Posted on by Amy

La Festa di San Marco

Mark the Evangelist aka San Marco holds special significance for Venetians, as patron of the city and for whom the principal square and basilica housing his relics are named, alongside countless other centuries-old traditions and honors.

Venetians observe la festa di San Marco with the (almost compulsory) eating a plate of rice and peas, or risi e bisi in Venetian. Tales about this dish are plentiful indeed. In the Republic period, come Saint Mark’s day, risi e bisi was invariably served to the Doge. It’s also said that a true dish of risi e bisi must contain more peas than rice, or at least equal amounts of the two. Anecdotes aside, this famously Venetian dish, often described as half risotto, half soup, is arguably connected more to Mark’s symbolic role in Venetian civic history than to Catholic observance. Its continued popularity reflects both the importance of rice production in the Veneto region and the ready supply of fresh peas in April, the latter thanks to the noted agricultural production of Venice’s smaller islands such as Sant’Erasmo, Vignole, and Torcello, islands that once functioned as fresh produce suppliers to the Venetian populace.

On the other side of the Italian peninsula, in the Nuoro area of Sardinia, the people of the small town Lei honor San Marco with a religious procession to the rural country churches dedicated to him. Among the procession’s participants are local women carrying trays and baskets of small votive breads, pale in color and intricately decorated with flowers, garlands, birds, leaves, and more. These elaborate dainty breads, called cocoietas in the local dialect, are later blessed and dedicated to San Marco, considered protector of the fields.

Posted on by Amy

Paschal Baylón & Zabaglione

On May 17, the people of Naples venerate Paschal Baylón, a Spanish Franciscan who lived in the second half of the 16th century and canonized a century after his death in 1592.

As he likely never travelled to southern Italy, many attribute his popularity in Naples, where numerous streets, piazzas, and churches are named after him, to the significant cultural influences resulting from centuries of Spanish rule in the area. Baylón definitely spent time in Turin, however, where his association with “female” concerns took root; in addition to his patronage of pastry chefs, Baylón is protector of women and helper to women seeking husbands— and it is here that his legendary role in the creation of the egg cream known as zabaglione (also spelled zabaione) comes into play.

While in Turin, Baylón is said to have advised women complaining of their husbands’ spent sexual desire to prepare a mixture of egg, cream, sugar, and wine. The recipe, apparently successful in stimulating the attentions of at least a few husbands, grew in popularity among Turinese women, and eventually spread to other parts of Italy. Meanwhile, its name morphed from San Bajon, the saint’s name in the Turinese dialect, to zabaglione.

Among the various competing versions of zabaglione’s origin story, a widely-held belief in its fortifying or tonic-like qualities has remained constant: beyond its reputed aphrodisiacal powers, zabaglione is also considered a beneficial nutritional boost for the weak and sickly. On his feast day, many southern Italians, mostly women, will remember Baylón by preparing zabaglione along with different types of pastries and cakes calling for an egg cream filling, while invoking the saint with a dedicated prayer: San Pasquale Baylonne protettore delle donne, fammi trovare marito, or “Saint Paschal, protector of women, help me find a husband.”

Posted on by Amy

Ventotene: A Perspective

This 1943 military photo of Ventotene is the only known image of its kind. It forms part of the riveting story of the Allied liberation of this tiny Pontine Island off Italy’s Gaeta Coast on the night of September 8, 1943.

Like so many war tales, the liberation of Ventotene contains details both mundane and extraordinary. To give an idea of the island scenario at the time of the Allied arrival, I refer to a paragraph from John Steinbeck’s Once There Was a War, a collection of articles from his time as war correspondent to the New York Herald Tribune in the second half of 1943:

“…there was a radar station on [Ventotene] which searched the whole ocean north and south of Naples. The radar was German, but it was thought that there were very few Germans. There were two or three hundred carabinieri there, however, and it was not known whether they would fight or not. Also, there were a number of political prisoners on the island who were to be released, and the island was to be held by these same paratroopers until a body of troops could be put ashore.”

Strategically speaking, the capture of the island and the German radar was crucial to the Allies, given their operations taking place concurrently in southern Italy—most notably the battles at Salerno from September 9 to 17—and other Italian Campaign operations in that area to come. The mission itself, seemingly simple enough, entailed several potentially critical unknowns. Although there were fewer than 100 Germans on the island (87, to be precise), the Allies had no way of predicting how the larger Italian carabinieri presence referred to by Steinbeck would react, an uncertainty fuelled by the announcement that very day of the Armistice; Italy was no longer at war with the Allies, yet no clear indications had been given to Italian military as to how to proceed, nor how to conduct themselves vis-à-vis their just-yesterday enemies. The infamously confused and chaotic atmosphere created in the wake of the Armistice announcement saw the virtual disintegration of Italy’s armed forces, alongside mass desertions. Yet, at the time these events took place, the carabinieri, Italy’s military police, were considered loyal Fascists (though later, once disbanded, many former carabinieri joined the Italian Resistance).

Ventotene was as well, like the nearby island of Ponza, a penal colony for Mussolini’s political opponents (both islands have been places of exile since the ancient Roman era). In 1943, a number of dissidents and exiles were present on the island. One such exiled elderly gentleman, according to reports, assisted the American troopers of the 509th Parachute Infantry Battalion in carrying out a plan to deceive the occupying Germans into believing the approaching Allied forces were in the hundreds, having been deposited by an attendant fleet. In reality, the mission consisted of 46 troopers and one torpedo boat! The pitch darkness of night made such a deception possible, and a blackout had been in place on Ventotene since the start of the war.

Unbelievable as it seems, the initial “invasion” of Ventotene was conducted by a mere five American troopers. After receiving a signal indicating the stationed Italians’ intention to surrender, they approached the narrow port in a whaleboat, engulfed in a darkness described by Steinbeck as so thick “you could not see the man standing at your shoulder.” One of these soldiers proceeded with the plan, successfully convincing the German lieutenant in charge of Ventotene that he and his forces were far outnumbered. The Germans then surrendered, the carabinieri having already turned in their weapons, and the island was liberated in the middle of the night, without action or injury of any kind—indeed, without a single shot having been fired.