Last year I took a research trip to Puglia, and my husband Stephen came with me—it was his family we were visiting. He has cousins all over Bari, in the city and the country, and the trip was essentially one long meal, with cousins constantly stuffing us full of food and pretending it was nothing. I learned so much from them—every time they brought something out, I’d say, “How did you make that?” And these recipes were amazing, like Lucia Erriquez’s focaccia. She deliberately took me to focaccerias all over Bari to taste all different kinds—and I thought these focaccias were fabulous!—but she always said, nope, this is no good. I really understood when I finally ate hers. It’s very different from what we know as focaccia in the states. Usually it’s more bready, like a Sicilian pizza, but hers was light, airy goodness that you just sink your teeth into. And it is so easy to make.
On our last night there, another one of Stephen’s cousins, Stella Erriquez, invited us to her mother Maria’s for a traditional Barese dinner. When we walked in, there was that insane smell—I can’t explain it. You know when you go to your grandmother’s house and you walk in and just sniff? It just smells like someone’s been cooking something for a long time, and has been putting a lot of love into it. They had a tiny house. In her little kitchen, she had an ironing board out, with all her ingredients laid out on it. First she served up a fritto misto like nobody’s business. The fish was so good. She made fried calamari like I had never had it. Next, she did fried vegetables, served with lemon. And then, fried mussels—she just plucked them out of their shells and into the oil they went.
Finally, we sat down to an amazing layered rice dish, with vegetables and seafood. I basically rolled out of that house when it was all over (which, by the way, it wasn’t, until a round of gelato).
Stephen and I were stuffed to the gills, but on the way home, Stella said, “I want to take you for a light snack.” I was thinking, we just ate for five hours straight! But you cannot say no. Next thing I knew, we were in this seafood place, just packed with people, at eleven at night. There were these long tables—it almost looked like a lunchroom. Stella said to the owner, “Light, light! Stefano, light!” But the amount of food that came out! First, they brought out all this raw seafood with all sorts of hot sauces and lemons. Raw shrimp, langoustines, prawns, oysters, mussels, clams. Stephen must have seen the worried look on my face, because he said to me, “This isn’t so bad. We can do this.” Then they cleared off the table and gave us some sparkling water, and I thought it was over. But then, out came the pasta! I said, “Whoa! What happened to light?” Stella said, “Oh, it’s just a little pasta!” There was burrata and focaccia, and all of it was so amazing, and you really couldn’t leave anything in your dish, because Stella would look!
Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, they brought out a roasted fish in parchment paper, and it was so fresh-tasting. Sure, the fish itself was very fresh, but the olives and lemon and oregano really brought out that clean taste of the sea. Finally, I thought, something I can eat. I was so full, but this was light enough that I was happy to see it. We ended the meal with that. No, wait! Of course there was a platter of fresh fruit—enough to serve 20 people.
I really wanted to make sure these recipes came out right. So when I got back, I worked from all the notes I had taken, I made a few phone calls to the cousins in Bari to fine-tune everything; and I always took samples home to Stephen for second opinions. I know I’ve hit on it because when I taste them, I can hear the cousins’ voices in my head: “Gina, it’s light, light!”
Bring the taste of Puglia home with our recipes for Tomato Focaccia and Black Cod with Olives and Potatoes in Parchment.
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