A Food Lover’s Guide to Puglia, Italy

For my first dinner in the Italian region of Puglia, I wanted a killer pasta experience, so spaghetti all’assassina was the obvious choice. At Urban L’Assassineria Urbana in Bari, Puglia’s capital city, Chef Celso Laforgia follows the traditional recipe of cooking dry pasta in a skillet with tomato sauce, garlic, chili pepper and extra virgin olive oil—no boiling water required. Featured on CNN’s Stanley Tucci: Searching for Italy, the dish showcases the deep flavors that can be mined from a few ingredients. This is a hallmark of Italy’s cucina povera, meaning “poor kitchen,” and an inspiration for my travels.

As a third-generation Italian American with roots in the southern region of Campania, which borders Puglia, I grew up on this type of cooking. But I didn’t know to call homey favorites like spaghetti in red sauce (aka gravy) or chicken soup with tiny pasta and escarole cucina povera––it was just what my family made. For this trip, I wanted to learn more about this style of cuisine by venturing farther southeast to Puglia, located along the Adriatic Sea in the heel of Italy’s boot.

Known as the country’s breadbasket because of its robust wheat production, Puglia is famous for its crusty breads and signature pasta, orecchiette (little ears), a thousand-year tradition. Over two weeks, my husband, Kevin, and I ate our way around Puglia’s cities, hilltop villages and farm restaurants, drawing tasty connections between its storied past and abundant present.

Streets of food

In Bari Vecchia (Bari’s Old Town), where weathered stone buildings date to the 11th century, we started with a history lesson through street food. During a guided walking tour along narrow alleyways, we met so-called pasta grannies standing at tables outside their homes, where they carefully formed orecchiette by hand and sold them by the bag. Over several hours, we learned about the impact of various conquerors (Greek, Roman, Byzantine and more) while snacking on local nibbles like focaccia Barese (a flour-and-potato-based dough topped with tomato, olives and oregano), panino con polpo (grilled octopus sandwich) and sgagliozze (fried polenta).

In between, we stopped at key sites such as Basilica San Nicola, which was completed in the late 12th century; Piazza Mercantile, a gathering spot near the Adriatic since Medieval times; and the imposing Castello Normanno-Svevo, which was built by a Norman monarch, destroyed by a king of Sicily, rebuilt by a successor and later controlled by a queen of Poland––reflecting the port city’s changing fortunes.

Following a much-needed nap, we returned to the old town for dinner at Pizzeria di Cosimo, tucked away in a piazza strung with white lights and lined with tables. We supped on a fried dough turnover called a panzerotto, a Bari original that likely started in the 1500s as a way to repurpose leftover bread. Today’s versions come stuffed with combinations of cheese, meats and tomato sauce and make for a satisfyingly cheap meal. We paid the equivalent of just $20 for a panzerotto, a margherita pizza and two beers.

Farm to table

To get closer to the source of these fresh ingredients, we headed about 50 miles inland to the sleepy village of Montegrosso in an area filled with olive groves and vineyards. The main attraction, really the only attraction, is a Michelin-rated restaurant called Antichi Sapori (ancient flavors). Here, native son Chef Pietro Zito serves earthy dishes like “burned” orecchiette with fava beans, burrata and charred olives, and pureed favas with bitter greens in an airy, wood-beamed dining room.

A leading figure in Italy’s Slow Food movement, which promotes local, sustainable food systems, Zito sources pasta, goat cheese, olive oil and almost everything else from family-run purveyors who are based no more than 12 miles away. He completes his ingredient list even closer to the restaurant––from his own garden, which supplies the vegetables, fruit and eggs.

Later in our trip, we tried a more upmarket farm-to-table experience in a masseria (a farm with a restaurant and guest rooms) outside the hill town of Ostuni, known as the “White City” for its whitewashed buildings. At the “zero-waste” Masseria Le Carubbe, the candlelit dining room’s whitewashed walls and stone floors provided a rustic chic setting for its vegetarian tasting menu. Over multiple courses, humble ingredients like turnips and Savoy cabbage were transformed into complex dishes like a decadent risotto with smoked stracciatella and a Napoleon layered with chickpeas, pumpkin and caciocavallo cheese. Priced at about $60 a person (not including drinks), this cucina was less povera but still a good value, given the excellent quality and technique.

Family ties

For another take on Puglia’s cuisine, we spent several days wandering the narrow, winding streets of the historic center of Lecce, a small city about 100 miles south of Bari. Although Lecce traces its roots to pre-Roman times, it’s better known for its trove of handsome Baroque and Medieval buildings and elaborately decorated churches.

Adding to Lecce’s historic bona fides are a pair of Roman ruins from the 1st and 2nd centuries AD that weren’t “discovered” until the early 20th century––an amphitheater in the main piazza and a smaller theater nearby. They are a reminder of the city’s importance during Roman times as a trading spot and defense against invaders from the east.

For lunch one day, we ate as the Romans did. The traditional pucce is a cross between pita and focaccia that the conquerors dubbed bucellatum (bite-sized). At Antica Pucceria dal Giannone 1941, the pucce offerings were freshly baked and featured toppings like sliced tomato, arugula, burrata and salami.

That night, we strolled just outside the walls of the historic center to Trattoria Le Zie (the aunts), which has been run by the same family for nearly six decades. In dining rooms fitted with simple wooden furniture and tables topped with checked cloths, the kitchen repped local flavors with an antipasti of grilled eggplant, white beans, carrots and potato salad, and tajeddra, a traditional baked rice dish with mussels and potatoes that hinted of the Arab, Persian, Turkish and Spanish forces who all passed through this region.

Before leaving Lecce, we had to stop by Golosità dal 1942, an old-school grocery. We crammed our bags with tastes of Puglia––taralli, an addictive, ring-shaped cracker; sundried tomatoes and, of course, more orecchiette. Back home in Philadelphia, we savored these souvenirs of cucina povera and its rich rewards.

Pizza King of the World

Naples may be the birthplace of modern pizza, but a smaller nearby city better known for its massive royal palace is making a bid for pizza preeminence. In Caserta, Chef Francesco Martucci is laying claim to being not just Italy’s best pizzaiolo but (according to the much-followed annual 50 Top Pizza list by three Italian “pizza inspectors”) the world’s.

His restaurant, I Masanielli, is a worthy stop en route to Naples (or its airport) for an audience with pizza royalty. Be sure to plan well in advance: The only reservation we could get on a weeknight was 11 p.m. Was the pizza the very best? It matched the hype with unusual toppings like fermented chestnut, potato and anchovies and a perfectly cooked crust with just the right chew. But I can’t really rank it without more research (and a return trip to Naples).