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In Sila, Calabria
I am in Sila, in the middle of Calabria, the southernmost region of Italy – the foot that kicks Sicily, as some people say. The word Sila is related to the English word sylvan. Both are derived from the Latin work silwa. They all mean a place with woods, and I am surrounded here in the town of Camigliatello Silano, about 4,000 feet above sea level, by pine forests, rustling linden, oak, maple, and chestnut trees, rustic wooden fences covered with lichen, and other woodsy things that remind me of the Adirondacks and New England. In fact, I hear that in mid October the colors are as vivid as they are in Vermont. One reason I chose to spend a week here was to escape the heat of mid summer, and that has been accomplished.
What I didn't expect was to be staying at the most elegant and gorgeous bed and breakfast imaginable, the carefully restored 16th century baronial home of Maurizio Barracco and his wife Mirella, who has been called the Queen of Naples. She founded Napoli Novantanove (Naples 99), an organization to promote the great city, where she and Il Barone live when not at their summer place here in the mountains of Calabria. I found their place, Torre Camigliati, on the internet. It simply looked like the best bet of several in the area. Along with their adult daughter, Chiara, who is here with her two children, 6-year-old Nicola and 12-year-old Carolina, they have been the most gracious and generous hosts. Our first night here they invited us – me, Bob Harned, Cecilia (who is herself the Baronessa Bellelli), my dear friend Iris Carulli, who lives in Rome, and my new friend Laura Evans, a New Jersey girl who now lives in Umbria – to dinner at their house.
They were expecting to take us to a restaurant, but when we demurred, they threw together a very simple meal, the highlights of which were sweet soppressata and red peppery salami made on their property, the mozzarella di bufala that we brought from Paestum as a gift, small green sweet peppers sautéed with cherry tomatoes, and a great fresh tomato salad with oregano gathered from the countryside. Everyday we have been eating some of the best tomatoes of my life. This was accompanied by brilliant conversation lead by Il Barone, who is perhaps one of the most charming and cosmopolitan men I have ever met – but simple, as he would say.
Right away we hit it off when we saw that we had bought the same chestnut mortar and pestle from the same woodsman who was selling them along the autostrada that day. Then Maurizio looked at my belly. "I see I have a friend," he said, gesturing to his own. We have since commiserated on dieting. We also, right away, found out that we love some of the same things, and hate some of the same things, especially fancy, pretentious restaurants. We were telling each other about bad experiences in famous Italian restaurants, namely La Pergola in Rome, which recently received the highest rating, three stars, from the French Michelin guide, and Don Alfonso near Sorrento, which also has a couple of Michelin stars, when I told him a story that involved the Queen of Denmark visiting Don Alfonso.
"Oh, she's a simple girl," he said to explain that she probably didn't like it much either. That stopped the conversation dead.
Need I explain that Maurizio actually knows the Queen of Denmark?
He then proceeded to tell a story about her coming to his house in Naples. He had arranged a formal dinner for 24. Everyone was all dressed to the nines to meet the queen. But when she arrived and saw that his house was on the sea, on the Bay of Naples, she just wanted to be informal and take a swim. So the men removed their ties, and he had the formal dining room dismantled, and the whole party transferred to the terrace.
We also gossiped about a few people we know in common in Naples, which was sort of naughty, but enjoyable, and we talked about Calabrese food, and he regaled us with stories about his years in New York – he has an MBA from NYU – and, you know, he is really a very simple boy, which I know he would take as a compliment. Still, when I asked him where he liked to eat in Naples, and what restaurants he liked when he lived in New York, he told us that he doesn't ever eat out in Naples because they have a very good cook, and that except for an occasional dinner at Gino's, a famous Neapolitan-American restaurant with a chic clientele, he never ate out in New York either because he brought his cook with him. One of his "mates" was the son of the owner of Chateau Petrus and would bring the wine. It's totally understandable why he did not want to leave his apartment on E. 75th St. for dinner.
Our rooms here at the bed and breakfast are, I have to say, fit for a baron in the country, so if you want to see what that is like, come to Camiglatello Silano. At 100 euro a night, including a simple breakfast of coffee, the best apricot-filled cornetti (Italian croissants … I just had a bite … you know, my diet), fruit, and yogurt if you like, you will have the experience of a lifetime. The internet address is www.oldcalabria.org. You can make inquiries and/or reserve through info@oldcalabria.org. The name refers to the title of the English writer Norman Douglas' book about his travels through the region in the early 20th century. On the grounds here, there is, in fact, a small Norman Douglas museum, and a wonderful museum of Italian immigration to America that is housed in a former dairy building that the Barracco's other daughter, an architect, transformed.
Our rooms are on the top floor of the huge house – the baron and Mirella live next door in a smaller building, but by no means small – where the floors are covered with handmade clay tiles, golden beige tiles blushed with terracotta. The rooms are furnished with antiques. Mine has two green-black iron beds with red finials, a tall armoire with a mirrored door, appropriate small tables and lamps, and two easy chairs. Our bathroom is huge, and with a blessedly large shower stall. I am now in the big sitting room, at a desk positioned in the center, facing window-doors overlooking the woods and flanking a fireplace. There are comfortable sofas and chairs here, plus a computer station. The whole floor is painted a cheery pale yellow above and pale moss green below a terracotta stripe to divide the wall so it brings it into human proportion. My guess is that the ceiling is about 12 feet up.
Another big sitting room has a TV. The breakfast room is set with woven rattan tables and chairs. The real thing, not the plastic imitations one usually sees these days.
Maurizio and Mirella have been extremely helpful in planning our days. There is not a huge amount to do in Camigliatello, although there are stores selling local crafts and food products, including more salumerie (pork stores) that a town this small size should have. Yesterday, Saturday, was a market day, and the vendors had local cured meats, local cheese, which are mainly sheep's milk cheeses, and the glory of the region – wild mushrooms. One of the secrets of Calabria is that it has more mushrooms than almost any other region of Italy. With more woods than anywhere else, that makes sense. At the market you could buy dried porcini – it is not the season for fresh ones – at such a ridiculously low price that Laura went home with a huge bagful, and she lives in Umbria where mushrooms are also a regional glory.
The potatoes of Sila are also famous. Right now, the fields full of deep green potato plants have white flowers. They are quite a sight.
Revelation time: Potatoes grow best on mountains, meaning at high elevations. Think about it: Potatoes originally come from the Andes in Peru and Chile. They weren't introduced to Europe until the 16th century. Now think Idaho!
More to come soon.
