Far off the tourist track, Molise offers the best parts of Italy
Italy is overrun by tourists. Molise, a region to the east of Rome, is one of the few remaining exceptions. Molise, Italy, is known for its hidden corners, particularly its cheese factory and archaeological ruins. Despite being off-the-beaten-path, Molise offers a more relaxing alternative for tourists. The cheese factory, Azienda Agricola Carmela Colavecchio, in the hills outside Campobasso, was recently visited by a group of cheese makers. The family enjoyed a rare taste of the country's history, with many offering regular tours of their operations. The cuisine is renowned for its delicacy, with dishes served only with parmigiano reggiano and chili flakes.
Veröffentlicht : vor 2 Jahren durch Chico Harlan in Travel
But I realize now — after a week-long family road trip from our home in Rome — that these factors allow Molise to hide in the best way possible. In an era when Italy is so warped by tourism, when even the “off-the-beaten-path” itineraries lead you to crowded Instagram towns, visiting Molise feels like more than an antidote. It feels like finding the buried heart of why travelers fell for Italy in the first place.
Even Molise’s comparatively well-known sites seem uninterested in being discovered. Near the village of Sepino lies a field of archaeological ruins, a former Roman valley town, with the stone remains of an amphitheater and a colonnaded forum, a micro-Pompei. But the site is virtually unmarked from the main road. There are no tickets, no opening hours, no ropes keeping anything out of bounds — only a gorgeous spread of onetime grandeur, with wild sage growing all around, where our 4-year-old happily played hide-and-seek in the mazelike remains. Aside from three Belgians, he had the place to himself.
Maybe that was a one-off, I thought, a special stroke of Molise luck. But then we found ourselves at a family-run cheese factory, Azienda Agricola Carmela Colavecchio, in the hills outside Campobasso. Carmela and Mario had prevailed several days earlier in a national competition for caciocavallo, the southern Italian cow’s milk cheese. Cheesemakers can be big deals in Italy, and many offer regular tours of their operation. Mario, a former hang-gliding instructor, said he gets many visitors at their farm, too, but given how it went — so unplanned and heartfelt — I found that hard to believe.
We saw the cheesemaking process, of course, led by his wife, Carmela. Then he invited us to walk with his sheep as they ambled to a pasture, led by volunteer shepherds. For a while, we were out there in the field, unsupervised, snacking on wild blackberries. We returned to find Mario wrapping up the day, and he invited us into his home. He played music for us. He introduced us to his friends. As the temperature dipped, he asked if we wanted to go meet his cows, and he grabbed a flannel jacket for our son that was about 12 sizes too big, wrapping it around him as they walked.
Molise’s cuisine is heavy on meats, cheese and wild vegetables. On Google, the restaurants that serve them might have just a few blurry photos. But more often than not they are gems. One day we pulled off a highway to a little trattoria where you could smell the smoked meat even from the parking lot. The door hung open, just some string beads blocking the entrance, and inside a TV played the U.S. Open. We sat down to simple plates of pasta, served only with parmigiano reggiano and a jar of chili flakes.
There under the lights, we ate spicy salami, caciocavallo, eggplant fritters and prosciutto where even the fat tasted good. We ate a soup of chickpeas and carrots that looked homemade but tasted like something unattainable. We ate a pasta of ancient grains with pesto and tomato, spiked with a lively olive oil. We ate pampanella, a spiced, tender pork with peppers. The meal stretched for two hours, then nearly three, and we ended up breaking all the bedtime boundaries and laughing about not caring. Our 4-year-old, after finishing his pasta and playing in the field, fell asleep in the stroller. Our baby fell asleep in the carrier. By the end it was just eight or nine tables in the near-darkness, and Lilian remarked that what made the meal so special wasn’t any particular bite, but rather the unabashed simplicity. No dollops of any precious delicacy. No eye toward plating.
Themen: Italy