This summer, I was lucky enough to win a competition to be taken on a two-week tour of Italy – which is proof that it's always worth entering these things, even if the previous time I won anything of significance was for a space-hopper race more than three decades ago.
Francesco Guarracino, the executive chef at Bice Mare in Souk Al Bahar, took a group of his chefs and some journalists on the Road to Dubai, a 4,900-kilometre quest across the length and breadth of Italy (coincidentally, the same distance as the flight from the UAE to the country). The landscape of Italy is truly breathtaking – a fertile garden land punctuated with vines and olive, fig and fruit trees. The aim was to seek out and meet artisanal food producers and discover more about the traditional agricultural techniques they deploy, and the provenance of their products and flavours.
Guarracino is a passionate advocate of “real” food. “As a chef, I try to get the best possible produce for my guests. If you go further in your research, getting to know the producer, the land, the history, the soil and the season, and when those ingredients are available, then you can serve something different, with soul, which you can taste in the dish,” he says.
We know that good sun and the right amount of rain will enhance the flavour of the food we eat. If you ever compare imported polytunnel tomatoes bought at the supermarket with those grown organically and nurtured by the sun on a daily basis, it’s like comparing monochrome to glorious Technicolor. The whole taste experience is intensified and brought to life; thereafter, the former loses its charm. They may appear to be the same, but the pleasure derived from eating something that has never been directly touched by sunshine is neutered.
However, a third element will invariably affect the flavour of produce: soil. On my travels, I learn that some producers are cultivating fruit and vegetables that quite literally taste of Italy, as regional variations in soil are coming together to create distinct flavours found only in very specific locations.
The world-famous Sorrento lemons, or limone di Sorrento, are unique to that part of the country, for example, and a large part of this is because of the volcanic soil in which they’re grown. It has low acidity, which impacts the flavour of the fruit, meaning these lemons can be eaten whole, including the pith. Italians call them “bread lemons” because they can be consumed with such ease.
Lemons have been cultivated since ancient times by the Greeks and Romans for decorating their villas. As early as the 17th century, Jesuit monks in the Sorrento region began propagating lemons for their perceived health benefits.
Guarracino takes us to visit a Sorrento lemon grove, Limoneti dei Giardini di Viviano, a family-owned business, and a beautiful place of dappled shade and sunlight where these delicious citrus fruit are carefully tended.
Marilena di Coste, the owner of the Dubai-based distributor Made in Italia, believes it’s essential to support farmers and small businesses that defend the ancient traditions of production to preserve the authenticity of their produce.
“Each of the foods grown here needs to be appreciated in the context of its history and place,” she says. “Diversities in the climate and soil present in Italy mean that, for example, the buffalo mozzarella of Campania, like the lemons of Sorrento or the chocolate of Modica, because they are anchored to their territory, have unique flavours that could not be produced elsewhere.”
In Sorrento, I learn that since the rootstock of orange trees has greater longevity than that of lemons, branches of lemon tree stock are grafted on to more established wild orange trees (usually when the trees are about five years old). The grafted lemon stock is bound in place with string, then sealed to prevent disease. Once established, the binding is removed to allow the growth expansion of the tree and the lemon grafts will eventually dominate the tree and alter the fruit it bears from orange to lemon.
The grove features large specimens of fruiting trees that are more than 200 years old. Occasionally, the trees can revert and will produce oranges and lemons simultaneously – which can be the cause of significant confusion for an uninitiated citrus grower who may believe they are bearing witness to some kind of horticultural miracle, rather than Mother Nature reasserting her will.
The lemon trees flower in May, and their large fruits are harvested 10 or 11 months after. The trees reach heights of about 4.5 metres, and are protected from the elements by a complex system of chestnut wood pergolato or pergolas. In winter, the structure is covered by a pagliarella (a type of roof) to protect the trees from the cold, which used to be made from rattan, but today is more likely to be comprised from lengths of bamboo. The towers of the pergolato structure are kept clear to allow light and rain through to the trees below.
Another beautiful example of soil permeating the flavour of fruits can be found at the Cantina La Muròla vineyard in Urbisaglia in the Macerata province. The area’s soil has a high salt content, about four or five times higher than usual, and right at the edge of what the vines grown here can tolerate. It gives the grapes “a soul”, our guide tells us, as the saltiness mixes with the sweetness of the fruit. In the same way, grapes grown in Californian vineyards after wild fires have broken out take on a smoky flavour in the following years.
Despite the warm climate, the vines in Urbisaglia don’t require any additional irrigation because parts of their root systems probe deep into the soil, reaching in excess of six metres deep to tap moisture. Rose bushes planted at the end of each row of vines are a traditional early warning system for types of mildew to which grape vines are also susceptible to. Like the canary carried by miners, a struggling rose bush will indicate that immediate action is needed to prevent damage to the grape harvest. Although more modern methods of disease prevention have been developed, the roses continue as an aesthetic feature and a potentially useful backup.
We find another salt-tolerant plant on a visit to the coast, where the culinary fashionista, samphire, is growing in abundance among the salt marshes, its salty crispness reflecting a direct connection with the surrounding land.
The final piece of garden know-how that I glean, however, is less about the content of soil and more about the covering of it. We visit the farm of the cheese maker Trionfi Honorati in Jesi, where a charming herb and vegetable garden, utilising many of the principles of companion planting, is found near a donkey stable.
Here, the farmers use sheep’s wool as a mulch around the growing plants. The irrigation system is rigged beneath and the fleeces act as a weed suppressant, keeping moisture in the soil and regulating temperature, protecting the earth from chills in the winter and overheating in summer.
The insulation properties of wool are well known, and it’s already used by the building trade for acoustic and thermal insulation. Subsequent research has also indicated that the lanolin of the wool may deter certain types of pest, and farmers are now looking to produce this mulch in a more accessible and commercial form than the cut fleeces found here.
Whatever their techniques and however they use the soil to their benefit, the growers we visit are, without exception, all family concerns and fully committed to preserving the traditions and the integrity of their produce. Guarracino shares their vision. “I’m an Italian chef working abroad. My aim is to make sure that the next generation will still have the luxury of trying real food made by people with a real passion for what they are growing and what they are making,” he says. “It’s very important to educate people and make them understand the difference between commercial processes and artisan ones.”
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