Lindsay Marie Morris

While pyrotechnics may have Chinese roots, the colorful fireworks we have today came from Italy. Starting in the 1830s, Italians combined metals and explosives to develop vibrant sky spectacles. That led to the birth of Italian family fireworks businesses, such as Zambelli and Fireworks by Grucci, America's largest and oldest pyrotechnics-production companies.

 

Arkansas resident Andrew D'Acquisto, who has family in Porticello, Sicily, has worked with fireworks for about 40 years. We sat down to chat about how the pyrotechnician got started and what happens behind the scenes during your typical fireworks show. 

 

  

How did you get started with fireworks?

I was interested in working with them and just didn't know how to get a job in particular. And so I asked people who I saw. People I asked had gotten started through their family or friends of their family. I started going to the fireworks convention and asking people, and it was the same; they'd either been through this family or knew someone next door that the family knew. 

Then I got a copy of American Fireworks News, a newsletter about fireworks in particular, and they had ads and people buying and selling stuff in the back pages. There was an ad from the Grucci family looking for some help, which was surprising. A well-known name. It would be like if you were a guitar player and saw Bob Dylan advertising for "Extra Musician" or something. But they had gotten a contract one year and had a lot of little shows to do. So they were hiring extra people. At that time, I was in Arizona and drove up to see them in the springtime. They had a training session and a little show we did at a church for practicing, followed by some classes.

They started calling me, maybe once or twice a year, on the 4th of July. Sometimes, they started on New Year's. The first job I did was in Florence, Alabama. 

But then I did a job down in Little Rock. It was near Memorial Day, and it happened to be their grandfather's 80th birthday, so a lot of the family came down for that. We had a cake and a small get-together after the show. 

 

I just started working for them, and I've traveled to different parts of the country and world with them, including Dubai and Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, a couple of times. 

 

What have you learned about Italian fireworks?

What you see normally are shells that are more round, which shoot out the mortars. Italian fireworks are long and layered. They call them salamis. Each section will go off, and then the bottom shot will go off. It's just a different style of making, hand-wrapping, and putting them together. 

What goes on behind the scenes for a fireworks show?

The main thing is driving there because they're strict; you must have a commercial driver's license for whatever size truck you have. But then, when hauling the load of fireworks, the truck needs to have special placards on it, and then it needs to stop and get weighed and inspected.

We'll get to wherever we're going, and the first thing we'll do is unload most of the truck that's set up. There are racks of mortars, which are the pipes or tubes that shoot the fireworks out.

 

You unload those and then nail any racks together, set them up, and put legs on them to make sure they're at the right angle, going up and down, so they're not going to fall over and go towards an audience. So they're going to the sky. 

 

Most jobs are electrical now. So first, you'd set up all the motors and then unload the individual boxes, and they're choreographed. We'd have a diagram of where we'd unload the boxes or troughs, put them where they needed to go, and load the shells into the mortars. 

We attach a wire from each fuse with the leader, which would set it off because it is set off electronically. Those get wired into smaller boards, and the smaller boards get hooked into the cables. Then, the cables, depending on the size of the show, all get hooked into a box, and they're selected at the proper cue time. So the wires would run the distance to that main control box and then be wired into the proper sequence or the order they're supposed to go off. 

Now, a lot of fireworks are set off and choreographed to music, so that number one will set off one or two or three that are supposed to go off at that time in time with the music. There are different tracks, but we lay those down and connect them all. That may take a day or two or even weeks for extra world-size performance, and then we run a test on everything to make sure everything was hooked up properly, that there are no missed cues, and that they're ready to go when we start the display.

That would often be tied to a computer or someone with headphones, so it would be a matter of laying everything out and connecting it. 

It's a long time for, say, a half-hour show. It might take two or three days to set everything up like that, depending on the size. Now, some shows are set up on barges, so you'd have to load everything from the truck onto the barge and set that up the same way. Then, you have to set up communications, which include headphones or walkie-talkies, to keep in touch with everyone. And then get their orders to shoot in sequence.

So basically, we just set up the mortar stands, load them, and then ensure the igniters are hanging out. Then, we wire them to where they go to the control box, lay out all the cables, and connect all the cables.  

 

How have fireworks shows changed?

Years ago, it used to be all hand-loaded. The first job I did was by hand. I worked with an older gentleman, and he was hard to keep up with!

Can you speak to the Italian tradition of fireworks?

They get together to celebrate religious holidays and those named after the church, such as St. Joseph's Day or St. John's Day, and then have their special feast. And they would mostly be hand-manufactured.

 

I met some Maltese people who would get together, and their church group had a little band. They'd practice their different instruments and be playing. Another group would get together, making and setting off the fireworks for the church's feast days. The whole town would come out because they're all from a single church in each town. They would celebrate the entire town, and people would come from all around to enjoy it. They did a lot of things, like hand-rolling paper tubes and wrapping them up with more paper and string.

What do you most enjoy about fireworks?

It's like hearing the song that makes you feel better. It lifts you up and makes your life easier. You appreciate it and share it with your neighbors. 

With fireworks, it doesn't matter if your neighbors may not all be of the same tradition or speak the same language; they all share the same ooh and ahh or enjoyment of it. There's a spiritual uplifting when you can just look up to the sky and say, "Oh, we're in this all together."

 

 

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It started as a holiday gift—handcrafted hard espresso—which Mario Grasso distributed among family and friends. With each bottle, he distilled the rich traditions of his Sicilian family, providing an opportunity for celebration and togetherness in each pour. 

Today, Mario's legacy lives on through his son, entrepreneur Joe Grasso. Joe transformed this special recipe into Mario's Hard Espresso, which is now sold in five states at more than 350 locations. 

I recently spoke with Joe, who shared with me the story of his family and Mario's Hard Espresso, the challenges he's faced, what sets his product apart, his advice for other entrepreneurs, and more.

 

 

Tell us about your family and connection to Sicily.

My grandfather and grandmother were from Linguaglossa, a small town at the base of Mount Etna. The town is known for an eruption in which lava flowed down the hill right toward it and literally went around a statue of the patron saint. 

My grandfather left at the turn of the century when they were all starving for opportunity, and there wasn't much to be had. He came on a boat by himself at 19 to the U.S. through Ellis Island and settled in Rome, New York. He subsequently sent for his brothers and went back to Italy to marry my grandmother. 

When they came to the U.S., he and his two brothers settled on farmland so black and rich it was referred to as "the muck." They each had a farm across the street from one another and down the block a little bit. They were blacksmiths, butchers, farmers, and toolmakers, but they were also insanely crafty, like most immigrants. 

My family did everything themselves. They built their own homes. They were carpenters. They were brick layers. They opened a butcher shop. My grandmother and my aunts (her daughters) opened an Italian bakery in town. My grandfather made wine, and the others made all kinds of things. My father, Mario, was the same way; he grew up in that culture and transferred all of that to me. That's really the origin of our spirit. 

I have this piece of railroad tie that's only about eight inches long, and I cherish it. It was given to me by my father, and it was given to my father by my grandfather. It's just an old chunk of railroad tie, but it's the one that my grandfather used to build and create tools on. He used to hammer on it, bend on it, and shape on it. It's all beat up from him doing all this work on it. And then my father used it, and now I have it, and I use it. It's a testament to them and that sort of mentality, and as I said, I cherish it.

What inspired Mario's Hard Espresso?

My father made his hard espresso every year as a gift, and he did it as far back as I can remember. He did a lot of other things. He made biscotti and wine cookies, but the espresso was particularly interesting. He had this recipe—I don't know its actual genesis; I assume it's part of everything else they did as crafty Sicilian immigrants. He'd only make about a dozen bottles for family and friends, and so it was very special. He'd put a handwritten label on it and seal it with masking tape around the top. 

When I got a little older and started drinking, I was like, "Man, this is really good!" And so I was fortunate to learn the process and make it with him for the last few years of his life. It was something we did together. 

When he passed away about 14 years ago, I wanted to continue the tradition in his honor. So I brought my son Aaron in, and every year, we would make a batch to honor my dad. We gave them out as gifts to family and friends, and we called it Mario's Hard Espresso because that's what it was: his recipe.

 

I've worked in the film business my whole life. That's been my profession. I've been a writer, a storyteller, a director, and a cinematographer. I've also been sort of entrepreneurial and gotten involved in a lot of things, some good, some not so good. One day, I read an article about contract distilling, which I had never heard about. The article was about Grey Goose Vodka and how Grey Goose is not a distillery per se; it's a brand, and they have the vodka distilled for them. And I said to myself, "You can do that?"

I started doing a little research into contract distilling. I thought, "I wonder if I could build a brand around Mario's and have someone make it for us per our recipe. Let's see what happens." So, I set out on a journey almost six years ago, whereby I just kind of chipped away at it every day. It took about two and a half years of designing the bottle, designing the labels, pulling photographs, and trying to tell the tale of my father and our family in a concise way. 

Finding a contract distiller was very difficult because we insisted it had to be my father's recipe, and a lot of distillers wanted me to reverse-engineer it. They told me, "You've got to go to a flavoring company." I had no idea what that meant, actually, so I sent samples to a flavoring company, and then they started sending me samples back. They were fake and horrible with artificial ingredients. I learned very quickly what "flavoring company" meant, and I was like, "We are not going to do this." I mean, after all, it's my Dad on the label!

I finally found a small distillery in San Diego, and they agreed to make a small batch per my father's recipe. It turned out awesome. And we launched the brand in November 2021.  

 

What challenges did you face bringing your product to market?

One of the things that's interesting about this recipe is that my father used 190-proof neutral-grain spirit, meaning pure-grain alcohol. It's illegal in California, so my father would drive to Nevada every year and buy 190-proof Everclear, and that's what he used as his base spirit. So because that was going to be an integral part of our recipe, I had to find a distillery that was capable of that. But the real challenge was producing the espresso in the amounts and the concentration we needed, finding real vanilla that fit the flavor profile that we could buy at scale, and then finding a distillery. The distillery was tough because it was during COVID, and a lot of distilleries had shifted their extra capacity to making hand sanitizer.

It was pretty difficult. I had never been in the spirits business, and every phone call was an educational event. So, I made some mistakes or went down some rabbit holes I shouldn't have. But I was just trying to discern what the path was going to be and what the best way to do this was.

 

When we finally found the distillery, we said, "Let's make 300 gallons." It was about 1,500 bottles, a very small batch, but without a distributor, I had no way to sell them.

I knew we weren't going to get distribution without any clients, so I got my wholesale spirits distribution license. In November 2021, I took those 1,500 bottles, put them in a warehouse, and hit the ground running in L.A. 

It was a remarkable experience to see that first bottle on the back bar, see my father staring out, and know that it's our family brand. It's just humbling. And I'm always honored every time we get a new account. We basically did it by getting liquor to lips and through word of mouth from the ground up. Currently, we are in about 350 locations in five states and growing. So it's been a pretty remarkable three years.

 

What sets Mario's Hard Espresso apart from other coffee liqueurs?

You'll see the term cold brew thrown around. A lot of coffee liqueurs lean into cold brew. We are not cold brew; we are real espresso. So that's the main differentiator. It's more traditionally Italian of all the liqueurs on the market. There's one Italian brand called Borghetti that's extremely popular in Italy. From a flavor profile standpoint, it comes closest because it is also a true Italian espresso. So that really sets us apart. 

The other thing is that we use 196-proof, triple-distilled grain-neutral spirit. It has a silky mouthfeel and a little bit of sweetness. It's corn-based, so it's naturally vegan, of course, and gluten-free. 

What's great about the neutral-grain spirit is that because at 196 proof it's pure alcohol, we can use less of it to hit our 28 percent, which minimizes dilution and allows us to maintain the proper concentration of coffee and vanilla, which allows us to create a super-balanced profile. 

When people try Mario's, they'll get really smooth notes of espresso and coffee flavors upfront, but it's never bitter. Then, some people will taste chocolate and caramel in the mid-palate, primarily from the combination of the coffee and the Madagascar vanilla. And then you get a little bit of heat on the back end and know you're drinking a spirit because it is 28% (alcohol by volume). 

The Tasting Panel magazine scored Mario's Hard Espresso 95 points. They got a bottle and tried it, and we are so honored to get that score from them. They specifically called out the balance and lack of bitterness of the spirit, so that was awesome.

 

What are some favorite cocktails made with Mario's Hard Espresso?

In our family, we drank it straight. My Dad started this way before the espresso martini, so I didn't even know about them really when we launched the brand. I didn't really think that it could be so versatile. But literally, within the first week of bringing it to market, we met somebody who was a bartender at the time at Seven Grand in downtown Los Angeles. And he said, "Oh my God, I can imagine the things I can do with this."

 

So we went there, and he was making cocktails with whiskey. We never even thought of that. Subsequently, we've learned that it's an incredibly versatile spirit, primarily because we use a neutral-grain spirit that blends well with everything. 

Of all our accounts, probably 200 are doing espresso martinis with Mario's, but we're also seeing espresso negronis and espresso old-fashioneds. Mario's is amazing with mezcal and tequila. In fact, we put together a recipe card filled with cocktails just to show the versatility.

 

We did a collaboration with Madre Mezcal and created an amazing mezcal espresso old-fashioned. We also collaborated with High West Whiskey on a "Cowboy Coffee." We blended half Mario's and half High West Campfire and garnished with a slice of orange. It's amazing—dangerously delicious, as we like to say.

We also created an amazing brunch drink we call a Boozy Julius. It's a take on the old Orange Julius. It's one part Marios, one part orange juice, and a little float of cream. It sounds crazy, but it tastes just like a creamsicle, and people love it. 

Another drink we did as a slush in the summer is now being poured up as a type of dirty horchata espresso martini, which is our ode to L.A. We call it a 213, like the area code, and 213 is also the recipe. It's two parts Mario's, one part tequila, and three parts horchata. So you can shake it and pour it like an espresso martini. You can put it in a blender and make a frappe. And like I said, we'll put it in the slush machine during the summer. It's super good.

 

What advice do you have for other entrepreneurs?

First of all, you have to believe. You have to be as honest about it as you can. You've got to approach whatever project you're doing with as much integrity as possible. Be honest and put it out there; if you believe in it and work hard, hopefully, you'll be successful. That's the sort of mantra that I followed through this whole process and continue to follow every day.

 

I did a documentary project about eight years ago. I interviewed a bunch of different people who were living their best lives. We talked to them about the kind of work they did. One of the people I interviewed was Thaddeus Mosley, an amazing sculptor in Pittsburgh. He works in wood and makes massive sculptures that you'll see in large public spaces like hotel lobbies and airports. 

Thaddeus was 85 years old or so when I interviewed him. I asked him, "These logs are huge, and you work alone; how do you even approach projects of this size?" He said to me, "Man, people ask me that all the time. And I just tell them, you've got to be like a termite. One little bite at a time; you don't eat the whole log all at once."

For me, that was like a bomb going off in my head. I said, "You know what? I'm not going to set an end time. I'm just going to take a little bite every day. That's all I'm going to do." And that little bite could be a phone call, reading an article, sending an email, or whatever. So long as I take a bite every day, eventually, I will eat the whole log. 

That's what we do, and that's what I would tell anybody. Just take a bite every day. Don't make yourself crazy. Just learn. Learn and chip away at it; eventually, you will eat the whole log.

 

What experience do you hope to share?

Well, my father, Mario, made this hard espresso every year because nothing made him happier than people coming together to share a drink, tell a story, laugh, and have a human experience. And that is literally why we do it. It's what we lean into.

We make it ourselves now. We stopped the contract distilling because the volume just got to the point where we needed to control our inventory, quality control, and everything about it.

When we're in production, I tell everybody, "Look at each of those bottles; one of those bottles is going to end up on somebody's table." People are going to give them as gifts, they're going to go to weddings. They are going to be there for some of the biggest moments of people's lives, but also simple moments, like for people who take them skiing or camping. It's an opportunity to spread the love of my father. Telling this story and having people enjoy it is just the most amazing thing ever. 

 

I got a call recently from a couple that was getting married. Her name was Ginger, his name was Mario, and they wanted to give all their guests special favors. She had found a little bottle of ginger honey for herself, and she wondered if we made a small Mario's Hard Espresso bottle. She told me, "When I found Mario's Hard Espresso, I immediately ordered a bottle. As soon as we tried it, we ordered three more." It was really, really sweet. And I said, "We don't make a small bottle, but for you, I will."

So we made 150 of them and sent them to them for their wedding. That's just something I wanted to do because it's the perfect celebration for people to experience and enjoy Mario's for themselves. We call it "Sharing the Love." It's what motivates us every day and is literally why we do what we do.

 

 

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Thanks to all who attended my launch party for The Last Letter from Sicily. 

You could say that design runs in Sicilian-born milliner Roberta Cucuzza's blood. The bespoke hatmaker's great-grandmother, Maria Bellini, a Coco Chanel and Elsa Schiaparelli contemporary, opened a fashion atelier in Catania in the 1920s and passed her passion onto her family. 

Roberta has fond memories of sewing with her grandmother, which serve as touchstones on her career path. The London-based designer takes hat commissions as she works toward an HNC in Textiles/Millinery at Morley College in Chelsea, London, the only professional millinery course available in the UK.

 

I recently had the opportunity to connect with Roberta, who shared more about her background and inspiration, her journey to her first commission in 2019, her award-winning hat, and her plans for the future.

 

Tell us about your background and what led you to millinery.

My fashion heritage goes about three generations back to my great-grandmother. She had a good life and a really nice marriage. For those days in 1920s Sicily, she was very independent and got a lot of support from her husband to pursue her goal of running a fashion business. Unfortunately, her husband passed away when he was 50 when she was still relatively young, so she found herself raising six kids on her own through her work as a tailor. There's a story of survival that goes with her craft. 

She was a tailor and a fashion designer who attended a professional school in Italy. When she was still with my great-grandfather, they traveled to Paris together, embarking on a 2,000-kilometer journey by steam train! In those days, it wasn't an easy trip. They went there in the twenties when Schiaparelli and Chanel would probably have been showing their work. She came back excited and brought lots of nice materials back with her. Her business grew because of this trip and gradually attracted clients from the Sicilian nobility. Her business really thrived. She had a 17-room atelier in central Catania.

She was really infectious in terms of passing on her passion to her daughters. I spent my childhood sewing things with my grandmother Isabella, which is where everything started for me. However, it wasn't until many years later that I encountered millinery. My great-grandmother would not have made hats because they had what we call a modista, a milliner who would do that. But my dad has a big passion for hats, and the two things eventually came together.

 

My first encounter with hats was in 2015 when I attended a workshop in London. London is more open-minded when it comes to hats, while Italy is quite traditional. I just fell in love with millinery at first sight.

 

What memories do you have of sewing with your grandmother?

We celebrate Carnevale in Italy, and the family made all of my Carnevale dresses from scratch. My grandmother and aunt made this princess dress from a beautifully embroidered taffeta material that I think came from Morocco. I remember so clearly sitting on a chair for them to do the hem. They even made a matching headband to go with the dress.

 

Lots of love came with this craft. My early memories involve spending time with my loved ones, holding a needle, and making little purses or projects that my grandmother would give me.

 

The one thing I'm a bit upset with my grandmother about is that she never wanted to teach me how to use the sewing machine because she was scared I would hurt my fingers. It's something I had to pick up later on. Only recently have I overcome that deep fear. It would have saved me so much time, though, if I had learned it from her!

In millinery, you do a lot of hand sewing, and it came naturally to me to focus more on invisible stitching and all the things you do by hand. Eventually I wanted to be able to also create pattern-based hats that involve using a sewing machine. I mastered this in college only last year!

A couple of things really stayed with me. One is the quality of the materials my family was able to find in Italy to make clothes, and the other is their attention to detail. There's an emotion that goes into what you're making; it's not just a piece of fabric that goes through a machine.  

 

Describe your journey from training to your first commission.

After some years of playing around just for pleasure, I started training professionally in 2019 through workshops and courses available in London. Then, I was approached by a burlesque performer called Olive TuPartie in New York via Instagram. She trusted me one hundred percent. It was one of those things that just happened, and I couldn't believe it because she was (and still is) the dream customer.

 

Because she's called Olive, she asked me to make something that resembled an olive with a skewer and a pimento. We collaborated online, and it was interesting that I could do my first commission across the ocean, basically without doing a fitting. But I spend a lot of time really understanding the customer and paying attention, putting some thought into what I'm doing at the same time.

 

My training was not formal, but I attended workshops with renowned milliners. In London, they organized London Hat Week; they invited milliners from abroad to come and teach, and I was lucky to study with people all the way from Australia and Israel. So, the two things coincided.

 

Tell us about your award-winning Riccio hat, its inspiration, and how you created it.

This project was very close to my heart for many reasons. My mom passed away a couple of years ago, and I didn't realize until later how much of that was part of this project.

 

It all came about when our teacher took us to a cemetery just to get some inspiration. There were corbezzolo trees there. I picked up this berry, and I was just attracted by the idea of something that's spiky outside with something precious inside. So, I started developing some mockups and prototypes and let this project take its course.

 

The sea urchin, riccio in Italian, uses this survival strategy. At the time, I felt a bit like a riccio because I was trying to protect myself and be strong outside. 

The other key element of this design is crochet. My mom taught me to crochet when I was little. So when I made the structure of the sea urchin with millinery wire, I then covered it with crocheted felt, a technique I developed entirely on my own. To be honest, I didn't even know it was possible until I did this.

 

So lots of things came together: the fact that there's this kind of relationship that goes back to when I was a child. When I was designing it, it wasn't clear to me. I was just going with the design process and going from one thing to another. But when it came to writing my artist statement at the end, I realized all these elements from my Sicilian heritage were there. It's probably the project that is closest to my heart right now.

 

How do you balance traditional techniques with modern design elements in your work?

I think traditional techniques are there to help you. You have to know the rules to be able to break them. First, you have to learn the craft properly, and then you can go beyond and understand how you can innovate.

 

In a way, I am quite traditional. I am very curious about traditions, heritage, and old crafts. That's why crochet is one of the techniques that I'm trying to develop at the moment. I'm thinking of starting to crochet with materials that may not be so traditional—anything from metal and leather to foraged pieces of grass. I am still in that process, but a crucial part of my design language is the juxtaposition of contrasting elements: old and new, feminine and masculine, hard and soft. For example, I recently developed a feminine version of the Sicilian flat cap, made with luxurious materials that contrast with its traditional association with men in the Sicilian countryside. 

 

What are your future plans?

This year, my focus is on finishing my last year in college, when we will present our final collection. I'm hoping that this will be my debut as a millinery designer-maker. I've already been gaining work experience with other milliners, and I intend to continue working freelance, producing a mixture of my own designs and creations for other people.

 

More recently, I've also been doing some work in theatrical millinery, a type of work that really appeals to me because it's more about solving a problem. Although I do like fashion and I like to create my own designs, I see myself l always doing a mixture of fashion and work for the stage.

 

I think it goes back to my first commission for Olive. That commission will probably be the one that will always stay with me; it sort of set the tone for me from the start. More recently, I have realized that what I like to do is help people realize their creative vision on and off the stage.

 

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

A smile? Happiness. That's the thing that hats do for people. You can go anywhere; if you wear a hat, you connect with others. People will probably ask about it. They'll be intrigued by your personality. What my hats do is create connections and generate happy memories. That's happened so many times.

 

Once, a lady came to me and said she had been told she couldn't wear hats because of her face. I said, "It's just like a haircut. You've just got to find the right one for you." Then she started wearing this hat that we looked at together, and a few days later, she sent me a thank-you card for helping her feel happy and confident in her own skin. That's what I'd like people to take away.

You can follow Roberta on Instagram @robertacucuzzamillinery and see her work on her website at robertacucuzza.com. Feel free to sign up to her mailing list to receive subscriber-only updates.

 

 

Robert Cucuzza's Riccio hat. Photo by Fenica Chambel

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Fast Penny Spirits Founder and CEO Jamie Hunt is on a mission. She wants to change the way we drink, and part of that means tapping into tradition. In Jamie's case, that translates to her Sicilian roots. Her grandparents came to the U.S. from Caltanissetta and Palermo. Her grandfather made wine, and her mother introduced her to the art of spirit-making.

 

American-made amari just couldn't compare to the complex flavors Jamie experienced in Italy, so the "mostly Seattle" native concocted her own, launching flagship varietals: Amaricano and Amaricano Bianca.

I recently had the chance to chat with Jamie about amari origins, Fast Penny Spirits' start, the company's generous give-back program, some of the 46 botanicals in the Amaricano recipe, and what she'd like to see and hear from customers.

 

 

What exactly is amaro?

It just means bitter in Italian. It's a bittersweet Italian liqueur. Other countries make it, but Italy is most well-known for it. It's made by macerating botanicals like flowers, roots, herbs, spices, and fruits. The botanicals are then put into either a high-proof spirit, which is the most common, or wine. 

 

 

What is the history of amaro?

Preserving the health benefits of plants in alcohol has been done for centuries because there wasn't refrigeration and no way to freeze or sustain whatever those properties were. It's just interesting to see how it evolved from this liquid to help treat ailments into adding a little bit more sugar to make it more pleasant for people and eventually becoming more of an elixir or something you would drink whether you were sick or not.

 

There's also an interesting story about amaro with the Prohibition in the U.S. Because it was considered medicine, it could be sold in pharmacies in the U.S. So fernet and other Italian amari came in as medicine, and people could buy it at their local drugstore. That's the time when the Hanky Panky cocktail was created with fernet. 

So, there are interesting little moments throughout history when this comes alive. When we were in the Averna factory in Sicily, we went to the abbey where the monks created the recipe. It was fascinating to explore the gardens and see many of the ingredients used in the Averna recipe.

 

 

How did you get started producing Amaricano?

I have been an amaro lover for a very long time since traveling to Italy in my twenties. I've been drinking it ever since. My family is Italian, and my grandfather used to make wine. My mom used to make Galliano and other Italian liqueurs, like limoncello. So I kind of grew up just used to being around people making beautiful things, whether it was food or liquid.

I worked as a consultant in the digital tech industry for over twenty years. I was looking for a new chapter and trying to figure out something I was passionate about that would be a real product, like a physical product. Because I've been doing so much that didn't have a physical element to it. 

I also wanted to create something that allowed me to give back. From the start, I knew I wanted to become a B Corp because I believe in business as a force for good—for people, the planet, and our environment.

Being raised in an Italian family teaches you the importance of welcoming, engaging, and building a sense of community. It's about being a place where people love to gather, enjoy good food and drink, and experience genuine hospitality. That's the spirit I wanted to create.

One night, I was having an after-dinner amaro with my husband at a local bar here in Seattle. For whatever reason, that night, I got curious about whether there was an American-made amaro. I had never really thought about it before. 

They had a few bottles behind the bar and offered us samples, as about half a dozen amaro makers are in the Seattle area. We tried them, and while they were good, they didn't have the same complexity as the Italian styles I was used to. That sparked my interest in researching the market and experimenting with my own recipes. 

Six months later, I launched the business and began developing the recipes, a process that took about two and a half years. During that time, I was also working full-time as a partner in the digital business at Ernst and Young.

In March 2020, when the realization came that COVID was here and we were in lockdown, I had to change my whole launch strategy. I planned to launch in July 2020 but could no longer launch with a distributor because distributors didn't want to pick up any new brands then. 

Restaurants and bars are typically the way you launch a spirit. And most of those were shut down and doing takeout. 

With all of that in mind, I made a decision about the direction I wanted to take in both life and work. I resigned from EY and dedicated myself full-time to Fast Penny. We launched in July 2020 and have been growing ever since.

Tell us more about Fast Penny's give-back program.

It's called Pretty Penny, and we focus on several initiatives. Our main program is a quarterly 3% giveback from bottle sales to nonprofits that support women, the community, and the hospitality industry. We also volunteer our time with various nonprofits as part of this effort, and we frequently offer in-kind donations. Giving back is a core value for us.

 

How does Amaricano compare to Sicilian amari?

We use wooden casks and filtration methods similar to the amari facilities I visited in Sicily. We've also incorporated some of the same botanicals. My recipe includes sweet and bitter orange, as well as saffron, which is a traditional ingredient. 

 

Staying true to Italian tradition, I focused on sourcing local ingredients to highlight the terroir of where our amaro is made. I discovered saffron grown in Washington State, which was exciting. We also have Rainier cherries, named after our local mountain, which are stunning, as well as hazelnuts. Even truffles, foraged by dogs right here in Washington, are part of the mix.

 

I have a truffle dog as well. He's a Lagotto Romagnolo, the truffle dog of Italy. His nickname is Fiori. His longer name is Draco Fiorano. We call him Fiori because that would be a lot to get out! 

We work with a local forging company called Truffle Dog Co., and the founder, Alana McGee, sometimes comes by and grabs Fiori for a hunt. Unfortunately, I'm so busy with the business that I can't go truffle hunting on my own. So, she'll take Fiori along with her dogs, and they'll head out to find truffles, then bring them back to us.

 

 

How do truffles factor into Amaricano?

It is beautiful. I dehydrate them, and when you dehydrate them, it concentrates the flavor and changes it a bit. So instead of that funkiness that we associate with truffles, which I love, it turns into more of a cocoa, fruity, earthy flavor, which really melds a lot of the other botanicals that are in the mix. 

At one point, I considered removing truffles from the main products to cut costs and reduce the price of the amari, but since they were integral to the recipe, it really didn't hold together without them. It creates a nice flavor profile and body. 

We also include hops in our product since Washington is the largest grower and exporter of hops in the U.S., producing over 75% of the country's supply, most coming from Yakima Valley where ours are grown. We thought, "We definitely need to incorporate that ingredient!"

 

 

You give tours of your distillery. Tell us what those entail.

We share the story of Fast Penny, explaining the process of making amaro and how I developed the products they're tasting. Guests get to sample our limited releases, and we tailor the experience based on their interests. Typically, this includes tasting the limited releases, learning about our production process, and exploring the rich history of amaro, as many people are unaware that it has been around for centuries. Then, we end the tour with a cocktail made with our amaro in local spirits to highlight its versatility in entertaining. 

 

 

What kind of feedback have you gotten about your products?

I wanted people to think, "Wow, I never realized I liked amari until I tried yours, and now I have a whole collection!" I've actually had several people approach me, unsolicited, to say just that.

 

I want people to love our product and keep using it, but I also aim to broaden the category as a whole. I don't view other amari brands as competitors; we're a small segment compared to the larger spirits industry. Instead, we can support one another and elevate the entire category together. 

 

 

What is your ultimate goal with Fast Penny Spirits?

My goal is to create fun and memorable experiences that incorporate amaro. One way to do this is through cocktails or as a pre-meal drink, but if you've just enjoyed a big meal and want the night to continue, it's all about introducing people to the concept of a digestif.

We also host many events here at Fast Penny. We've organized a summer concert series, chocolate-amaro pairings, and mushroom happy hours. We're always looking for ways to connect people and create memorable experiences and community, whether at the distillery or in their own homes.

 

 

 

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A thick and spongy savory tomato pie, sfincione is the grandmother of what Americans call Sicilian pizza. As is typical in Western Sicily, my nonna would top hers with anchovies, onions, breadcrumbs, and cheese. We looked forward to enjoying it with our Christmas Eve feast, always saving some room for her cookies.

Nonna rarely wrote her recipes; when she did, there were never any measurements. Luckily, folks like Italian-American siblings Michele and Joe Becci of Our Italian Table are doing their part to preserve food traditions. Their recipe for sfincione is approachable, and the result resembles what Nonna would have prepared.

I recently corresponded with Michele and Joe, who shared their background and connection to this recipe, how sfincione differs from pizza, favorite side dishes, and more.

 

 

Tell us about your background.

We are two siblings who grew up as second-generation Italian Americans in the small town of Phillipsburg, New Jersey—a place that welcomed a large influx of Italian immigrants in the early 20th century. Our love of cooking began in our childhood, helping our mother in the kitchen. Standing on chairs, we would roll pasta dough, shape gnocchi, or (gently) stir the simmering pot of passatelli. Together, we rolled meatballs, kneaded dough, helped make the sauce, and fried eggplant. Our mother was forever sharing her specialties with family and neighbors, near and far. Thankfully, she passed on her passion for cooking to us.

 

Our grandparents emigrated from Sicily, Naples, and Marche in Italy. Their arduous journey across the sea to a new life only deepened their desire to continue the traditions and rhythms of their former lives in a new land and build a life surrounded by the love of family. Growing up, large family gatherings were the norm, and good food was the foundation for a lifetime of memories filled with laughter and love. 

This celebration of family, tradition, and Italian culture is at the heart of everything we do, which is why we first launched Our Italian Table, our food blog, over 15 years ago. Working from opposite coasts—Joey in California and Michele in Pennsylvania—our blog has brought us great joy, allowing us to share our passion with our readers. Today, Our Italian Table has grown to include our annual magazines (our most recent issue, "From Sicily, With Love," is over 100 pages dedicated to the land of our maternal grandparents, Sicily) and our recently launched podcast, A Tavola, along with an online shop that features carefully curated Italian products from artisans we know and love—items we proudly use in our own homes and kitchens here in the U.S.   

 

What is your connection to this recipe?

Our mother's family is from Santo Stefano di Camastra in Sicily. Many from her village immigrated to the town in the U.S. where we grew up, Phillipsburg. There was a bakery called the New York Italian Bakery, an institution that had been around for over 40 years. We can still remember how excited we would be when we would jump in our Dad's station wagon for a trip to the bakery. The aromas in the bakery were magical—the smell of the piles and piles of breads and Italian cookies gleaming behind the glass display cases—but our favorite display case was the one that held the trays of Sicilian pizza, oily and thick and tomatoey. Whenever our parents allowed us to have a slice of pizza, they would scoop a slice out of the pan and hand it over to us, oily against the parchment paper. We were made to wait until we were back in the car to eat our prized possession, and we devoured it.  

 

How is sfincione different from pizza?

Sfincione, often called "Sicilian pizza," is quite distinct from the classic pizza most people know. It's not the thin, crisp-crusted Neapolitan or New York-style varieties. Sfincione has a thick, soft, and fluffy crust, more akin to focaccia. It's baked in a rectangular pan, which helps create a thick, spongy base that's both light and substantial. The name "sfincione" itself hints at its texture, derived from the Latin word spongia, meaning "sponge." 

 

The dough is covered with a mix of onions sautéed with tomatoes, anchovies, and breadcrumbs, which add a bit of savory crunch. Cheese—usually grated caciocavallo or pecorino—is sprinkled over the top. The anchovies, onions, and robust cheese provide a savory punch, while breadcrumbs on top add texture and a rustic finish. Oregano, Sicilian oregano if you can find it, is used in the sauce, giving it a unique Sicilian flavor. 

 

What are some popular sfincione side dishes?

We love to serve sfincione as part of an antipasti board that includes maybe a simple mix of briny olives, cured meats, and cheeses. When served as a meal, we love to serve a bright, lemony salad, perhaps peppery arugula dressed lightly with lemon juice and shaved Parmigiano. A classic Sicilian fennel and orange salad also works beautifully to add brightness alongside the deep flavors of the sfincione. Occasionally, when we have a larger crowd, we might also serve a platter of seasonal grilled vegetables such as zucchini, eggplant, and peppers drizzled with extra-virgin olive oil and red wine vinegar. 

 

What do you hope readers take away from your recipe?

We want readers to come away with a sense of Sicily's culinary soul and an appreciation for the simplicity and depth of flavors that define traditional Sicilian dishes. Sfincione isn't just a "Sicilian pizza"—it's a rustic, satisfying dish with a story, a connection to Sicilian street food culture, and a distinct personality… a taste of Sicily in its most comforting form, a reminder of the island's ability to transform humble ingredients into something memorable and delicious. We also hope that our readers will feel inspired to make sfincione at home and to gather and enjoy it like in Sicily, where sfincione is meant to be savored slowly, with friends and family, in the warmth of community.

 

>>Get Our Italian Table's sfincione recipe here!<<

 

 

 

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It's the quintessentially Christmas image: chestnuts roasting on an open fire or, for most modern cooks, in the oven. Just visualizing it calls to mind the earthy aroma, something commonly encountered on the streets of Palermo this time of year. There, le caldarroste are served as street food dusted in snowy white salt in paper-wrapped cones.

Pennsylvania-based blogger Anna Maria Lucchese has fond memories of Sicily's roasted chestnuts and shared her experience in a post on her blog, Solo Dolce.

 

Born and raised in Sicily, Anna Maria studied biology at university and earned her doctorate in genetics and oncology in Italy. For study-related reasons, she and her husband moved to the United States. They intended to stay for a short time, but that didn't happen. Today, both work in Philadelphia in the field of research, and in Anna Maria's free time, she dedicates herself to her blog, where she explores Italian cuisine in depth.

 

Anna Maria recently shared her experience with roasted chestnuts and tips for recreating the flavor at home.

 

 

What makes roasted chestnuts a popular street food in Sicily?

Chestnuts are a seasonal delight because they are harvested in the fall. They are available throughout the cooler months, so they are ideal, especially during Christmas. Roasted chestnuts are a common treat at family get-togethers and regional celebrations, bringing back fond memories of childhood for many Sicilians.

 

How are roasted chestnuts traditionally prepared and served by vendors in Palermo?

The roasted chestnut vendors in Palermo are truly unique. They create a captivating scene, surrounded by fragrant smoke rising from a metal cylinder. Inside, glowing embers rest at the bottom, with chestnuts placed on top. As the chestnuts roast, they're often sprinkled with salt, which interacts with the heat to create a fine, white powder that resembles powdered sugar. This visual and sensory experience draws in passersby, inviting them to indulge in this traditional winter snack. The vendors' lively presence and the warm aroma of roasting chestnuts evoke a sense of nostalgia and community, making them a beloved part of Palermo's winter streets.

 

What memories do you associate with roasted chestnuts during the Christmas season in Sicily?

My memories take me back to my time in Sicily, in my hometown, during the winter holidays. I remember walking along the Corso, the main street of the town, with friends. We would stop by the vendors to buy warm, roasted chestnuts, which became our delicious snacks as we strolled. The warmth of the chestnuts in our hands and the comforting aroma filled the air, creating a sense of joy and togetherness. Each bite was a reminder of the simple pleasures of winter, and those moments spent with friends made the season truly special.

 

What are some tips for preparing roasted chestnuts at home?

Buy chestnuts (Look for fresh, shiny chestnuts that are firm to the touch. Avoid any with blemishes or holes) in the supermarket, cut them, sprinkle them with salt, and bake them at 450 degrees Fahrenheit for 30 to 40 minutes. Or if you have a chestnut pan (or a heavy skillet with holes), you can roast them on the stovetop over medium heat, shaking occasionally, for about 15 to 20 minutes.


Photo by Solo Dolce's Anna Maria Lucchese

 

What do you hope readers will take away from this recipe and your blog?

I hope readers will take away a deeper appreciation for the simple pleasures of cooking and enjoying traditional foods like roasted chestnuts. My blog aims to celebrate the rich culinary heritage of Italy, sharing not just recipes but also the stories and memories associated with them.

 

 >>Get Anna Maria's le caldarroste recipe here!<<

 

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One of my favorite Sicilian treats as a child was torrone, a nut-filled nougat candy my Sicilian grandmother always had on hand, especially for the holidays.

I recently encountered a recipe for torrone in the pages of Giovanna Bellia La Marca's Sicilian Feast, recently reissued as an expanded edition of her 2004 book. 

"Torrone is such a part of Sicilian cuisine that no holiday goes by without it," says Giovanna. "It's delicious. Children love it; adults love it. So it's just part of our culture and kind of a symbol of Sicily."

Giovanna La Marca, who came to the U.S. from Sicily when she was 10 years old, also runs the Kitchen on the Cliff YouTube channel. The name is a nod to the fact that her kitchen is actually on a cliff overlooking Manhattan. 

Giovanna shared with me the history of torrone, how the Sicilian recipe differs from that of mainland Italy, and how this nougat treat has become a Sicilian symbol.

 

 

What is torrone?

Torrone is a nougat candy, and in Sicily, we make it with almonds and sugar or almonds and a combination of sugar and honey. 

It is very much tied to our history. Since antiquity, many people have invaded Sicily. There were the Greeks who made settlements all over Sicily, and they, of course, brought the trees.

The myth is that a boat carrying almond trees and grapevines was going to Puglia, the heel of Italy, which is very close to Greece. And the wind blew it to Sicily. 

But the sweets! Sicily is quite famous for its sweets. One of the great sweets is torrone, and another one is marzipan, which are little sculptures of fruits that are so lifelike that when you see them in the window of the pasticceria, it is just amazing to see the likeness and the artistry with which they are made. 

To achieve that, Sicilians already had almonds, but the sugar was brought by the Arabs around 700, and they planted sugarcane in Sicily.

An interesting side note of that is that the sugar industry in Sicily was dominated by the resident Jews. There was quite a large Jewish colony in Sicily, and they developed the sugar industry. 

Now unfortunately, in 1492, when Spain expelled the Jews, they expelled them not only from their own country but from all the places that they controlled as well, which included Sicily. The Sicilians had no quarrel with the Jews. In fact, the Jewish people really ran the sugar industry. So they waited six months. They didn't want to expel them. But Spain prevailed. And that ended the sugar industry in Sicily, which is a little-known fact but a very interesting one, I think.

 

How does Sicilian torrone differ from torrone found elsewhere in Italy?

Well, the typical torrone of Italy is white, and it's made with a meringue of sugar and almonds and sometimes other nuts and sometimes bits of citron and so on. It is poured on edible rice paper, and that's how it's served and cut. 

In Sicily, it is really almonds surrounded by crunchy caramel. It's very, very crunchy. It's actually a brittle. You can cut it with a knife, and you get all the cross sections of the almonds, which is very pretty. But you can also break it. It breaks in odd shapes, and that's another way that we usually serve it.

 

As a child, I had trouble with it because I didn't have the patience to let it melt in my mouth. I wanted to chew it, and chewing it was a job because it was really quite hard. 

I'm not talking about the soft caramel we all know. I'm talking about true caramel, which, if you pour into a greased bowl and turn the bowl upside down, you end up with a bowl made of caramel.

It's used that way for very high cuisine. In Sicily, we have two cuisines. We have home cooking, which is extremely rich and wonderful because it's influenced by all the invasions. Our invaders did contribute a great deal; they didn't just invade. They contributed to the language. They contributed to music, and they contributed to the food. 

 

What developed in Sicily in the Renaissance was a cuisine for the aristocrats. The cooks were generally trained in France, then came back to Sicily and became the monzu. These professional chefs worked for two entities: the church and the aristocracy. And that was an extraordinary cuisine. 

 

What does torrone symbolize for Sicily?

Well, it's something delicious, and sweets are generally the food that you get at festivals. They're always served at Christmas and for all of the feasts. Every Sicilian town has a patron saint and a feast for the patron saint. 

It really represents Sicily in its products because of the almonds of Sicily, particularly the city of Avola. Avola produces almonds that are called pizzuta, which means pointy almonds. They are very, very fragrant and very flavorful. That, of course, is due to the climate and the soil. In Sicily, the volcanic soil produces fruits and nuts with flavors you don't get otherwise.

Almonds are part of a very important festival in Agrigento. The almonds fruit in February. So, in February, Agrigento is filled with almond trees in bloom. The almond trees in bloom have such a heady perfume that you almost feel enveloped by the scent of the almonds and the almond trees. So there's a lot of folklore around it.

 

What was your goal with your cookbook, and what do you hope readers will take away?

I think I had very specific reasons for writing a book. I am a cook. I am a passionate cook. I have always loved to cook. I started when I was 10 years old. 

My mother cooked well, but she wasn't passionate about it. She had to have a perfectly orderly house and a floor that you could eat off of. My father did a lot of cooking, and he was very good, and I was his assistant. So if he made, say, risotto, I was the one who chopped the mushrooms. And the mushrooms for the risotto had to be about the same size as the grains of rice. So, I had a very good beginning. 

I met Italian Americans and Sicilian Americans, and they always said, "I remember my grandmother's cooking. It was so delicious. It was so wonderful. But she didn't leave any recipes, and I was too young to ask for recipes."

I heard this over and over again, so I thought, "I would like to write a cookbook that gives them Nonna's recipes."

 

My aim was to give typical and original recipes—not versions of, but the original recipes, the recipes that we all came up with and that our grandmothers cooked.

 

>>Get your copy of Sicilian Feast here!<<

 

 

 

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It's been a long journey—four years, to be exact. But my book baby is due to be born January 16, 2025. I am so grateful for all of the support I've received and am blessed to be working with Storm Publishing, who saw my vision and shepherded this project to reality. You can now pre-order The Last Letter from Sicily; advance reader copies will be available on December 20. 

 

Below, you will find the book jacket copy, which introduces Concetta and Gaetano, who were inspired by my Sicilian grandparents. The story is fiction, but their enduring love—against the odds—will forever be remembered. 

"My dearest Gaetano, if this letter reaches you, know that my heart remains under the Sicilian stars where we made our promise..."

 

Sicily, 1939. Seventeen-year-old Concetta has just received life-changing news: her family is leaving their sun-drenched Sicilian village and moving to America. Desperate to stay with her secret love, Gaetano—a fisherman's son her father would never accept—Concetta spends one last night with him beneath a blanket of stars. There, among the citrus-scented air and cricket song, he hands her a leaving gift: a fountain pen, with a promise to keep their love alive through letters—and return to one another one day.

 

In America, Concetta refuses to let go of her dream of returning to Sicily, even as she struggles to navigate a strange new world of factory work and prejudice. Her letters to Gaetano become her lifeline, each one carrying fragments of her heart across the ocean. But when Italy declares war on the United States, Gaetano's letters suddenly stop. As Concetta faces pressure to let go of her past and accept her new American life, she yearns to discover Gaetano's fate—even if it means crossing a war-torn ocean to find him.

 

From the terraced hills of Sicily to the brewing tensions of wartime America, this richly woven tale of forbidden love and impossible choices will break your heart and put it back together again. Perfect for fans of Kelly Rimmer, Rhys Bowen, and Angela Petch, The Last Letter from Sicily asks just how far you would go to keep a promise made beneath the stars.

 

>>Pre-order The Last Letter from Sicily today!<<

Have you gotten your hands on good-quality almonds? Try making some Sicilian almond cookies!

One to try: pizzicotti alle mandorle. Made with freshly blanched almonds, these holiday-perfect cookies are named for the way they are pinched using the thumb, forefinger, and middle finger before they are set in the oven.

 

I recently stumbled on a plant-based pizzicotti recipe on veganhotstuff.com. Many of the recipes Switzerland-based blogger Deborah Bolton has published are vegan versions of Italian dishes. She shared with me more about her version of this classic cookie and her zero-waste way of using chickpea liquid, aquafaba, as a binding.

 

 

Tell us about this almond cookie recipe and what inspired you to make it.

This almond cookie recipe originates from Southern Italy, particularly Sicily, where almonds grow abundantly in the warm Mediterranean climate. These cookies are called pizzicotti alle mandorle in Italian, where pizzicotti means pinches and mandorle is the word for almonds.

 

Pizzicotti alle mandorle are irresistibly crunchy on the outside with a soft, chewy center that melts in your mouth. I was inspired to make this recipe because I wanted to make a plant-based version that no one would be able to distinguish from the original. This recipe can be enjoyed by omnivores, vegans, and people with egg allergies alike.

 

What is the significance of this cookie recipe?

Almonds have always been significant in Italian culture, symbolizing good luck and prosperity. Pizzicotti alle mandorle embody this tradition and often appear during festive occasions and special gatherings. In Sicily, they are a cherished part of feast day celebrations and weddings, symbolizing good fortune and the sweetness of life. These traditional almond biscuits are often made using family recipes that have been handed down through the centuries. Skilled artisans and home bakers alike take pride in their meticulous preparation.

 

 

If you love almonds, you'll adore pizzicotti alle mandorle. Photo by Deborah Bolton.

 

How is your recipe different from the traditional cookie?

As always, I like to keep traditional recipes as authentic as possible but without the use of animal products. The only difference between my recipe and the traditional cookie is the absence of egg white, which I substituted with aquafaba. Aquafaba is the cooking liquid in a jar or can of chickpeas. It has similar emulsifying, foaming, binding, gelatinizing, and thickening properties to egg whites, and the taste is absolutely undetectable. This recipe turned out perfect, and no one could tell that they were vegan.

 

Another thing I like about using aquafaba is the fact it aligns with my zero-waste philosophy. Chickpea water normally gets thrown away. Using it in our recipes instead of eggs is far better than exploiting hens and costs nothing.
 

Are there any specific types of ingredients that work best for this recipe?

Yes. While it's possible to use either blanched or non-blanched almonds, I recommend using blanched (peeled) almonds because they yield an attractive-looking white cookie. In contrast, the brown skin on unpeeled almonds would result in a slightly darker cookie with brown flecks, which would be ideal for amaretti, for example, but not so much for pizzicotti. It's best to use ground almonds, also known as almond meal, rather than almond flour to ensure you get the right texture. If you can't find ready-ground almonds, just buy whole ones. It's very easy to grind your own. This recipe calls for lemon zest, so make sure you use lemons with an edible peel.

 

Last but not least—sugar. Not all sugar is vegan because bone char is often used in the refining process, so check labels. I use white vegan caster sugar. Caster sugar is finer than granulated sugar, which is ideal for this recipe.

 

What are the most critical steps in the preparation process?

This recipe is actually super easy to make. The most critical step is probably weighing the ingredients precisely. If you're approximate, it will definitely affect the texture of the cookies. Use a good kitchen scale because even slight variations in the amount of moisture will cause the cookies to either spread in the oven and lose their characteristic shape or be harder than they should be. The only other critical step is understanding when the cookies are done. They should be soft and pale when they come out of the oven and firm up as they cool.

Crunchy on the outside and chewy inside. Photo by Deborah Bolton.

What do you hope readers will take away from this recipe?

I hope readers will not only fall in love with the taste of these almond cookies but also appreciate the simplicity and authenticity of the recipe. With their crunchy exterior and soft, chewy center, they remain true to the traditional Sicilian cookie, even with the vegan twist. What's even better is the satisfaction of making a cruelty-free version that's just as good as the original, if not better. I also hope it inspires people to be creative with their plant-based cooking and consider the environmental and ethical benefits of using ingredients like aquafaba. And since they make such great edible gifts, especially around Christmas, I hope readers feel encouraged to share them with loved ones, knowing they're spreading a little piece of sweet, homemade joy!       

 

>>Get Deborah's pizzicotti delle mandorle recipe here!<<

 

 

 

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When you think of Italian wines, your first thought may be northern Italy or Tuscany. But Emilia Aiello is on a mission to challenge that instinct and educate wine connoisseurs on the virtues of southern Italy. 

The Oakland, California, native cut her teeth in New York restaurants, serving as wine director and then leading the beverage program at Greenwich Village's Lupa Osteria Romana. Her interest in wine led her down a rabbit hole to working at a winery through a harvest season in Sicily's Mount Etna region and creating her own regional wine map. She wished to share her experience and introduce more people to the area, leading her to launch her own online wine retailer/educational resource, Cittavino & Co.

Emilia is Italian on both sides, but her passion for southern wines partially stems from her drive to reconnect with her Sicilian roots. Her paternal grandparents emigrated to Pittsburg, California, from Isola delle Femmine.

I spoke with Emilia about her background, life-altering experiences, and what motivated her to launch Cittavino. She also shared career advice for those wishing to pursue a similar path and what she hopes to provide through her wine education.

 

 

Tell us about your professional background.

My experience with wine initially was my experience in restaurants, and I don't see them as different, at least in the first part of my life. I never intended to be in restaurants or wine. Most people fall into it and find that they're good at it. Growing up in my Italian culture, however local it was, I naturally understood how things work in Italy. It gave me a one-up. I was also very curious. I was trying to dance in New York then and support myself with restaurants. I just found I liked learning about wine.

I started bartending. Also, my cousin owns a restaurant here in Oakland, and I started getting interested there, but it was just kind of an interest, not really a career option for me. Then as the restaurant industry does, it definitely sucked me in. One, it's very demanding, and two, it pays your bills.

I started venturing into southern Italy more because there was just less about it and less available, so I wanted to know more. I had already traveled to Italy in college. I took some time off school, which started my interest in the South, and it was just another opportunity to bring it somewhere and have some structure around it.

I took over the wine program at Lupa Osteria Romana. I made it my objective to organize southern Italy like we had organized northern Italy and have more representation.

I could only do so much. Not much was happening in the way of seminars or marketing campaigns. When a marketing campaign for an Italian region makes it to the United States, there's a lot of effort, organization, and money behind it. We're seeing more with Etna, but as a whole consorzio campaign, we're not really seeing it.

So, I started traveling to southern Italy, but specifically with wine as the objective, so I could learn more. I kept learning more. I felt there was space for that kind of information in the wine industry and maybe among consumers. And I did that for a couple of years while working at the restaurant. I worked a harvest, and when I left the restaurant, it happened simultaneously with COVID. I had a lot of time to think.

 

I have Italian citizenship, so I was able to get to Italy during peak pandemic, and I stayed stuck there working a harvest and thinking a lot. I now know what I do to be more niche than I realized. I thought there'd be a little bit more of an audience for it. Within New York and now California, there are two totally different wine consumers, but it started with the restaurant and having to go to the source to understand things. Nobody was coming to me to present me with information or classes or whatever. And while it's changing, I still find that to be true, especially when you look at credentials like master sommeliers and people with higher levels of certifications; nobody specializes in southern Italy—maybe Italy in general, but often it's northern or maybe Tuscany. It's still a bit of a hole.

 

Describe your wine harvesting experience.

That was my first harvest-time experience. I just needed to take a break from work and figure things out, and they let me go for a couple of months. 

When I first started being interested in wine, Mount Etna wines were really coming onto the market. So, I've been able to follow that trajectory. They really started gaining momentum around that time. There was a demand from people asking about them. I also wanted Lupa to be at the forefront, focusing on southern Italy.

 

So I had a bunch of wines, and we were talking about them as if we were talking about other more well-known regions like Barolo, but not really anybody knew what they were talking about. Even just the simplicity of needing to organize it on the wine list, I was like, "Wait a second, we're comparing these two regions, but I don't even know how to put these on the wine list."

People were asking me the difference between these sectors. I had no clue, and here I was supposed to be the professional. So, I went to Etna for my first harvest experience to learn more. And I ended up with Biondi and stayed with them for a few weeks. I just started my journey of being on the ground there and tasting wines with other producers. So, I was able to finally wrap my head around the location.

 

I met an expat who lives there and has become the Etna wine expert. He was also the first to really take an interest in the region in a more analytical or organized way, and we became friends. So, he has been a great resource to me as well.

 

I didn't quite realize how much I was gaining in the moment. I kept asking people about maps. I used to always do that: ask about maps of the region, and sometimes they would be able to give it to me, but in the Etna region, there was nothing to give. So when I went back to the United States, I thought, "Well, I'll do some research online." Nothing was coming up.

 

But that was my moment of being like, "Gosh, I learned so much in just three weeks of being there on the ground, and I get to tell my colleagues so much." I brought back a map of the geology, which everybody was very keen on looking at. I was like, "Interesting. This means something."

That started my trajectory of not just going back to Etna but also the way I approach it now, learning about other regions. I really like to work a harvest or best I can, even if it's not months' worth of time, get some kind of physical movement in there and then just get a little bit more of an inside view with the producer. It's helped me tremendously, not just to gain an understanding of the area but also to understand the human's connectedness to it, why people do what they do, and maybe why we're kind of obsessed with it from afar. So that was incredible. And it was kind of my first adventure into approaching wine that way.

 

What motivated you to start Cittavino?

Probably recognizing when I was working in the restaurant that wines were coming out of the market, but there was not representation in the same way. And then kind of asking myself questions about why and then wanting to find the answers why. So, going there to Italy and starting to talk to more people who actually live there and make wine.

 

I had already planned to take a break from the restaurant, and then the pandemic hit, and I was kind of everywhere. But I just knew that I needed to get back for a harvest because that's where things happened for me. This was also when I started questioning quite a bit.

We still are in this natural wine movement, but at the time it was a new conversation. It'd been a couple of years. We were all still kind of wrapping our heads around it, asking, "Do we like it? What is this?" And I remembered drinking some wines, particularly this one from Calabria, that, as I was reading about it, hit all the criteria of what a natural wine was, but it didn't tout itself as a natural wine. I was like, "What's going on here? I need to go to the source to understand what this is." So I intended to go to Calabria, and then, because of the pandemic, I just ended up spending four months in Calabria. 

It was just a reckoning of my personal life, things happening in my career, and then the pandemic, but I mulled it over a lot. When you're in it, you don't quite realize what you're in.

 

When I got back home, things started circulating quite quickly, and I thought this was valuable to me and may be valuable to others. From the professional side of things, having a lot more information to offer people, the map, and drawing from a consumer side of things, just trying to communicate that inside view people don't get. They could connect with it more because I found for myself how enriching it was to take that time with people, as well as working outside in the vineyards, and how it grounded me. And I was like, "Well, maybe that could be grounding for others, too."

 

We're especially obsessed with wine in place, but do we really know what that means? We're just kind of obsessed with checklists and soil types as if we really know. But we're missing pieces to make it a more rounded experience. I think that about a lot of things, not just wine.

 

I started thinking I could be a resource for southern Italy, a promoter for people who don't have the funds and the Italian system to promote what they do. And there are some really excellent wines that I taste from small producers. So I am working with what you would call more natural (but I also don't like using that term), a certain type of wine that I feel is most connected to the person and the place. And that is my platform; I really only sell a particular type of wine.

Maybe because I've been there and I had the experience, but drinking that type of wine makes me feel a different way than just drinking to drink. That was the whole basis. It's certainly evolved since then. I had a very specific idea of what it was going to be, and it's taken on its own journey for better or worse.

 

I don't know how sustainable it is, but I keep coming back to what keeps me in it: that connection with the people who are making this thing and how important it is to connect with those people. I see it now as a lifestyle because of the wines I end up liking and the people I connect with who have made it their lifestyle. 

Certainly, there's business and finances involved like anything, but for them, it's their entire way of life. Maybe it's just me feeling like I'd like to give back more of that connection to agriculture and that way of life that we've become disconnected from. But that's what keeps me in the game. One could do that with other products and things. I just happen to do it in southern Italy, where I feel most connected, where I started this journey, and where that connection really is for me, that more agrarian kind of lifestyle. 

 

What sets Cittavino apart from other online wine retailers?

The focus, for sure, and the reality is now that, with being so niche, for better or worse, I can represent a lot of one region. With Italy, things are so diverse, and so much is going on. I really like being able to offer that diversity of Lazio, for example. I mean, who has a huge selection of Laziale wines?

 

My platform isn't just about drinking wine. It's trying to engage people on all levels of it and be interested in it, in the person, and in the hope that I'm giving, again, a grounding experience through wine. I'm not sure if everybody's taking it that way, but that's what I'm trying to present. And with this product that I'm giving, there's so much more in it than just your alcohol and grapes; they're charged. It sounds woo-woo, but I really believe it. And I've taken a little bit more of a clear approach to why my palate likes these wines better. And yes, there's kind of a checklist I could go down, but I just keep finding that when people have an entire lifestyle built around what they do agriculturally, their wines taste better.

I keep trying to shoot out different means of getting people to be attracted to that for whatever reason. We're so disconnected, and as we continue to advance in the new age and technology, we're getting further and further away from that. The best way I can pull us back a bit is with wine—farmer wines.

 

What advice would you give someone looking to start a career in the wine industry, especially around less-represented regions?

This might be advice for anybody regardless of what they will do. Again, as I said, things are about money, and we live in a world that constantly shows us that. Especially as we get older, we need to weigh the finances, but there has to be a why greater than just trying to get in something niche, being a figure, and being reputable. There has to be something that connects you and grounds you to what you do beyond that, or else it will get really hard, really fast. And even when it does ground you, you're constantly thinking about the way out, or should I just give this up? You hit those really hard moments. And so what is your purpose beyond money, reputation, whatever? How are you connected to what you're doing in a more fundamental way? Ultimately, what's going to keep you showing up for it?

You are definitely going to have to do things you don't like in anything. At some point, a job is a job, so being able to reconcile a bit of that is not always just going to be fun and creative. The hustle shows up everywhere. So, for me, it's been important, and it changes sometimes, but it's just getting more profound as to why I am even doing this. Would I still do this? If the possibility of making money on it was zero, what parts would I give up, and what parts would I keep? In the wine industry, it feels very glamorous, especially to the outside, and people want to get into it because there are a lot of cool perks to it, but there are a lot of things that are hard as well. And yeah, making sure you're at least along for the journey. That might also be my advice for anybody just starting a business.

 

For underrepresented regions, you're going to have less support. You're going to be doing a lot on your own. Things just come up that you can never anticipate. There's a lot of confrontation of the self for me, especially being alone. I speak Italian, and I am Italian. Still, it's not my native language, and still, every time I go, there's this jolt of getting acclimated again and being in an unfamiliar area culturally, too. It's very clear to me that I'm American when I'm in southern Italy, even if I'm hanging out speaking Italian and speaking wine language and getting comfortable with being uncomfortable. Especially in the places where they are unknown, and you're trying to be a pioneer in them, there's a lot of shooting in the dark and figuring out what your support system is when you go off and do those things alone.

 

What experience do you hope to offer people through your wine education?

I want to open doors for people, and people are traveling a lot now, and wine helps as kind of opening a door. So curiosity, definitely passion, and vigor. If I am just thinking about doing an event, it's getting people energetic again about what they do. And it's not just about listing facts on things; it's bringing in this more rounded human experience. I want people to take away the human experience from whatever it is I do. And if I can transmit that experience just by sending you a bottle, cool. If it's with an event with me, if you're in the wine club, or whatever, it's about trying to create some connectedness between all of us. That would be the best takeaway if somebody felt more curious about what they're purchasing.

 

For me, learning about wine and being with these farmers has totally bled into me. It's now a lifestyle of "I want to go to the farmers market in my local area. I want to meet that person. I want to be curious about what they do and how they do it because that's the closest I'm going to get to my consumption." And we're really missing that in pretty much everything else that we consume or purchase. So, hopefully, they'll have that curiosity and want to connect more.

 

 

 

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Every family has a story. Sometimes, it starts with a name; other times, it begins with an ancestral home. Harder-to-reach family histories require a detective of sorts, someone who can comb through archives and map out complex lineages. 

Genealogist Stephanie Merlino has helped clients uncover Italian familial roots for more than three decades. It all started with her own quest to better understand her Sicilian heritage. This emotional journey led Stephanie to discover her gift for finding connections and decide she could help others.

 

"I'm almost like a savant when it comes to this," Stephanie says. "I can find any family anywhere. As long as the records are available to me, I will find them."

Stephanie and I recently discussed her path to genealogy, her unique approach, her favorite part of the job, and her goal with every genealogical report she produces.

 

What inspired you to become a genealogist?

About thirty-something-odd years ago, I realized that my family wasn't from the United States. I learned just by interviewing my family that we came from Sicily, from a small town—Valguarnera Caropepe—with a very rare surname—Interlicchia. So, I started to look at that surname and its different variations.

 

Back then, we didn't have email and all of this stuff, so I hand-wrote to each person I could find in the phone book in Argentina, Brazil, and Italy. So it just culminated in a process where I started interviewing my grandparents and their siblings, and all this information started flooding in. When I wrote to different people, more information came in. And I was able to connect them all into this gigantic tree of thousands and thousands and thousands of people. 

Once we got Facebook and everything like that, I started to contact some of these people, and I realized that one of my cousins, Vincenzo, still lived in the town we came from. So I went to visit, and he happened to own a bed and breakfast. I ended up staying there, and I would go back there every year for a long period of time. It just became a huge story, and I decided I wanted to help other people.

 

Valguarnera Caropepe photo by Stephanie Merlino

 

How do you approach tracing family lineages?

I start by sending my clients what's called a family and ancestor chart, and I will have them fill it out, and then I will start going backward. So I will start with the information that they gave me. Say they know that Giuseppe Conti was born in 1876 in Aci Trezza. I will go to those archives and pull that record out, and then I am like, "Aha! Now I've got the parents." And I do estimations. I'm saying, "I don't know if this is their first child, second child, or third child, but I'm going to estimate now. We've got their ages. We've got their occupations." So I estimate when they got married.

 

I start going in that direction but backward until I get to the end of the records. I don't just use the direct line. I'll pull out aunts, uncles, kids, everything. It gives you a broader picture than just your straight lineage. I'll even go so far as to find information on the boat your family came over on—where it was built, who built it, how long the journey took, and when your family landed. It all starts with getting as much information from the client as possible. And if they don't have a lot of information, I will go in and try to fill in the gaps. 

Valguarnera Caropepe photo by Stephanie Merlino

What's your favorite part of doing this work?

There's just something about the records; it's like they talk to me. Then there's the satisfaction of seeing the faces of the clients or when they email me, "I didn't realize you were going to go this deep or you were going to get this information."

 

 
Photo by Stephanie Merlino

What is your goal with the work you do?

The overall goal is just to connect people with where they're from. When the people in Italy and Sicily came here, they kept some traditions, but as the generations keep getting watered down, they forget about them. They forget about where they're from, and they forget about why they might act a certain way, why they have this certain tradition in their family that they've kept going, and why those things are so important to their father, their mother, or their grandparent. 

I'm trying to bring more awareness to the younger generations about where they're from because this is a wide world. And America is so far away from Europe and so separated from other places that people really forget. They don't understand the sacrifices their families made to come here and make a better life for them.

As you dive into the records and get into the crux of it all, it's almost like the records start talking to you. They're screaming, "Find me, remember me; I was here once before."

 

 

Family photo courtesy of Stephanie Merlino


 

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Named for their shape and often color resembling oranges, arancini (or arancine) are a classic Sicilian street food with origins dating back to 10th-century Arab rule. These deep-fried rice balls are typically coated with bread crumbs and filled with ragù, mozzarella, and peas, but the components vary regionally. The shape also varies: Whereas in Western Sicily, arancine appear as spheres, they are shaped conically to resemble Mount Etna in places like Catania and Messina. Even the name differs by locale. Eastern Sicilians refer to the individual balls as arancino (masculine), while arancina (feminine) is preferred in the West.

But one Palermo-based company, KePalle Arancine d'Autore, is mixing things up even further, offering menu items such as sweet arancine with Nutella, squid-ink risotto arancine stuffed with salmon, chicken curry arancine, and two vegan arancine options. 

I reached out to co-founder and co-owner Danilo Li Muli, the Palermo-based son of internationally renowned artist Gianni Li Muli and former art director at the advertising agency Gomez & Mortisia. Danilo, who started KePalle Arancine d'Autore with his wife, Eva Polanska, shared with me their inspiration, the process for creating new arancine, the arancina's role in culture, customer favorites, and what he hopes people will take away from experiencing their unique rice balls.

 

What prompted you to create KePalle and focus on reinterpreting traditional Sicilian street food?

Creativity and the desire to innovate. I am a creative by profession: I founded and managed an advertising agency for many years. Then, with my wife, we had this revolutionary idea: dedicating an entire restaurant to the Palermo arancina and offering new flavors (even for those who were previously excluded from tradition), expanding the menu with new gourmet, vegan and vegetarian recipes, and at the same time raising the quality of the product that was generally neglected commercially.

 

How do you develop new arancine flavors and recipes?

Quality is our secret. We choose only the best ingredients: Carnaroli rice, real saffron, Fior di Latte mozzarella, ham from the thigh, Sicilian meat, and seasonal vegetables. And to this, we provide a lot of attention, care, and passion in their preparation. Our arancine are prepared in the kitchen at the back of the shop throughout the day. In our shop, they are fried and served hot and crispy at any time of the day.

 

What role do arancine play in Sicilian cuisine and culture?

Arancina is the queen of Palermo street food. It is a popular and noble product. You can eat it every day as street food for a quick lunch or dinner, but in Palermo, it is also a great tradition to eat arancine for the Feast of Santa Lucia on December 13. December 13 is also KePalle's birthday. Double party for us! 

 

Which arancine flavors are favorites among your customers?

Our customers love all our arancini, probably because they are good! But the real plus is the quality. It is not for nothing that we have called them Arancine d'Autore. Our customers feel the difference and appreciate it.

 

If I really had to rank them, I would certainly put the Eat Parade, the traditional arancine with meat and butter, in first place. They would be followed by the arancine with mushrooms and vegetables loved by vegans and vegetarians and the gourmet ones: Rosalia, the arancine with squid-ink risotto and stuffed with salmon, and the Arancina stuffed with mortadella, buffalo mozzarella, and pistachio grains.

 

Tell us about your vegan arancine and how they compare to traditional ones.

It is important to us to be able to meet the needs of all our customers. Vegans and vegetarians are a very important category for us. We respect their ethics, and that is why we want the tradition of arancine to accommodate their tastes as well. We have several dedicated flavors on our menu, interpreting traditional and new recipes. The most popular are the arancina with mushrooms and porcini mushrooms (also loved by those who are not vegan because it is a real "walking" risotto) and the arancina with a vegetable sauce that interprets the classic meat arancina in a vegan way.

 

Can you share a memorable experience or story related to arancine?

The best memory I have of KePalle is certainly linked to the day of our tenth birthday, last December 13. On this occasion, we wanted the gift not to be destined for us but also for our city. For this reason, we organized a charity initiative, donating all proceeds of St. Lucia's Day (the most conspicuous of the year) to the pediatric hospital of Palermo to purchase important medical equipment for the rare diseases department. Doing good for others makes us feel good, and KePalle is always good for us.

 

How does KePalle preserve and promote Sicilian culinary heritage?

KePalle has revolutionized the tradition of arancini—not in a negative sense, but in a positive sense because we have contributed to enriching and carrying it forward. We have added new recipes that are now part of the city's culinary heritage, but above all, we have enhanced the authentic recipe of arancine.

 

KePalle offers a product of the highest level commercially, equal to what grandmothers and mothers prepare at home and comparable to that of a gourmet restaurant. We use authentic and high-quality products that other competitors did not use before and still do not use today: Carnaroli rice, real saffron, Fior di Latte mozzarella... We have revolutionized the arancini precisely because we have rediscovered it, bringing it to its maximum splendor.

 

What do you hope people experience with your arancine?

Those who come to the store to eat our arancine experience a unique, immersive experience that involves all 5 senses. The authentic location, the visual impact of the counter with the arancine, the scents that are released, the story of the product, and, finally, the wide variety of flavors and recipes. It is a feeling that cannot be described and that can only be experienced. All our customers know this, and you can feel it in their expressions when eating, as well as the satisfaction you can feel in their words and in the thousands and thousands of reviews they leave us.

 

 

 

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Quilting is not a traditional Sicilian craft, yet it's part of Sicilian American quilter Giuseppe Ribaudo's heritage. Threads tie him to Casteldaccia, Sicily, where both sets of his grandparents came from, and West Babylon, New York, where he grew up downstairs from his seamstress maternal grandmother. At the side of her machine, he was first exposed to needlework. He'd watch her sew and mend clothing while his parents worked at his father's restaurant. But he never saw garment sewing as his thing. It wasn't until college that Giuseppe again picked up the needle and embraced another type of sewing: quiltwork.

In all good quilts, each piece of fabric tells a story. But the stories have been a little different for Giuseppe (aka Giucy Giuce), with some tapping into the fantastic like his sci-fi series and others more lurid like his true-crime collection. And then there's his Nonna series, inspired by the decor of his grandmother's home, where he enjoys Sunday suppers to this day.

 

I recently spoke with Giuseppe, who shared more about his grandmother, influences, and unique spin on the craft. 

 

Tell us about your grandmother.

I always say my grandmother was the first feminist I ever knew, and I don't think she even realizes that she is one or was one. She worked at a clothing factory in Long Island. She was by far the most proficient of everybody who was there. 

How have your Sicilian roots influenced you?

My culture has taught me to be really creatively free. I learned a lot from my father, who is a chef. I learned how to cook from him. I've been cooking with him my whole life. I model a lot of how I approach my craft on how my father approaches cuisine. A love of food, a love of presentation, and a love of detail really influenced my work ethic. My father taught me at a really early age to think outside the box. I don't know where that really came from, but it's something that I feel was ingrained in me at a really young age. I could look at things through an American lens and a Sicilian lens at the same time, so I looked at things differently when I thought about how my family looked at them. 

 

Quantum by Giuseppe Ribaudo

 

Describe your first collection, Quantum.

It's a little weird, but it was like a math professor or science teacher who always longed to be an artist. The collection was what that professor would draw and doodle in his journal or sketchbook between grading papers and things like that. And it was like that for me, too. I had wanted to design for a while.

 

My relationship with the fabric company I was working for at the time began with me pitching a fabric collection to them, and then they hired me. I took the opportunity to soak in as much as I could, but I always had this thing in the back of my mind of what I wanted to be doing. And so that collection really began to mold what my aesthetic would end up being, what I liked, and what I was drawn to literally and figuratively in my designs.  

 

There was stuff inspired by DNA strands, and there's this one print called "Petri" that was supposed to be a graphic visual of different samples and Petri dishes and things like that. It was just very mathematical and geometric. I wanted to do line-drawing versions of these scientific ideas I had heard about and learned about throughout my life. 

It's very geometric, and the colors are very tonal. That's still very much part of my work and what I do. My fabrics are designed as tools for the quilts that I create. I'm always thinking of my color palette and adding colors to the broader palette of all of my fabrics.

 

Quantum fabrics by Giuseppe Ribaudo

How has your process evolved?

It's evolved quite a lot. I don't have any formal design training at all, so I'm constantly thinking of an idea and how to translate that. The thing that's been really fun for me as a designer is no two collections have ever been created in the same way because it's always just trying to come up with a creative way to be able to translate the image that I have in my head—whether it be a file on the computer or something hand drawn. I'm always trying to figure out creative ways of making it happen. I have a true-crime collection that I did a couple of years ago. It consists of all these random little elements that I drew and scanned. 

That's why it's continued to be an exciting job for me. I never go into a collection theme without any idea how I will create the end of the artwork. I daydream a lot. I don't sketch much; I write in a journal and list my ideas. So I'll have a theme for a collection, and if I have an image, I'll just write down a word that's descriptive of that image. And if every time I look at that word, that image comes back, then I feel like I'm onto something with it. I'm very cerebral about it, and then it's like, "The artwork is due in two weeks; it's time to actually get to work on the collection!"  And then I'll sit down and actually start working all out. Sometimes, it'll be half done by hand or half on the computer—whatever way gets the work done. But it's always different, which is really fun as a creative person because it always feels fresh. 

Declassified by Giuseppe Ribaudo

Some of your fabrics display text. Can you speak to that?

I do a lot of writing, and I love words and text. People love text prints, so I do a lot of those. I have a collection called Declassified, which is about the government conspiracy to cover up the existence of extraterrestrials. That collection has documents and written testimonials that I synthesized from lots of reading about alien encounters. I wrote them all out, turned them into my own versions of their stories, and then redacted a bunch of information.    

 

Giuseppe Ribaudo's true-crime series, The Gnarls Hollow Trilogy

You enjoy taking people along on your explorations and research.

For sure. I always try to reveal a little bit more about myself as a person outside of the quilting world with each collection. I've done collections before where it was like, "I'm going to do this because it feels like it will be a home run. It feels like people will want it." And those never perform as well as those that really feel like they're authentically something I actually care about and am interested in. For example, the alien one is something I've always been super interested in, and I have stories of encounters. Sci-fi has always been a big inspiration for me, as has true crime. I've always been kind of morbid. I'm a relatively cheerful person, but I've always had this dark bent on what interests me. We have all these different sides to ourselves. 

 

 
Giuseppe Ribaudo's Nonna

Tell us about your Nonna collection.

It was my most personal collection, and it's also my most successful collection. Every element was so specific and personal, and every element had a story behind it. From that collection, I learned that if you have the impulse and the instinct to be personal and make it specific, you should go for it because people will be receptive to that. 

 

That collection also hit at the right time—during the pandemic. A lot of people were feeling really nostalgic for better days. I had also moved to Maine (I'm now back in New York), and I hadn't seen my grandmother in seven or eight months. I'm a good Sicilian boy who goes to my grandmother's house every Sunday for dinner. So it was really, really hard to be away from my grandma for that long.

At that time, you had to be careful about who you were exposed to, and you were getting tested before you went to people's houses. We packed up the apartment, and I knew I couldn't move to Maine without saying goodbye to my grandmother. So we got our tests again.

We went to see my grandmother, and we were having dessert. My grandmother had these beautiful dessert plates, and when she pulled them out, you knew that we were having something special for dessert. So she pulled out these plates, and I was looking at them. I've always loved them. They have this beautiful little cluster of flowers.

I was like, "I would just love to have something like this on fabric. I would just sew with this all day long." Then I turned around and looked at my grandmother's couch with its floral design on it. I thought, "I wonder if there's a fabric collection here."

It hit at exactly the right time. It was what I needed to work on when I left New York. It felt like I was still tethered to home in that way, especially during such a hard time. So, I had the print for the main floral, and the dessert plate turned into its own print. There were these little clusters of flowers that turned into their own print. My grandmother has this huge piece of furniture, a big radio record player thing, and the speakers are lined with this beautiful green and yellow tweed. So, the tweed turned into a print from the collection. 

I blended these very personal, specific things from her house. The idea was mashing up my grandmother's aesthetic with my aesthetic. I wanted it to feel very traditional, but I wanted to bring it into the 21st century and make it feel very now. So, I combined my grandmother's florals and very traditional designs with my geometric symmetrical sorts of things. And it's up there in the best work I've done. 

I remember the first time I showed it to her. I had talked to her ad nauseum about this collection, and I didn't realize that the whole time I was talking to her about the collection, she was designing a collection in her mind. I told her, "I used your plate to design this. I used your couch to do this." So, in her head, she was picturing what that fabric looked like. And so I remember when I actually showed her the fabric, she had this look on her face: What the hell is this? Because it was not what she had envisioned. She thought it was going to be the soft pinks in her house and the creams and all this, but it was bright yellow and navy blue. It was my colors. She was really confused. Then I laid it all out and showed her the quilts that went with it, and now, she really gets it.  

 

Giuseppe Ribaudo's Winding Ways

What do you hope people take from your work?

I try really, really hard to do something different, make it my own, and make stuff for people who may not want to work with a painterly floral all the time. There's space in my industry for the people who are sci-fi geeks and for those who like geometric stuff more than they like flowers and things like that.

 

I'm not breaking new ground. I'm taking the same things that have been there before, but playing with them a different way. So they're text prints, but instead of just being regular text, there's the weird alien sci-fi side to it. They look different than what you're used to. 

I'm very fortunate that I have fabric in shops in Australia, Norway, and all of these places. I take that responsibility really seriously, and I really hope that people see that. I try to push it further. I try to make it so that you're getting something new and different because I'm different.

And so if I was just trying to do more of the same, I don't think I'd still be doing this. Because in the most authentic collections, those are the ones where I've really found the most success. And so I hope that people see that I am trying to do my own thing and that I hope that that inspires other people to do their own thing. We don't have to do everything the way it's always been done.  

Giuseppe Ribaudo with Basement

 

 

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There is much dispute over the origins of almonds. Some say the fruit tree first grew in Central Asia between Iraq, Iran, Turkmenistan, Afghanistan, and Kurdistan or in eastern Asia between Uzbekistan and Mongolia. Others cite botanical and archaeological evidence to point to West Asia, particularly the Levant region. Wherever the almond originated, it clearly spread to the shores of the Mediterranean into northern Africa and southern Europe, including Italy. 

One almond in particular, the Avola almond of Sicily, is highly regarded for its applications in pastry-making and was traditionally sugared for use in wedding confetti. Darker, thinner, and stronger tasting than a California almond, it comes in four varieties: Pizzuta, Fascionello, and Romana or Corrente d'Avola.

 

Sally Giannetti, owner of Florence-based Giannetti Artisans, carries Pizzuta almonds, named for their pointed and sharp profile. She took time out to share more about this unique variety.

 

 

Tell us about Giannetti Artisans and how you got started.

I'm originally from Chicago, where I was born and raised. My parents are both Italian, and they were born in Italy. They emigrated to Chicago about 50 years ago.

My mom always brought me back to Italy when I was a kid because my grandparents were here. So, aside from my family in the United States, I was exposed to the country, the traditions, and the culinary "habits." I grew up speaking Italian in my house. It was my first language. 

I hated coming to Italy when I was younger, but then I started college and majored in international business and Italian. My university offered study abroad programs in Florence. It was required that I do at least one study abroad program in a four-year term. 

So, I came to Florence, fell in love, and said I'd move to Florence after I graduated college, and that's what happened.

After several years of working various sales jobs and making a lot of money for others, I wanted to start my own business and make some money for myself! After giving a business plan a lot of thought, I like the idea of somehow connecting the two countries together: my family origins and my place of birth. I thought food was a great way to do that, and I said, "You know what? In the United States, there isn't real gourmet Italian food. A lot of the products that are on the shelves out there are made in the United States with an Italian flag label on them, and they really aren't Italian." So, I said, "I want to start importing true Italian food."

I created my own label and logo. I started from zero. I was not in this business or this industry. I started online, and I created my website. Then, I was selling on Amazon, which I still do, and it grew slowly. 

I started sourcing from different regions in Italy, and I was very picky about choosing the small artisans. I don't buy any products on the grocery shelves here. I look for small- to medium-sized companies that make small-batch products, and that's what is in my product line. It's all Italian. Nothing is made elsewhere. The ingredients are all 100% Italian.

 

What are Avola almonds?

Avola is where they make wine, so it's a very arid territory. It's near Syracuse, and it's a small town located inland but close to the coastline. There is a huge concentration of almond trees. The particular characteristic of the almonds grown in this area is the fact that they blossom in January. This is because this particular area is a microclimate protected by the mountains and the Mediterranean Sea that keeps the temperature mild-mannered. The soil is extremely dry making the almond production environmentally sustainable since almonds do not need a large quantity of water. A special variety called the "Pizzuta" contains a higher quantity of healthy fat, making it an important protagonist of many nutritional values. It is also famous because years ago, it was used to make the confetti for Italian weddings due to its delicious flavor and physical traits since it has a long and thin oval shape to it. 

The Avola almond (unlike the California almond, which contains a lesser quantity of oils and tends to taste rather bland) contains a high concentration of oils. 

 

How else do Avola almonds differ from California almonds?

Obviously, the quantity makes the difference, even in price, because California almonds are easier to get and have a higher production quantity. California almonds are used more for mass production, whereas Avola varieties are used more specifically for making pastries and small-batch products.

 

The taste is very strong, whereas with a Californian almond, it is a bit more bland. It certainly doesn't leave you with that nutty flavor that the Sicilian one does. Some people don't like it because they're used to a more gentle-flavored almond. 

 

 
Sicilian almond granita

How is the Avola almond used?

In Italy, they use it to make pastries. There's a drink that is made during the summer, chilled almond milk, and it's made at the bar. Or they make a granita using Sicilian almonds and adding sugar to it. Sometimes, they toast the almonds; sometimes, they don't, depending on what it is used for. The more you toast them, the stronger the flavor is. They use it to make marzipan and gelato.

 

Fruit-shaped marzipan (frutta martorana) on display in Acireale 

What do you hope people appreciate about Avola almonds?

I think the taste—they have a very distinct flavor. Like I said, not everyone likes them if they're used to a bland-tasting almond.

This is the reason why I started this business. If you purchase chestnut flour from a grocery store anywhere in the United States, it won't have the same taste as the chestnut flour that I sell, for example.

What is done in processed foods with these large mass-production companies is that they don't dry or roast the fruits on wood embers but rather in huge industrial ovens. Nuts are dried in these ovens for 8 or 10 hours rather than on wood embers for 40-plus days. The processing method makes the difference. Large multinational companies need to cut their costs and produce high quantities. It makes the product cheaper and perhaps of lesser quality, but it also takes away the authentic taste of that nut or fruit.

 

If you taste some of my chestnut flour, it has a strong smoky taste as opposed to flour purchased off the grocery store shelf that tastes just like plain flour! A lot of people's palates are not accustomed to such a different flavor because most food in the United States has a standardized production method, making everything taste just about the same. 

 

The same rule applies to almonds. If you're used to eating processed foods, your palate becomes accustomed to those limited flavors; when you taste a Sicilian almond, it's strong, nutty, and just delicious. 

 

Hopefully, people will appreciate something different from their palate's "comfort zone." Those who have been exposed to authentic Italian goods will know what they're looking for, which is exactly what my business is all about.

 

 

 

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Driven by a goal of bringing Sicily's flavors and traditions to every table, Salvatore Pluchino left a career in aerospace to launch Seligo, a Brooklyn-based Sicilian food brand. Specializing in Sicilian-crafted extra virgin olive oil and unrefined pasta and chocolate, he also collaborates with gourmet shops across the U.S. to organize what he calls "pasta-making parties." The majority of these are held in New York's Catskills region. Also in the works: food and wine tours in Sicily.

"Seligo was the answer to my need to stay connected with Sicily and to share the incredible richness of Sicilian culture with others," says Salvatore.

Salvatore shared how he got started, what inspired his unrefined, traditional approach, what goes into product selection, his focus on sustainable sourcing, his plans for the future, and more.

 

 

What is your connection to Sicily?

Sicily is home and family. I am Sicilian. I was born there and spent most of my life there, and I go back whenever possible, always trying to savor different seasons. At some point, I quit my career in aerospace engineering to build a brand that would talk about Sicily and my roots. Everything I do in my life ultimately brings me back to Sicily. It's a bond so strong that it's difficult to explain in a few words, even though I now have a second home and life in New York. I always like to compare Sicily to a benevolent mermaid that attracts me, and I reject it once I get too close. When people ask about my origin, I reply that I'm Sicilian, and people often point out that I say this instead of simply saying I'm Italian. Their curiosity about the clear distinction I always point out has made me reflect deeply on my identity.

 

What inspired you to start Seligo and focus on unrefined, traditional Sicilian foods?

At a certain point in my life, I realized that food was the most effective way to share my vision of Sicily beyond its borders. Starting a brand like Seligo also made me extremely happy and helped me stay loyal to my principles. Culinary traditions are the pillars of the Sicilian lifestyle, and every aspect of life revolves around the family table.

 

The concept of unrefined food emerged when I was immersed in New York's innovative food culture. I was surrounded by many food entrepreneurs who wanted to create something new and revolutionary because there was a sense of betrayal in the food industry in general. My intuition was suggesting that I had to walk on a different path, almost opposite. In that context, I began by looking back on Sicilian gastronomic history and traditional products. 

Unrefined food sounds like an innovation, but in reality, it's just a treasure from our past. At that time, I was lucky enough to find amazing people in Sicily who were already pointing in that direction, making artisanal food products that I started to call "unrefined" because they respect certain criteria. They are not processed but rather gently transformed or minimally processed.

 

 Seligo's unrefined pasta

How do you select the specific ingredients and products featured on Seligo?

Everything starts with meeting the right people—producers committed to their work and prioritizing quality above all else. The meaning of quality is often confusing, but it becomes clear when producers eagerly show the origin of their raw ingredients, especially when they're involved in producing those ingredients themselves. Another key indicator is their knowledge of how their products will affect consumers' health. In that context, it's easy to team up with them and change some details to make a product even more unique and palatable, but always unrefined and traditional. For example, the choice of making the unrefined heirloom Sicilian chocolate in cubes instead of bars was a winning one. The grainy texture and roughness of the bar were making people skeptical. The cube, instead, made the product easier to approach, appreciate, and fun to eat.

 

 

Seligo chocolate cubes

What are the sustainable practices you employ in sourcing and producing products?

Since our inception, I've focused on sustainable practices, beginning by observing and learning from farmers, artisanal cheesemakers, and fishermen who consistently prioritize local, seasonal, and eco-friendly practices. They are the pillars of the Sicilian local food culture, and in some cases, they don't even realize they're following sustainable practices; they're simply following traditional methods in which the customer's appreciation and well-being take precedence over profit.

 

Sicilian food culture helps preserve the region's natural resources and distinctive culinary identity. With Seligo, I'm just following a path that started hundreds of years ago, and I'm learning to preserve more than innovate. Of course, there are products like extra virgin olive oil, whose quality has increased dramatically in the last decade thanks to technological innovations. In that case, brave producers have made huge investments, which has been a game-changer for the small artisanal productions, especially in the southeastern part of Sicily, where Seligo's extra virgin olive oil (EVOO) is made.

 

Seligo 100% Extra Virgin Olive Oil

What distinguishes your unrefined chocolate, pasta, and extra virgin olive oil from similar products on the market?

The answer lies in the word "unrefined." This explanation may be somewhat technical, but understanding these details is crucial for making informed choices about the food we decide to eat. 

As I mentioned, in New York, I was surrounded by numerous new food brands whose common priority was manipulating and mixing ingredients, mostly plant extracts, to create something new when, in most cases, nature has already created everything we need. 

For our heirloom pasta, the innovation was actually returning to the time when flour was simply made with ground wheat kernels, and nothing was removed. There was no bleaching and no GMO manipulation of the plants to change the gluten composition. Similarly, with our chocolate, there's no need for refining processes like tempering or additions to stabilize the product. Actually, what the industry has done was to deprive chocolate of an incredible quantity of nutrients that made cacao in the past a superfood. So, I'm giving back to Seligo's heirloom pasta and the unrefined chocolate the name they deserve. They are natural superfoods.

EVOO is somehow a special case. Because it is the ultimate unrefined product: juice extracted from olives at a very low temperature, in which the water has been removed. It's essentially a healthy potion with powerful nutrients concentrated in just a few tablespoons per day. EVOO must be protected from UV light and oxygen, so technological advancement and investment are very important.

 

How do the products offered by Seligo reflect Sicily's cultural and culinary traditions?

Sicilian cuisine is, above all, simple but the result of a complex and long evolution. Few people know Sicily's history as part of powerful kingdoms and empires that shaped the incredible depth of Sicilian culinary culture. Kings demanded that sophisticated cuisine be made with refined ingredients. From there, the common people developed their own humble recipes, often substituting meat with fried vegetables. It's a mixture of recipes originally created for royalty but perfected by the people for the people. In a way, Sicilian people have always found their freedom through food.

 

Salvatore Pluchino prepares pasta for Seligo event guests.
Photo by Joann Arruda.

How do you engage with local communities?

In the past 5 years, I've collaborated on events with wonderful gourmet shops that carry my products. They are scattered all over the U.S., but the majority of them are in New York State, mostly in the Catskills region. There's a strong sense of community there, and these establishments are becoming nodes in a larger network. People rely on them to find local products and trustworthy producers. I've started organizing intimate culinary events to demonstrate simplicity is key to a healthy lifestyle.

 

What are your future plans?

First, we're expanding our product selection. While this could be done quickly, we're taking our time to maintain quality standards. Second, we're developing food and wine tours in Sicily for small groups to showcase aspects that others haven't been able to reveal. I admire people from around the world who show interest in Sicily; we need this attention to promote our resources and boost our small economy. However, it takes a lifetime to understand Sicily and its people, and even then, one might fail to fully recognize the beauty and richness of the culture. I've taken the risk of failing, but I'm committed to this journey of living Sicilian authenticity and sharing it with others. A big help in this direction will come from my brother, who has been successfully promoting a slower way to visit and experience Sicily through bike tourism. In collaboration with his business, Sicily Bike Routes, we will start offering tours in 2025.

 

Seligo hosts food events in New York's Catskills region and beyond.

What experience do you hope customers and event attendees will take away?

I hope people will understand that daily cooking isn't something to delegate to others. It's the first act of self-love, beginning with the knowledge of proper ingredients. We can't rely solely on

the food industry, as it's primarily driven by profit. I know that may offend someone, but in the majority of cases, that is the truth. We must learn to connect with local farmers and artisanal makers, ask them questions, and learn from their perseverance and honesty, especially when the food industry pushes them toward different practices for profit's sake. As we say in Italy, "We have to put our hands in the dough" and make our own food. Through all of Seligo's initiatives, I'm humbly showing people that cooking can be fun and a great way to build new, long-lasting memories, which may be the most important in our lives.

 

 

 

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December was a busy month in the kitchen as my mother baked her way through all of her Sicilian cookie specialties. Come Christmas, we'd wrap up our finished batches and bring them to my aunt and uncle's home, where they'd be added to a nearly overflowing tray of classic holiday Sicilian confections.

 

One of the prettiest among these was the pizzelle, a thin and delicate waffle cookie dusted in powdered sugar and made with a hint of anise extract.

 

Produced in the Abruzzo region of Italy since the 15th century, this cookie, alternatively known as ferratelle, nevole, or catarrette, is also enjoyed in Sicily. The region, historically known as Abruzzi, was, after all, once part of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies, so it's no wonder there are shared recipes.

 

I recently stumbled on Maria Vannelli's blog, She Loves Biscotti, where I found a pizzelle recipe. Maria's recipe looks just like the cookie I remember, but with a twist: it's plant-based. The Montreal-based dietician and content creator developed this vegan recipe for her daughter so that she, too, could enjoy Christmas cookies.

 

Maria shared her background, her favorite Italian Christmas memories, and the special significance of this recipe. Among her recipe development goals is making recipes more accessible so everyone can share holiday traditions through food.

 

 

Tell us about your background.

I was born in Montreal, Canada. My dad was born in Ripabottoni, Campobasso, in the Molise region of Italy, while my mom hails from Molinara, Benevento, in the Campania region. Both emigrated to Montreal, Canada, in the early 1950s, where they met, married, and raised a family. My dad owned an Italian grocery store, and my mom was a homemaker, which fueled my fascination with food and ultimately led me to become a dietitian. As the eldest of three, I grew up speaking Italian and had the privilege of living with my paternal grandparents, which deepened my connection to my Italian heritage.

 

What kinds of foods and recipes left a lasting impression?

I have countless "food memories" tied to family gatherings, making it challenging to pinpoint my favorites. Sunday lunches were particularly special, always filled with love, laughter, and a sprinkle of family drama, with homemade cavatelli as a staple that beautifully represented my nonna's Italian traditions. It is still my favorite pasta to this day.

The excitement and preparations for holidays like Easter and Christmas also left a lasting impression, with an abundance of mouthwatering food prepared from scratch! Whether it was my mom's lasagna or her homemade cannelloni, every dish was a labor of love.

Living with my grandparents meant our home was always open and inviting to extended family and friends. At least once a week, I would come home from school to find a great aunt or uncle visiting. This often meant a delightful spread of biscotti and Italian cookies—an amazing after-school snack and probably where my obsession with Italian cookies began.

 

Did your family bake Italian cookies for Christmas?

Yes, my mom and nonna baked a variety of Italian cookies for Christmas! Some of my favorites include almond biscotti, struffoli, chiacchiere, pizzelle, and mostaccioli, Christmas Eve fritters, and chestnut cookies, also known as calzoni di castagne. Each cookie brought its unique flavors and textures to our holiday celebrations. My mom would also make beautiful Christmas baskets filled with these cookies to share with family and friends.

 

Do you have any special memories attached to Italian Christmas foods?

Absolutely, I have so many special memories attached to Italian Christmas foods! One of my favorites is the time spent in the kitchen "baking" with my mom and nonna, especially when they would make pizzelle. They made ferratelle one at a time with a stovetop pizzelle press with long handles. 

 

Watching them work their magic was such a joy, and I can vividly remember eating the pizzelle faster than they could make them! Those moments were filled with laughter and the delightful aroma of these freshly baked treats, creating memories I'll always cherish.

 

Did your family observe Italian Christmas traditions?

Yes, my family certainly embraced Italian Christmas traditions. In the days leading up to Christmas Day, the kitchen was a lively hub of activity, with my mom and nonna bustling about, baking and making homemade pasta as they prepared for the big meal.

On Christmas Day, we would begin by attending Mass, which set a meaningful tone for the festivities. Afterward, the final touches for our festive meal would continue, with everyone pitching in to ensure everything was just right. Once the main meal was served and enjoyed, we waited for more of the extended family to visit. While we waited, there was always a spirited game of Scopa, adding to the day's excitement. Finally, we would indulge in homemade desserts and fruit platters.

These family traditions on Christmas Day created lasting memories for me. Although many loved ones, including my mom and dad, are no longer with us, we continue to cherish those wonderful memories as we celebrate with my brother, sister, and their families.

Being the eldest, my family now hosts Christmas, and I take great pride in continuing the traditions by making some of the traditional foods my mom and nonna would prepare. It's a way to honor their legacy and keep our family heritage alive. 

Inevitably, as we gather around the table, a story is shared—whether it's a food memory of past celebrations or a humorous anecdote from our family history. These stories add warmth and connection to our celebrations, reminding us of the love and joy that has always been at the heart of our Christmas gatherings. 

For the younger ones, these "stories" serve as a bridge to their heritage, connecting them to their great-grandparents and great-great-grandparents they never had the chance to meet. It's a beautiful way to keep our family history alive and instill a sense of belonging in each generation.

 

Mara cools her pizzelle on a rack to ensure they stay crisp.

 

Tell us about your pizzelle recipe. How is it similar or different from the traditional recipe?

My daughter's journey into veganism inspired my vegan pizzelle recipe. I wanted her to continue enjoying one of her favorite Italian cookies, so I adapted my nonna's traditional recipe.

Seeing her joy when she tasted these vegan pizzelles for the first time was such a heartwarming moment! This recipe combines my family's traditions and her dietary choices. After some experimentation, I found that using flaxseed creates a batter with just the right consistency, giving the pizzelles a wonderfully crisp texture without any vegan butter.

The intricate patterns that pizzelles are known for come out beautifully in this vegan version, thanks to a well-heated pizzelle press. These vegan pizzelles keep our Italian traditions alive while being perfect for plant-based diets, making it easy to enjoy this cookie together!

 

Does this recipe have special significance to you?

These vegan pizzelles hold special significance for me because they help keep our Italian family recipes alive while being perfect for plant-based diets. It means so much to enjoy this beloved cookie together as a family!

Christmas is a time for baking special cookies and treats, and pizzelles are classic Italian waffle cookies that many families make during the holiday season. By adapting this recipe, I can honor our family's culinary heritage while ensuring that everyone can partake in the joy of baking and sharing these delicious cookies. It's a wonderful way to connect with our traditions and create new memories together!

 

What is your goal when developing recipes like this?

With my pizzelle recipe, I hope at-home bakers will see that it's possible to honor tradition while accommodating different dietary needs. I want them to feel inspired to get creative in the kitchen and adapt cherished recipes to fit their lifestyles, just like I did for my daughter.

My goal in developing recipes like this is to bring people together through food, making it accessible and enjoyable for everyone. Cooking and baking should be a joyful experience filled with love and connection. By sharing this vegan pizzelle recipe, I hope to encourage others to create their own special moments and memories around the table, celebrating both tradition and creativity!

  

Maria Vannelli aka @SheLovesBiscotti

>>Get Maria's recipe for vegan pizzelle cookies here!<<

 

 

 

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I was just a little girl the first time my nonna pulled out a deck of cards to show me how to play a game called Scopa. We'd visit every Sunday, so I could always look forward to another after-supper game. Memories of playing it inspired a few scenes in my first novel. 

The game's name comes from the Italian word for broom, as the winner gets to sweep all the cards from the table. And unlike a standard deck, these are slightly reminiscent of the tarot with 40 cards, divided into four suits: denari (coins), coppe (cups), spade (swords), and bastoni (clubs).

Cards display values between one and seven with four face cards rounding out eight through ten: fante (the knave), which is worth a value of eight; cavallo (the knight) in the Neapolitan-type deck or donna (the queen) in the Milanese-type deck, which are both worth nine; and re (the king), which is worth ten.

Many of these decks, which vary regionally, are richly illustrated and have become collector items. I recently had a chance to see several styles shared by Toronto-based Tony Costa, who took time out with Joseph Cafiso of Woodbridge, Ontario, for a discussion on all things Scopa.

Both are members of Toronto-based Villa Charities, an organization dedicated to enriching lives through experiences and services that honor Italian culture and heritage. Tony serves as vice chair, and Joseph is a member of the Cultural Advisory Group. Both men are Italian-born. Tony emigrated with his parents as a young boy from Calabria, while Joseph came from Ragusa, Sicily. They shared the game's objective with me and how it ties them to their Italian identities.

 

 

How did you start playing Scopa?

Tony: Card playing was part of what my family did when my friends and relatives would visit. It was done mostly in the wintertime, and it wasn't really done throughout the summer because the summer had other activities. Throughout my adolescence, we would play; I only started playing poker and all the other stuff later in life.

But I grew up with Scopa, Briscola, and Tresette. People played for beverages. Whoever won the game would get a glass of wine, for instance, or a bottle of beer. Some people would never win and weren't even allowed to drink water. That was part of the game. You had to win to drink something. So that's how I grew up with it.

Italian cards are similar but yet distinct by region. You can travel throughout Italy and find different types of cards. I've collected 10 regional versions. When I met my wife and started going to her place, for instance, my late father-in-law used to play with the Milanese ones, so I had to learn those cards when we started playing. When I was traveling fairly often, whenever I saw a new set that I hadn't seen, I would purchase it for my collection.

Joseph: I was in my early teens when I learned with my grandparents. We used to have a farm that we'd go to in the summer, and we spent the evening playing by the moonlight in the early '60s.

Later, I played with my friends. I don't play it as often anymore, but it's interesting how I have two boys, and my boys know how to play it, even though they were born and raised in Canada. They played with their friends at school.

I used to be a teacher, and at this particular school, about 20% of the student population was of Italian origin, so we organized Scopa tournaments. I was amazed by the number of people who loved to play, and they used to play just for fun.

Now, if I play, it will be with my peers. We play it at Christmas time, usually when we get together to play Tombola, the Italian version of Bingo, and other card games.

 

What is the objective of the game?

Tony: Basically, you're going for four points. The way you do that is everybody gets three cards, and four cards are put on the table. If you have a card like the four, and there's a four on the table, you can take that card. Once you get through the three cards, you take another three. Or you can do combinations; in other words, if there's a two and a four on the table and you have a six, you can take your six and pick up the two and the four together.

If there happens to be only one card left on the table and you happen to have that card, let's say there's a four on the table and you have a four in your hand, you can take the four, and that becomes a Scopa. That's a point in and of itself. And hence the name of the game, Scopa.

You're trying to accumulate as many of the denari as possible because one of the points goes to the individual who accumulates most of these denari cards. That's one. The second thing you want to do is try to get the seven of denari, which is a point in and of itself. So whoever accumulates that seven gets a second point. The third point goes to the one who has the most cards picked up. The fourth point is something they call a primera, a combination of four cards with an inherent value to each card. You have to put together your four highest cards, one of each suit. You can't have more than one of each suit. And whoever has the highest value in those four cards gets the fourth point.

I've seen some games where you get five or six plus your four points, and the game doesn't last very long because it's up to 11 points.

Joseph: Some people play to 11. I've known people who play up to 15. For some reason, it has to be an odd number.

 

How does Scopa connect you to your culture?

Joseph: It started as part of family recreation, a way to get together and stay together. Nowadays, we have so-called family games, whether it's Monopoly or Risk or other games, and you still have Checkers and so on. Playing cards goes back centuries. But for me personally, it's just a way of being together with friends and family and having a good time because when you play, you also talk about all kinds of things. You talk about food, the weather, and relations. I mean, you joke around, you tease one another. It's a way to connect, be together, and strengthen bonds between friends and family.

Tony: Once in a while, I'll take out the cards. I have three daughters, three sons-in-law, and a bunch of grandkids. My daughters and I have played since they were little, but now I've introduced it to my non-Italian sons-in-law, who enjoy it. And some of my grandchildren are also starting to play it. So it's a way of keeping our culture—one small thing within our culture, but it's an important one, similar to our food. This is one of our pastimes.

 

What advice would you give someone new to the game?

Tony: Enjoy its simplicity because it isn't a very difficult game to play. We had a get-together at Villa Colombo, where some people had never even seen a deck of cards of this nature. Within one session, they understood the game, and they were able to participate. Now, mind you, they needed some help, but by the time that second and third evening came, they needed no more lessons; they were squaring off with the best of us who had played before. So enjoy it as an opportunity to be with other people. Don't take it seriously.

Scopa is a good beginner's game; you can pass hours and hours. People gravitate to this because it doesn't require money. It doesn't require you to buy expensive equipment. You just need a deck of cards. You have hours and hours of fun for a couple of bucks in a day.

Joseph: It's a social game, and it has that way of putting people together, especially for people who live alone or don't have family or too many friends. It is a great way to meet people. And without any pressure, financial or otherwise, you can have a good time and have a few laughs. 

 

 

 

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Looking for a healthier take on a Sicilian cookie classic? Consider this vegan version of cuccidati from Christina Pirello of PBS's Christina Cooks: Back to the Cutting Board. Christina uses olive oil and coconut sugar to replicate traditional shortbread. The result? A guilt-free holiday indulgence to add to your dessert platter. 

 

Christina, who celebrates her birthday on December 22, has fond memories of her mother and nonna baking cuccidati and other Christmas cookies starting the day after Thanksgiving. She shared with me the secret to her twist on tradition, what this cookie means to her, essential Sicilian baking ingredients, and her goal with recipe development. 

 

Describe your cuccidati recipe. How is it different from the traditional recipe?

I love this recipe. It's different in that it's vegan. The original dough is made with eggs and butter to create a shortbread-like dough, whereas mine is made with olive oil and coconut sugar to achieve a tender dough that you can roll. And I don't decorate them with sprinkles, so I guess I break all the rules.

 

Does this recipe have special significance to you?

My whole family loved figs. My nonno had a fig tree that was so abundant that we could not use them fast enough. My husband and I love figs as well, so this is a lovely way to honor my nonno and still make a sweet and healthy dessert.

  

What are the essential ingredients for baking Italian or Sicilian, specifically?

Good flour (in my case, sprouted whole wheat, but in Italy, I use farro flour), extra virgin olive oil, pine nuts, hazelnuts, almond and vanilla extract, and orange water.

 

What is your goal when developing recipes like this?

My goal for baking is the same as my goal for cooking. I want people to think differently about food. I want people to discover the true joy of cooking for themselves and creating dishes that their loved ones can't wait to eat. And most importantly, helping people realize that cooking is simple and easy when you use fresh ingredients. Nothing beats home cooking.

 

With baking, I hope people see how easy it is to create deserts that nourish us, satisfy our sweet tooth, and don't steal our wellness.

 

>>Get Christina's cuccidati recipe here!<<

 

 

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The time has come: the season for baking holiday cookies! If you're looking for a uniquely Sicilian cookie recipe, consider the cuccidati. Also spelled cucidati and sometimes called buccellati, these gooey, chewy cookies are a favorite this time of year and tend to appear on St. Joseph Day altars. Reflecting the Arab influence on Sicily's foods and culture, they are typically filled with dried figs, nuts, and citrus. Their pastry-dough exterior is often covered in icing and topped with rainbow sprinkles for a colorful pop to Italian cookie platters. 

To learn more about making cuccidati, I reached out to Dave Costanza, who won first place in November's twelfth annual Cucidati Contest. The event, organized by the Sons & Daughters of Italy, C. Colombo Lodge 1315, in Pittsburg, California, raises funds for scholarships. Using a blind taste test, judges rate cookies on appearance, texture, filling, and dough. 

While Dave has entered a handful of times, this was his first top-prize win. The Antioch, California, resident was born in Pittsburg, where his Sicilian grandparents emigrated from Isola delle Femmine in the Palermo Province. 

Dave took time from his busy holiday cookie and ravioli preparation to discuss his award-winning recipe and technique with me. We were joined by Zelda LeFrak-Belleci, who not only serves as the chairman of the Cucidati Contest judging committee but also teaches how to bake the classic cookies.

 

 

How did you start making cuccidati?

Dave: I have a cousin who was a cook in the army. One day, I met him at a funeral, and we got to talking. He took me to his house and showed me how to make cuccidati. From there, I put my personal touch on the recipe. 

 

Zelda: You have to learn from somebody; like when I married into the family, my mother-in-law taught me in her kitchen how to do cuccidati. And she brought me over to show me how to make ravioli. That's how it's done.

 

I decided I would have a cuccidati cooking class. So, for the past three contests, I've offered a cooking class in my kitchen a month ahead of time.

 

What are the key ingredients?

Dave: Raisins, some kind of nuts, lots of figs. The local store here has bulk dates; when you buy them in the package, they add something, so I only used dried bulk ingredients. I add whiskey and rum and let the filling sit in the refrigerator for months at a time. 

 

What is the secret to a winning cookie?

Dave: Grind the filling up just right. I use a food-grade caulking gun. I load up the caulking gun with the filling and draw a perfect bead down the center.

 

What memories do you have of cuccidati?

Dave: I remember them lying around at Christmas time. But I wasn't a big fan until I started making them because my grandmother never made them really well. I was never a big sweets person, but I came around. 

 

Dave Costanza's award-winning cuccidati. 

 

What do you hope to share with the next generation?

Dave: My daughter-in-law helped us make them for the contest. It is a family tradition to make the ravioli and the cuccidati together. We start horsing around once we get through making the cuccidati and the ravioli.

 

Zelda: It is an opportunity to share Italian culture and come together over food. It's a family event that happens to raise money to help young people expand their horizons and give them an opportunity to go to college. 

 

 

 

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Opened in 1996 by the late Giovanni and Carolina Scordato, Scordato Bakery is one of the few Milwaukee bakeries serving specialties like Sicilian cookies, cannoli, bread, and sfinciuni. 

But it wasn't always that way.

"When we first opened the bakery, there were so many Italian bakeries," says Scordato Bakery Vice President Antonella Scordato-Lorenz. "Now, there are hardly any left. It is hard work, and it's not easy. So, I'm not surprised that there are not a ton of traditional bakeries left in Milwaukee, but we are proud that we're one of them."

I recently had the opportunity to chat with Antonella and her brother, Alessandro Scordato, who serves as the bakery's president. The siblings shared their background, what goes into a typical day at Scordato, their favorite menu items, ways they ensure authenticity, advice for those interested in running a bakery, and more. 

 

Your family is from Sicily. Tell us how Scordato got its start in Milwaukee.

Alessandro: Our parents married in Bagheria. Our dad came first in his early twenties. He started working at his uncle's bakery, Peter Sciortino Bakery. Our mom came a few years later, and they were here until 1980. We moved back to Italy for a few years, between 1985 and 1987. But they decided to move back to Milwaukee, and our dad and his friend decided to open up their own bakery called Roma Bakery in the Bay View neighborhood.

They had that for a few years. Then, our dad sold his partnership to his partner, Sal, and decided to open his own place with our mom in 1996. That's how we ended up with Scordato Bakery at our current location. We've been there ever since. 

 

Antonella Scordato-Lorenz and Alessandro Scordato

What kind of influence did your Sicilian upbringing have on you?

Antonella: I think it was just more about our parents' work ethic than anything. I guess it's just making sure we're keeping the tradition alive and keeping the roots of the types of things that we grew up with, the pastries, food, and things like that.

 

Tell us about your experience taking over the bakery in 2019.

Antonella: Our mom passed away in 2000, and then it was the three of us, my brother and I, with our dad. My brother's son, Giovanni, came to work at the bakery when he was old enough, and later, our stepmom, Irina, joined us. Our dad kind of retired even though he was there almost every day. 

It was hard to keep him at home. He worked his whole life and enjoyed what he did, speaking to customers and having a presence in the store. And he lived just a few blocks away, so he was never the type to just stay at home and watch TV. He was always hands-on. 

Alessandro: Before our dad actually got sick, his body was starting to age, telling him, "No," but he still wanted to be there. So he would come in, not work as much as he did before, but he was around. But my sister and I took over.

We worked there pretty much our whole lives, and I did some other work when I was a teenager, but I always helped out in the store, so I got used to the hours and the work and everything little by little. Over time, it was just part of both of our lives, so it wasn't that difficult. 

Our dad was always there to point us in the right direction if need be. So, once he was gone, I think our main focus was always to maintain the work ethic he instilled in us, keep quality a top priority, and just keep the legacy going. And it felt good to be able to do that and keep going in that direction.

Antonella: After he passed in 2019, it was almost like it lit a fire under us. I remember that for years, our dad always talked about how we should remodel the store and make improvements to the business. And we're just like, "Yeah, that's a good idea."

Then, after he passed, both of us decided we were going to remodel the store. We're going to not reinvent things because we wanted to keep everything the same, but it was really nice just to kind of execute that vision that he had of redoing the store and making it look so much nicer. And it actually really helped grow our business even more, which was crazy how much just remodeling the store would've made a difference. But we've just been busy and steady ever since with just our regular customers.

Alessandro: We have a really good customer base. They're really loyal, and they've always supported us year after year, so they've been a big part of our success.

 

What's a typical day at Scordato Bakery?

Alessandro: I start around one or two in the morning and do all the bread and roll orders for the store and delivery.

Antonella: We have the wholesale accounts that we bake for and different restaurants in the area, and then we have to make bread and rolls for the store, of course. 

Alessandro: After that, I just start on whatever cookies we need to make for that day and other items like banana bread or pizza crust or calzone, stuff like that. So I get done around 11. Then, my sister works in the afternoon, and she closes and takes care of any cakes or other pastries.

Antonella: We do a lot of weddings, especially in the summer and September into the fall. We do a lot of sweet tables, wedding cakes, and regular cakes. Those are things that I take care of along with the hiring and payroll. We do the inventory, making sure everything is stocked.

We're really lucky. We have really great employees. We're so lucky to have so many of our employees with us for over two decades. We're in a really good community. We're more like a close family.

 

Alessandro: The work is ongoing; it never stops. You never really get to punch out when you run your own business. So if we're not at the bakery, we're going to Sam's Club or getting inventory or Restaurant Depot. There are always certain things to take care of other than at the bakery. So it keeps us busy.

Antonella: Our busiest time of year is the holidays and then a little bit into January. So we try to close for a week or so sometime in January when we're finally caught up, and things are slowing down so we can give everybody a well-deserved break. 

Next year, we'll be closed for two weeks in the summer so we can spend some time with our family in Sicily. It's really hard for either of us to get away unless the bakery's actually closed. It's not like a company where we can just punch out, and I can't relax or even think about enjoying a vacation if the store's open. So it's like we've got to close in order to relax and enjoy ourselves.

 

Scordato cookies are a holiday favorite.

What are your favorite items on the bakery's menu and why?

Antonella: I still obsess over cookies, especially the more traditional ones like the tutu and the Sicilian rainbow cookies. Our cannoli, especially the chocolate, are always so good. 

Alessandro: We'll always have cannoli when we're feeling a little nostalgic or homesick for Sicily.

 

Antonella: Or the sfinciuni; I still eat that on the regular. We make it every day. We'll just cut it up and put it in the back so everybody can munch on it. 

When we're on vacation and closed, I always miss our bread and rolls. You won't be able to find that nice crispy bread that we have. I look forward to coming back, making another batch, and having a nice hot sandwich on bread right out of the oven.

 

Alessandro: One of my favorites is what our dad used to do: a mini Italian loaf right out of the oven, still hot. You just slice it down the middle. You add some extra virgin olive oil, some Romano cheese, and maybe a little bit of tomato. I eat it right out of the oven, and the texture when you first bite it, with that crispiness on the crust, is just one of a kind.

 

Tell us more about your sfinciuni.

Antonella: It's a traditional sfinciuni outside of the fact that the one we make for the store doesn't have anchovies. We make it without anchovies because it's not as popular here. 

Ours has a traditional thick, spongy crust. It has tomato sauce, oregano, grated Romano cheese, and spices. It's just like a meatless room-temperature pizza. 

We do make it with anchovies on order, but we don't typically sell it in the store. Even though it's traditional, it's not as popular that way.

 

Alessandro: It's a tradition in Sicily. Each family makes its own sauce with caramelized onions. Some people use the traditional primo sale cheese.

Antonella: It's what you put into the dough before you bake it in the oven. Before you put your sauce on, you make the dough, you lay it out, and then you push the primo sale into the dough. We don't make it that way for the store because it's expensive and hard to find here.

Alessandro: We've had to change it up a little bit. But the way that we make it turns out really good, especially with the Romano cheese mixed in with the breadcrumbs and the olive oil on top. 

I prefer it the day after in the toaster oven, or I just throw a slice from the day before directly on the oven shelf and crisp it up. It gets this really nice crunchy taste on the outside, but it still has that sponginess on the inside.

We don't use pizza dough; we use bread dough, and that's the only way you can get that really thick spongy size on the crust. If you use regular pizza dough, then you're just going to end up with a thinner, denser crust. So if you want that nice, thick kind of pan style, you use the bread dough. 

 

How do you ensure the authenticity of your Sicilian recipes?

Alessandro: We use simple ingredients in all of our products, especially the cookies and the bread. We don't use preservatives. Our dad always tried to keep the same recipe from Sicily that he grew up with, and our uncle taught him that. "Keep it the same. Don't do anything fancy; just keep it original."

It shows, and it makes a difference in the taste. Quality has always been our number one priority, and we ensure that the process stays the same and that the steps from start to finish remain the same every time we do something. That's helped us stay well-known with all of our customers.

Antonella: Whenever we go to Sicily, we'll bring back ingredients that we need. We get our anise oil, which we use for anise cookies. 

We try to make sure we don't ever change anything or compromise just to save a few pennies. There are cheaper ways that we can do things, but that's really not how our dad did it.

Alessandro: One example is the butter. We always emphasize using a hundred percent butter. Some places do a half-and-half, half margarine and half butter. You can taste the oily difference. Things like that compromise the product, and we don't want to go down that route.

 

Antonella: Even when we make our cannoli cream…. I've seen recipes that are just cheap cream cheese. We use simple ricotta and sugar and chocolate chips. We make everything the way our dad did. We're not trying to save a few pennies.

 

You're also known for your cakes. Can you share a memorable cake order?

Antonella: One that stands out was one of my very first wedding cakes. We've been making cakes for a long time, but this one was probably one of my favorites. It was one of those ones where when you're done with it, you step back and really admire it.

It's one of our most duplicated cakes; brides will come in, see it, and want that exact same one. It's a three-tiered cake with calla lilies that are cascading down. It's simple. There's not much to it outside of the beautiful calla lilies, but it's just one of those cakes that is just really memorable. 

Then there was one other cake that I made… I don't remember the cake at all, but it sticks in my mind because as I was finishing it, the bride showed up. I was still putting it together, and she started crying because she was so happy about it. 

I don't remember what the cake looked like at all. I don't even know if I still have a picture of it, but I just felt the emotion of her being so overjoyed.

 

What advice would you give to someone who wants to start their own bakery or pursue a career in baking?

Antonella: Find a good staff, find good people that you can rely on. We wouldn't be able to do any of the things we do without our staff. 

Alessandro: It's kind of a load off knowing that we can rely on them when needed. So that helps out a lot when you can trust your employees to take the next step whenever you need them to.

Antonella: Alessandro's son, Giovanni, who was named after our father, works at the bakery, and he's an incredible help. He is such a hard worker, and he definitely helps with a ton of things: a lot of what our mom showed me how to do, like our lasagna that we make on weekends or different things, like our homemade sauce and meatballs that I used to make. 

Now, I spend most of my time just making cakes and pastries, and he's able to pick up that tradition and help me with those types of things, and he's great at it. So, it's great to have him be a part of our bakery and our legacy and help us.

You have to get good employees that you can trust and rely on, and you have to make sure that you're willing to give the best customer service and always put that first. I feel like that's so important. Every time I see another good review, another five-star review on Google, I'm just like, "Well, they were impressed with our customer service." I feel like that's so important nowadays. 

Alessandro: It's hard to go into a place and actually talk to the owner or someone that's part of the business. Our dad said, "It's easy to open up a business. It's difficult to keep it successful year after year after year." 

It takes a lot of work, dedication, and sacrifice, and you have to focus on these things. Otherwise, you won't be successful.

Antonella: You're always kind of on call if something happens; it kind of never ends. You have got to be willing to part with time and be as dedicated as possible.

 

What do you hope customers will take away?

Alessandro: I'm hoping that whoever reads this understands that we're a small family business, and we hope that they appreciate all the hard work and the products that we've put out. It's difficult to find local businesses nowadays. We hope to continue the tradition for another 30 years, hopefully, and God willing. We're happy with what we do, and we're hoping to continue the legacy of our parents.

 

 

 

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Artificial intelligence (AI) is rapidly redefining how we interact with data and has permeated most aspects of our digital world—and in more ways than we are even aware of.

 

How we safely and effectively navigate that new information highway is one of the questions Datacom Director of Artificial Intelligence Lou Compagnone helps answer.

 

She has her work cut out for her, but then again, as a Sicilian Australian, she says a solid work ethic is in her blood. 

Lou shared with me her connection to Sicily, how she got started working in AI, what excites her about AI's future, and how she plans to drive innovation.

 

 

What is your connection to Sicily?

My main connection is my father. He was born in Sicily and moved to Australia from Santa Vittoria Domenica when he was about five years old, but he and his family still very much lived like they were in Sicily. The town I grew up in, Donnybrook, in the southwest of Western Australia, is basically the Little Sicily of Australia.

 

During the fifties, there was a mass migration of Sicilians because of the war. A lot of them ended up in Perth and Fremantle, in particular. A huge number of them actually migrated to Donnybrook.

 

They almost recreated Sicily in Donnybrook to the point where even their houses looked Italian. They really shaped the landscape. They even grew prickly pears.

 

So, without even knowing it, I formed a connection with Sicily to the point where when I first visited, when I was in my twenties, I had a sense of déjà vu. I felt like I'd been there before because it looked so much like Donnybrook, and I just really felt at home there.

 

Sometimes, there's a really inexplicable feeling where you just have a sense of belonging even though it's not somewhere you've been before. When I met my aunt, who lives in Sicily, she said you just feel at home when somewhere is in your blood. 

 

Lou's father was 6'7" and lived in the town's smallest house.

 

How did your Sicilian roots shape you personally and professionally?

Work ethic is a big thing. So my nonno worked until he was in his nineties. We tried to stop him from working because he was getting a bit too frail to be on our family farm, and we worried he might have a fall. He was always climbing ladders and doing all sorts of things. So we decided one day that we just weren't going to pick him up to take him to work. And then he just started walking on his own. He found a four-wheeler motorbike and just hooned along the road with no license. So we realized we were just going to have to let him work.

 

My dad was the same. He had that same work ethic and worked harder than anyone I've ever known. He'd always be up at four in the morning and back when it was dark. He worked as an accountant and on our family farm. Even now, he's nearly 80 and retired, but he still does people's tax returns and manages property and stuff like that. So I guess a bit of that has rubbed off on me where I push myself hard in the work that I do, and part of it is because I am passionate about it, and part of it is just this drive that I have just to finish things and do things well. And so that is a bit of a Sicilian thing. Sicilians are sort of battlers. They push through things, and they do it well.

 

How did you get started working with AI?

I've worked in the tech industry for about 17 years, but my background was actually in service design and futurism. And that might seem like a weird background for AI, but it's helpful. And there are a few reasons for that. If you think of a service as something that helps people to do something, I always think of artificial intelligence as closing the gap between humans and technology more than any technology before. So, it makes it easier for someone to do something. I almost describe it as a beeline. It beelines you between the thing you want, the information you want, or the action you want, and then getting that. Naturally, I always think about closing the distance. Futurism is thinking about what's coming tomorrow and how you prepare for it.

 

The combination of that—helping people work out what their service needs to be in the future and futurism—probably makes me perfectly placed for it. Artificial intelligence is only as good as the problem that it solves. There's a figure from Harvard Business Review that 80% of AI projects fail. A big part of that is because they haven't actually done service design.

 

I sort of sweep in and work out what the actual problem is, the real problem to solve. And that works really well with AI. 

 

Describe your role and the group you lead at Datacom.

I'm the director of artificial intelligence for Datacom. I'm mostly an individual contributor because it's basically changing everything that we do. My role is really about operationalizing AI for both our business and customers. The best way of describing it is that a lot of our customers will go to AI summits, or they'll have these tech vendors talking about AI, and they'll be talking about generative AI and context windows and tokens and all this really abstract stuff. And they walk away and go, "What does this mean for my business, and what do I do?"

 

My role is to help people work out what to do and where to start. I'm doing that for Datacom in terms of working out how we reimagine our services and our solutions, how we build our internal capabilities, how we govern AI (because that's a really important part of making sure that you're doing things safely), and how we have our own innovation pipeline. Then, I help customers do the same. We're very transparent about our own learning journey with AI because it's such a new and changing field. If anyone claims to be an AI expert, I'm like, "Is anyone really?" because the field is changing so quickly.

 

What challenges do organizations face when integrating AI, and how do you help them overcome them?

We recently did a survey of 200 business leaders in New Zealand. One of the biggest things that came out is that although there's really been an increase, even from last year, in sentiment towards AI and adoption of AI, there's still low governance. Few people have been able to find specific use cases for it. So, the biggest challenge is finding the right problem to solve and the right use case that will have tangible benefits. On the flip side, many people just buy a tool, like they'll buy Copilot, and go, "It's not working." That's because they've just bought this tool without actually working out the use case and the problem to solve.

 

Many people tell me they feel there's a lot of interest within the organization in people using AI, but it's just happening in lots of different pockets. They describe it as almost out of control as if it is a runaway horse. One of the biggest challenges is how you govern it. How do you coordinate it so that people are doing it in a safe and ethical way, in a scalable way, and in a way where you can actually measure the benefits?

 

It's not just having a tool for its sake. In the end, AI does use a lot of data. It drives a lot of cloud consumption, so you actually have to do it in a worthwhile way. And sometimes, AI might not be the answer for everything. If you're doing it in a more strategic and governed way, you can have better visibility of whether it's working.

 

I think security and data readiness are also challenges—making sure people have the data they need to really live up to the ambitions of the solutions they want to build. AI is only as good as the data that it consumes.

 

We help people with getting their data ready, ensuring that they actually have what they need, and then making sure that they have the security guardrails in place. A big thing with large language models is what happens to your data when using it, where it goes, and what that actually means. I describe to people who are using public AI that they need to understand that anything they type in is going into the big soup of the world. You need to really be cautious about that. And for businesses, it's thinking about actually using enterprise solutions so that you can keep your data close to you.

 

AI-generated illustration of Sicily

 

What excites you about the future of AI?

The Institute for the Future recently reported about the different horizons of what's coming with AI. What we see at the moment in Australia and New Zealand (the U.S. is probably quite different) is the first horizon of AI, which has some capabilities but some key limitations. The limitations often include things like truth. We know that AI can hallucinate; if it doesn't actually know the answer, it can just make it up.

A lot of the AI we're seeing can't actually reason. It is really just an elaborate spreadsheet in lots of ways. A very, very good one, a super-smart search. Where it gets interesting and where we'll see those exciting developments is more on horizons two and three. So, on horizon two, we're seeing in places like the U.S. and especially China, an ecosystem of multiple AI models interacting with each other. What you describe as agentic AI is where things can become really special.

 

It is even more interesting to go beyond the digital to the physical, to interact with the real world through robotics, autonomous vehicles, and neurotechnology.

 

I monitor signals of what's changing. I'm very obsessed with Neuralink and following how that's going with people who are paralyzed being able to play Mario Kart with their minds. I'm really interested in seeing where that technology will go.

 

I recently saw something about a talking pet collar, which I thought was hilarious. It's a chatbot for dogs, and it's voice-activated, so it basically gives pets the ability to talk to you.

 

Then, there's an AI MRI machine that Japanese scientists have invented that records your dreams and gives you the ability to talk to other people in your dreams. I also saw something recently about a scientist who connected a mushroom to a robot body, and it taught itself to walk.

 

Things like that are interesting to me. If we go back to that thing about the beeline, this goes beyond a shorter distance between two places. This is actually going to unlock things that previously have been behind locked doors. And that's fascinating, whether it's realizing the capabilities of mushrooms—that they might walk if given the right technology—or unlocking the language of pets and what they say to us. The question is whether we should be unlocking that stuff in some cases, but whether we should or not, it gives us the ability to unlock things.

 

What are your long-term goals for the AI initiatives at Datacom?

I want to build our own internal capabilities. This is a big thing. We already have some amazing people at Datacom. We've got about 7,000 people, and a lot of them are developers with AI skills. Some of the stuff that they come up with is just incredible. Someone's building an evolutionary algorithm at the moment using AI that becomes smarter as time goes on.

 

I want us to be at the forefront of capabilities because the role that I want us to play with the customers is to help them build their capabilities as well. And in some ways, that's a terrible business model. I want us to help people become independent and make ourselves redundant so that we can simultaneously play a development or tech partner role and a sort of education role.

 

Part of that is that I want us to learn with our clients. But then the other ambition for me is all around making sure that we play that role in ensuring that AI is safe and ethical and that it's done in a scalable way. And part of that is sustainable because how we design it is really important.

 

I think in some of the bigger tech companies, the driver is data consumption. You need data to do AI, but the way you design it is key so that it's done where you're actually using data where you need to, and it's all in how you architect it. Playing a role in AI for the good is pretty important to me.

 

How do you plan to drive innovation and make a lasting impact in your field?

I want to innovate in a human-centered way. I've seen a lot of people talking about how they want to create an AI-driven future. I want to create a human-driven future that's supported by AI. A big part of what I want to do is help humans have agency in the direction this is going and shape the direction. Part of that is actually that you need to lean into it. You need to test the capabilities, and you need to start thinking at a longer horizon.

 

In futurism, we think about a 10-year horizon. If we start thinking about where things are going, we need to think about the stuff that we both want to enable and are excited about. We want to capitalize on our competitive advantage, but we also want to prevent some of the stuff that we actually don't want to be part of our futures. My plan is to help organizations work out and enable the futures they want and prevent the ones they don't want.

 

 

 

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