{"id":2954,"date":"2014-11-07T17:07:43","date_gmt":"2014-11-07T16:07:43","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.katebailward.com\/drivinglikeamaniac\/?p=2954"},"modified":"2014-11-07T17:35:43","modified_gmt":"2014-11-07T16:35:43","slug":"where-theres-love-theres-flavour-a-prequel","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.katebailward.com\/drivinglikeamaniac\/2014\/11\/where-theres-love-theres-flavour-a-prequel\/","title":{"rendered":"Where there’s love, there’s flavour – a prequel"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"granita<\/a>
Granita and brioche: the best way to start your day<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

May 2012.<\/strong> I’m in Pasticceria Dulcissima, talking to Maurizio and Silvana, the owners. He’s in the airforce and speaks excellent English. The shop is her dream. Se c\u2019\u00e8 amore, c\u2019\u00e8 sapore<\/em>\u00a0is the motto: If there\u2019s love, there\u2019s flavour. She makes the ice-creams by hand every day, measuring and balancing all the individual ingredients. The tastes can change every time she makes them, apparently, according to the weather, the ambient temperature, or just how well she balances her measurements.<\/p>\n

Silvana fills up a coppetta with granita and hands it over. A little girl appears from the kitchen. “What are you doing?” Silvana answers her with literal honesty. “I\u2019m filling up a cup with granita for the signora.” She hands it over the counter and I taste it. I\u2019ve gone for mandorla flavour. You only have to look at it to\u00a0see that it’s made with real, chopped almonds rather than just almond milk. The colour isn’t as brilliant white as others that you can find, and the texture is chunkier. Taste-wise, the sweetness of the sugar comes through more as well, not overpowering but complementing the almonds. This is proper, artisan granita. I smile at Silvana and tell her it\u2019s good. *Really* good. She beams\u00a0back. “I make it fresh every day.”<\/p>\n

As I pay, Silvana asks if I\u2019m English. Not, \u2018where are you from?\u2019, but \u2018are you English?\u2019 I tell her I am. Her face lights up and Claudia, the chubby-faced little girl at her side, looks up with interest. Silvana starts to talk about her dream of opening an artisan gelato shop in London. Do I think there\u2019s a market for it? How easy would it be? I don\u2019t know anything about the business side of things, but I agree that the English would probably go for good gelato. Is London the right place, though? Maybe a smaller city? Silvana bounces ideas around while I eat my granita and act as a sounding board.<\/p>\n

\"cake_baking_qz4p2\"<\/a>
You can’t make a cake without breaking a few eggs …<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

There\u2019s a loud alarm going in the back of the shop, and a smell of baked goods wafts out. Silvana calls to Maurizio, who\u2019s on the phone outside. He makes as if to come and turn off the oven, but Silvana waves that aside. “She\u2019s English! Come and talk to her!” She turns back to me to explain herself. “I speak only a little English, but my husband is very good. Sit down! Make yourself comfortable!” She ushers me to a seat at the side of the tiny shop, and disappears out back.<\/p>\n

Maurizio comes in and introduces himself. “We can talk in English if it\u2019s easier \u2026?” I tell him I\u2019d rather practise my Italian. At first he\u2019s not very forthcoming. The shop is Silvana\u2019s dream and, although he\u2019s proud of what she does, he\u2019s also reticent. He looks at the difficulties. 25 years in the airforce have given him strength but also caution. He talks about their two grown-up sons. One is a photographer, who\u2019s recently finished his training in Florence and has now moved to Newport. When I talk about growing up near Bristol his barriers start to come down. Bristol\u00a0would be close to the son, and would give them the smaller city feel that he seems to prefer. Would people buy the gelato, though? And how much would they pay? He wants to nail down the practicalities before committing to anything. I wish I could help more in terms of facts and figures, but I haven\u2019t lived in the UK for three years. He nods in understanding.<\/p>\n

“What\u2019s Bristol like? How many days of rain are there a year?” Maurizio\u2019s eyes crinkle in amusement behind his glasses. “Is it by the sea? That\u2019s good. She doesn\u2019t like too much sun. The weather\u2019s better here than in England, but the people \u2026” he pulls a face. “And we\u2019re Sicilian.” He glances sideways at me. “We\u2019re not from Catania, though. We\u2019re from Trapani, on the west coast. Have you been? Where did you go? By the sea? Ah yes.” He nods and smiles. “Did you eat the couscous? She makes it for us every Christmas, with lots of garlic and fish. She can cook anything. I’ve been a pilot for 25 years but she can get a job far easier than I can. Tavola calda, gelato, granita – she can do it all.”<\/p>\n

\"Silvana<\/a>
Silvana Ballistreri and il Maestro Cavaziel<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

“She trained with an old traditional gelato maker here in Catania,” Maurizio continues. “Maestro Luca Cavaziel. He doesn\u2019t take students any more. He\u2019s 87. It\u2019s a precision thing.” He pinches his forefingers to his thumbs and mimes tiny balances with his fingers. “She uses this -” he grabs a miniature calculator from behind the till and laughs. “It changes every day.” When I praise the idea of having only a few, really good flavours versus 50 not-so-good ones, he shrugs. “It\u2019s expensive. It\u2019s good, but it\u2019s expensive. Here the price of gelato is about \u20ac30 per kilo. Elsewhere in Catania it\u2019s about \u20ac14 or \u20ac15. In Florence it goes up to \u20ac35, but you\u2019re paying for being in that city.” It seems that profit margins are a big stumbling block.<\/p>\n

Claudia, who\u2019s been hanging about while I talk to who I’d assumed were her parents, suddenly flies out from behind the counter. “Pap\u00e0!” She flings her arms around the man who\u2019s just come into the shop. Apparently Maurizio and Silvana are just babysitters for the morning. Her father leaves again and she returns to her place at Maurizio\u2019s side, behind the counter. “My daddy\u2019s happy,” she informs us.<\/p>\n

Update<\/strong>: I wrote this piece over two years ago, but didn’t get round to publishing it at the time. I did, however, review Dulcissima’s granita in a post for Travel Belles<\/a>. <\/em><\/p>\n

Fastforward to the present day. A few weeks ago, I was contacted by Davide, who’s the photographer son in Newport mentioned in the story, and who’s now back in Catania working on the website<\/a> and social media<\/a> side of things for Dulcissima. He asked whether I’d be interested in collaborating on some\u00a0posts wherein he provides the pictures and I write the words. I said yes. So, in due course, there’s going to be more about Dulcissima’s excellent cakes and biscuits over on my food blog<\/a>. For now, however, this has been a little slice\u00a0of those future posts’ history.\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

Photo of Silvana Ballistreri and Maestro Cavaziel \u00a9 Davide Cosenza. Used with permission.<\/p>\n

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