had a bigger selection; both were charming, but the rivals charged more. We would also be treated to a friendly greeting from the grocer running the mini-supermarket: All of which got us feeling like regular visitors (even friends?) of the little town.
On Lolly’s first day we took her for that nostalgic experience, and also stopped for coffee in a small local bar. Lolly was a bit disconcerted to find it patronised only by men; we later found a place where women could enjoy coffee and chat in mixed company.
GRAHAM IS BEFRIENDED.
We were struggling to find out about the local wines in the big 2 litre plastic containers (costing about €4) when a local gentleman who introduced himself as Vincenzo helped us. He spoke perfect English, having spent some years as a waiter in a posh London hotel.
Vincenzo took us on a tour of the town, including a walk right round the extensive castle walls. We old girls were both exhausted by the heat and hung behind, so missed his telling of all the historical details, but I Googled them later.
It’s All About The Meat!
We also that evening had an amazing meal behind a macelleria (butcher’s shop). The butcher, as fat as Falstaff and as jolly, brought out dish after dish on plastic plates. Thin slices of almost-white cheese came first; small rounds, so I guess they were taken from one of those little cheeses that look like balloons or lamps; very special to this area and made from sheep’s milk. Small dishes of finely cut red, yellow and green capsicums from his own garden followed, simmered in olive oil, and would you believe – thin slices of raw pumpkin, which to our surprise tasted tender, sweet and delicious! Then that crusty bread they have, toasted and drenched in olive oil and sprinkled with fresh herbs – also delicious!
But eating at Peppino’s was all about the meat, which came in generous portions, wafting rich smells, and cooked superbly. Graham chose veal, which was so tender he could cut it with his fork. I was brave and chose horse; I think Peppino thought that because I am Inglese he had to cook it ‘well done’. I intended to go back and ask for it ‘bleu’; more tender and juicy that way. We were surprised when he appeared with a large plate of little pork twists to share – utterly tasty and soft. When asked, he said they came from the back of the neck.
Peppino’s food is rated on Trip Advisor as No.1 in his town; all 5-star reviews except one, which bellyached about plastic plates and tablecloths – but it’s all about the food, which tasted divine – and the whole meal, which included wine and bottled water, cost 15 euros each.
‘Evoluzione Della Brace, Miglionico The Evolution Of The Brasserie, Miglionico.
We made friends with the other customers – six adults who were staying for the hunting (deer, boar and wolf, and numerous birds of prey, including vultures and eagles). They took us with them to finish off our meal in a smart Pasticceria, where we had Kaffé and little cakes. Nowhere like Italy for fresh coffee! Men, women and children would all come in, to stand and drink at the counter or sit at one of the two small tables with three chairs apiece. We bought a cake each to consume there and came away with a box of a dozen assorted from the vast display.
The man called Lucio also invited us to stay with him for a few nights. He is a retired banker, from Milano. He now lives close to Lecce, one of the foremost artistic towns in South Italy. He does ‘B&B for friends’. (This is why Graham and I just love Italians – as open and hospitable as the Americans of New Orleans. They told Graham that we are not like other Inglese; news I shall convey with great glee to our families, as we two have always been the ‘bit weird ones’ with our own folks.) Funny – we have made so many friends abroad – Lolly and her family and friends in USA; now three B&B hosts and a winegrower in France, Vjekoslav in Croatia, and so far three families in Italy – one of which, as you will learn, has become very special to us – oh, and the hotelier in Crete who plied us with Metaxa and invited us to a party, where he demonstrated to all present how he made Raki. And all because I recognised a photo of his grandfather as being an ‘Andarte’ – a mountain guerrilla fighter in WW2. )
WE FEEL NEGLECTFUL.
We felt ‘at home’ in Miglionico; consequently we rather neglected our ‘hometown’ of Grottole.
We made an initial attempt to explore Grottole castle and ruined basilica that together made an unmistakable silhouette right at the top of the conical volcanic ‘plug’, recognisable from miles around in the land below. This excursion was thwarted in the main, certainly for me, because there was nowhere close enough to park, although I did take a quick glimpse into the tiny church further down. It was extremely old and very plain, but local ladies were dressing the life-size saint or Virgin Mary in real clothes, of a richness they most likely could not afford for themselves. (We saw many such ‘clothed’ saints in the area.)
Mostly we tended to drive through Grottole rather than using local shops in the town, although there was an attractive, very clean and bright mini-market. This was a pity, because the proprietress was very friendly and helpful, and her English was perfect, unlike the struggles on both sides to get understood in Miglionico. The thing was – that seemed to be the ONLY food shop in Grottole, apart from one butcher with no parking space that we could see. Mainly, I think, we were finding it such fun to shop in the old way, almost entirely lost back home; going from shop to shop, engaging in banter made even more enjoyable by language stumbles, which led to mutual laughter. It was an excursion we always looked forward to.
Text by – Jackie Usher, SWWJ. (aka author Debbie Darkin, & ‘Graham Liverpool’ on Trip Advisor.)
Photographs by – Graham Usher.
