02x07 - Puglia

[bunniefuu]

- Hello.

I'm in Puglia,
which is the heel...

Can you see me through
the olive branches?

They're hard to avoid in Puglia,

a region that's home to
60 million olive trees.

That's one olive tree for
every Italian in Italy.

This region is Italy at
its most elemental...

Simple, fresh cuisine that's
grown and produced here,

fragrant olive oil,
beautiful vegetables,

cheeses renowned the world over.

Focaccia. Si.

And durum wheat for
pasta and bread.

Look at that.

I'm Stanley Tucci.

I'm fascinated by
my Italian heritage,

so I'm traveling across
Italy to discover how

the food in each of this
country's 20 regions

is as unique as the
people and their past.

You really want it
to be like that.

- Need to be like this.

- Despite being such
a fertile region,

Puglia is also one
of Italy's poorest.

- It was nicknamed
the shame of Italy.

- Located in the south,
a place the Italians call

Il Mezzogiorno, or "high noon,"

because of the intensity
of the midday sun,

poverty and hardship
are very much

a recent memory in
this part of the world.

- But today, Puglia is
coming into its own.

There's a newfound
sense of pride

for its gastronomic roots...

And an appreciation for
its rugged landscape.

So I want to find
out how this region

has seemingly gone
from rags to riches...

- Grazie.

- And turned its
humblest ingredients

into sources of national pride.

You're very smart, aren't you?

That's it. That's the story.

Puglia is the heel
of Italy's boot,

a long, thin peninsula

with more than 500
miles of coastline.

Puglia's capital, Bari,

sits perched on
the eastern coast.

Walking around the city,

you're aware of two
worlds colliding,

a struggle between the way
things have always been done

versus the...
delights, shall we say,

of modern bureaucracy.

A major trading post
since Roman times,

Bari has served as a gateway
to Greece, the Middle East,

and beyond.

Port cities are notorious
for hustlers and crime,

and while Bari may have
seen its fair share of that,

if you look a little
closer, the city reveals

its distinctive charm...

- Something author and
guide Sophie Minchilli

has a longstanding respect for.

- Hi, Stan.
- Hi.

How are you?
- Good.

How are you? Welcome to Bari.

- Oh, thank you very much.

Do you live here now or no?

- I don't live here,
but my dad grew up in

the building right behind you.
- In this one?

He grew up there?
- Yeah.

- Really?

- My great grandparents
were architects.

They did the building
and the whole seafront.

- Wow.
- Pretty cool.

- Yeah, that is pretty cool.
- Yeah.

- Yes, you're very...
- I'm proud.

- Connected to the city. Yeah.
- Yeah, I am.

- Sophie's first taking
me to Bari's port

to see one of the most
ancient but not strictly legal

Barese institutions,

the fishermen of
Molo San Nicola.

- It's sort of
semi-legal, let's say.

They don't really have
a permit to sell fish.

They sell it anyways.

But nobody chases them away?

- No. They've tried
over the years,

but they still stay strong.

- They stay.
- Yeah.

- In an industry that's
increasingly regulated,

these fishermen are determined
to continue trading.

- They speak a
strong Barese dialect

that even most Italians
would struggle to understand,

competing with
each other to sell

a wide array of
seafood to passersby.

Ciao, ciao, ciao.

- It's really typical in Bari

to eat raw seafood, in general.

They call it the sushi of Italy.

- The Barese have been
eating raw seafood here

as far back as the 1500s.

- So they're called tagliatelle

because they're cut
in thin strip...

- 'Cause they look
like tagliatelle.

- But they're not, obviously.

- But it's octopus.

Right? Is it octopus?

- It's squid.
- It's squid.

- Yeah.

- To prep the squid,
the fishermen beat it

to tenderize it, then
rock it in seawater

to help retain its
shape and texture.

- Do you understand anything?
- Not at all.

- It's almost impossible.

It's another language.

- It is another language, yeah.

- Ready to try some?
- Yes, oh, yes.

- It's delicious.

I love it.

- Oh, I think he wants that...

- Si.

- He wants us to go
eat it over there.

We can't eat it right here.
- Ah. Grazie.

- Grazie.
- Thank you.

Thank you. Thank you.

Police tolerate

the fishermen selling fish here.

Just don't get seen eating
it anywhere near them.

- You never know how many
of them there will be,

but there's always
someone selling fish.

- Okay, let's try it.

I mean, all right.

- So, yeah, you just eat it.

Chewy.

- Yeah, but it's not that chewy.

- No.
- It's not that bad.

- I know. It's good, right?

- No, with the lemon, yeah.
- Yeah.

- Do you want more?

- Sure.

- Do I want more?

- If you like it.

- I do like it, actually.

I didn't... I didn't
expect to like it.

A few minutes' walk
from Lungomare,

and we're in the
Old Town of Bari,

Bari Vecchia.

- It's like a maze.

Like, the further
you get into it,

it's all little alleyways
like this and arches.

- Yeah.

- When I was a kid, it
was actually considered

sort of dangerous to come
to the old part of Bari.

- Oh, really?

- And now, I think
this is one of the most

beautiful roads in Italy.

- Some 6,000 people form a
tight-knit community here,

where the reality of life

is in evidence
everywhere you look.

- No separation.

I mean, that's the space...
- No.

- They have, and
they make the most.

- Yeah. Yeah.

- Their laundry's outside.

But the underwear
is always behind.

Nobody sees it.

- Oh, really?
- Yeah.

If you look... if you
look, you know it is.

The underwear's always behind.

It's about 2,000 years
old, so it is really old.

- It's pretty old, yeah.

The list of powers
that have invaded Bari

is as long as your arm,

and after centuries under siege,

the Barese could be
forgiven for developing

a certain disdain for
whatever authority

happened to replace
the previous one.

- What'd he say?

- "Take a picture of
me holding the beer."

- Now we're walking
through Arco Basso,

which is also known as
the Orecchiette Road.

- Orecchiette Road.

- Because you'll see
there's a lot of women

making orecchiette.
- Orecchiette.

With many of their
husbands out at sea,

the women were left
to fend for themselves

and provide for the family.

Around the 1950s, they
started making orecchiette,

or "little ears," to
sell from their homes.

But a few years ago,

the council tried
to stop their trade.

- For hygiene purposes,
you can't really

be making pasta out of your home

and selling it to
people at restaurants.

But just like the
fish market, they...

- They just kept going.
- They stayed strong.

- Orecchiette for these
ladies are a way of life.

And while they can't
sell to restaurants,

they fought back
and won the right

to sell for personal use.

- Now they actually
have a role in society.

They're bringing money
to the neighborhood.

- Yeah. Sure. Yeah.
- They're working.

- The more time I spend
here, the more I see

that the Barese are doing
things their own way.

A few minutes away, Sophie
wants to introduce me

to a dish that's full
of Barese attitude.

At Urban Bistro,
Chef Celso Laforgia

makes a dish unique to the city

and one that you'll find
nowhere else in Italy.

Why is it called "assassina"?

- Because the ones who
tried for the first time,

he called the chef a k*ller.

- Oh, because it was so spicy.

- Because it was so
spicy and burning.

- How do you make it?
- I can... I can start?

- Yeah, go!
- Yeah?

Okay, you start with olive oil.

- Yes.
- Chili.

If you prefer more
spice and more...

- Me, no.
- So we put that...

- Just a little bit.
- Gentle.

- The two things that
you need to do it

is a powerful fire
and a big pot.

- To fit the whole spaghetti.

- So you're just putting
in raw spaghetti?

- Yes.

- Pasta is basically
never cooked this way.

- And then we put hot
water and tomato sauce.

- Like a marinara, sort of.

- Like a marinara sauce, yes.

- The trick is to burn it
enough to make it crunchy

but not so much
that it's bitter.

- So it's gone.

- Oh, my God.
- Look at that.

- So it really is... you
really want it to be like that.

- Yes, it needs to be,

if you want to call assassina.

- Celso's method goes against
everything I've ever learned

about cooking pasta,
taking it dangerously close

to complete incineration.

- Different colors,
different textures.

- And the key to
knowing it's ready?

Use your ears.

- Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

- Oh, now I'm getting
the picante a little bit.

- A little bit?
- Just a little.

- I'm sweating.

Wow, that's really great, Celso.

- Thank you very much.

- Honestly, I've never seen

anything like that before.

I love that.

And I've been around too.

The assassina is a dish

that could have only been
created in a city like this.

Like its people, it's
fiery, uncompromising,

and it breaks all the rules.

Wow.

Beyond its many
agricultural riches,

Puglia's most prized
contribution has to be wheat,

something local chef Pietro Zito

has developed a unique
appreciation for.

- We're in the north,
in the Foggia province,

known as the
breadbasket of Italy

because it produces
more durum wheat

than anywhere else
in the country.

But that wasn't always

the case.

- Yeah, it's nice.

- Si.

Like most people in
this part of Puglia,

Pietro Zito's connection
to wheat goes back

to Benito Mussolini's
reforms in the 1920s.

- Si.

- Mussolini thought
self-sufficiency

through increased
food production

was key to establishing
Italy as a world power,

but in reality,

what the farmers
actually received

were often inferior
plots of land.

Unconcerned,
Mussolini pushed ahead

with his expansionist ambitions.

And he took to the
fields himself,

displaying his
wheat-threshing muscle

in a bid to persuade
Italian farmers to persevere

with the land they were given.

In the end,
Mussolini's aspirations

dragged Italy and her
people first into w*r,

then into recession,

with the poorest left to survive

by scavenging for whatever
they could find in the fields,

even remnants of burnt wheat.

- To prepare fields
for the next seeding,

any straw left
over after harvest

used to be cleared
by burning it off.

- The stigma of having to
resort to such extremes

would linger for decades.

- But Pietro is on a mission

to revive these simple flavors.

- Buongiorno.

- And his friend
Nicola L'Agrasta

has developed a modern
technique for recreating it.

- Toasting the
grain is a delicate,

yet labor intensive process.

- But it produces a dark flour

which can be used
for making bread

as well as the
Puglian snack taralli,

a kind of cross between a
cr*cker and a breadstick.

With some of the...

- Yeah.
- Yeah. Yeah.

They're really good.

- Mmm. Mmm.

They're really good.

The flour is used
to make dark pasta,

which Pietro prepares
for his restaurant

Antichi Sapori, or
"Ancient Flavors,"

in the town of Montegrosso,

with the help of a local expert.

Using a mixture of
burnt and white grain

to ensure the flavor
is not too bitter,

Concetta crafts each
individual orecchiette

by hand.

Her kitchen days
may be behind her,

but she still has plenty
of advice for the chefs.

- No, no, no, no, no.

Pietro's going to show me

how he prepares
his signature dish,

burnt grain orecchiette
in a cream of fava beans,

topped with burrata and
charred black olives.

- Si.

- Si.

Si.

- Oh, it's beautiful.

Fava beans are a favorite
staple of Puglia.

But cooked with onions
and blended with oil,

they become smooth and creamy.

- Mm-hmm.

- Mm-hmm.

- Yeah.

- Yeah.

Oh, come on.

- That is amazing.

Yep. Yep. Yep.

Oh, my God, that's so good.

Thank you.

- Yeah. Oh, yeah.

But it's so unusual.

Pietro has revived these flavors

with such skill and affection

that, despite their
humble origins,

his dishes now hold their
own as world class cuisine.

There's a dignity
to his approach,

and if his packed restaurant
is anything to go by,

it's welcomed by
the whole community.

- As we're driving
through Puglia,

you see these buildings
that are ubiquitous,

called trulli,

and they're these
conical-shaped buildings

with a little finial on top.

And they're built that way
because, in the 14th century,

there were very
high property taxes.

When the tax man come
around, they would basically

deconstruct the
top of the house,

and then you weren't
taxed on your house

if it hadn't been completed.

And then the tax
man would leave,

and then they would
rebuild the house again.

They don't take
them apart anymore.

That's it. That's the story.

They're so cool, though.

No place else in the world
really has... has them.

These little cone-shaped
clusters of houses

tell you something
about the people here.

They were nearly always built
in groups of four or five,

so families could share
not just the land,

but things like wells
and communal ovens.

One of the main towns
in the Valle dei Trulli

is Cisternino.

Among its labyrinth of alleyways

and whitewashed buildings,

you'll find Puglians
going for a passeggiata,

the age-old tradition
of taking a stroll.

And if you follow your nose,

chances are you'll
stumble across

one of the many fornellis,

like Bère Vecchie,

run by young
restaurateur Vito Zurlo.

Si.

Opened by Vito's
grandfather in 1927,

this fornello isn't your
average butcher shop,

but we'll get into
that in a minute.

- Wow.

- Si.

Cisternino's fornelli grew

from the ancient tradition

of communal feasting
at village fairs.

So keeping that tradition alive,

the modern fornelli
don't just sell the meat.

They cook it for
you on the spot.

- Bombette.

Bombette means "little b*mb,"

a reference to the
expl*si*n of flavor

that comes from cooking

the tastiest strips
of fatty pork neck

filled with, well,
just about anything.

- The fat from the pork netting

enhances the flavor
of the offcuts

used in these gnummareddi rolls.

So what started out as a snack
created from affordable meat

that would otherwise
be discarded

has evolved into
a local delicacy.

- Okay, great.

- Si, si, si.

- Si, si.

- Si, si, si.

The same type of oven
used hundreds of years ago

is still used today.

With indirect heat ensuring
everything gets cooked evenly,

they load the fattiest
cuts at the top

so the meat below is
completely drenched

in the delicious juices.

And after just 15 minutes...

- Wow.

The first one...

- Really?
- Si.

- Okay, then I have
to try this one.

- Mmm.

Mmm. Okay.

That is really good.

That's like...
That's like perfect.

All that fat.

I love that.

- Mm, no.

- Mm-hmm.

- Really?

- And with the gnummareddi
to finish things off...

It's good.

My want for protein is
well and truly sated.

- Si.
- Oh. I can breathe easy.

Way more than just
a festival of meat,

what these fornelli
really celebrate

is something that people here
cottoned onto a long time ago.

Grazie. Grazie.

That no matter what
you're consuming,

it tastes a lot better

when you share it
with someone else.

- In the Andrea area of Puglia,

nestled among a
sea of olive trees,

is the Petroni Olive Farm.

Here, Agostino
Petroni and his family

tend to over 13,000 trees
all planted by his father.

- We use olive oil

for literally everything
in our cuisine.

Whenever I travel
around the world,

both me and my
brother, we always have

a little can of our olive oil.

- You do travel with it?
- Yeah.

No olive oil?
- I...

- You cannot just like,
please, take this away.

I don't want it anymore.

- Look... Look who
you're talking to.

I'm... you know, I'm
obsessed with it, yeah.

Yeah.

- I mean, in front of us,

we have about 2
million olive trees.

Andrea produces as
much as Tuscany,

to give you an idea.

- Whoa.

That's huge.
- Yeah.

And we actually sell lots
of olives to Tuscany.

- And they put it
in their olive oil?

- Yeah.
- I won't tell.

- I should not say this.
- I won't tell anybody.

Wow.

The taste of Puglian olive oil

is exceptional.

Terrain, climate,
and mineral-rich soil

combine here to create
a unique peppery flavor

that's revered the world over.

It's way more than just a
source of Puglian pride.

With some 60 million trees
being harvested to produce

over 50% of Italy's supply,
Puglian oil production employs

a huge number of people...

Over 100,000 in
this region alone,

which is why it's so
disturbing to discover

that this thriving historic
industry is under attack

from a ruthless invader.

The first casualties
are 150 miles away

in the wild reaches of Salento.

It's so far south, the
Romans never even bothered

building roads here.

- As you can see,
everything is dead.

- Yeah, completely dead.
- Yeah.

- And these are ancient trees?

- These are about 800 years
old to 1,000 years old.

- Having watched
over the community

for hundreds of years, a
staggering 20 million trees

here in the south are under
attack from a deadly virus.

- It's called
Xylella fastidiosa.

So it arrived with a
bacteria on a plant.

And then one of the
insects that lives in here

bit this infected plant

and got the bacteria
in its saliva.

When an insect goes
on an olive tree...

- Yeah.

- And bites the
leaf an olive tree,

the tree slowly
dies and dries out.

- When the virus was first
announced to be the cause

of the trees dying, in 2013,

many Puglians flat-out
refused to believe it.

- What really disturbed
people is to think

that the trees have
been so resilient

for thousands of years...

- Yeah.

- In a couple of years,
there was just...

They just started to die.

People could not believe
what was happening.

There was lots of rebellion.

And there were lots of
conspiracy theories.

And it was so crazy
that the researchers

that were trying to stop
the spread of the disease

got investigated.

- Really?
- Yeah.

- 'Cause they didn't trust them?

- No, because the idea...
They were basically saying

that it was the scientists'
fault that this disease

was basically spreading so much.

- In fact, we have
scientists to thank

for the discovery that
certain types of olive tree

are resistant to the bacteria.

Caught early enough,
they can be used

to improve resistance
in ancient trees

through a process of grafting.

Otherwise, it's a question

of ripping out the
old trees altogether.

- It's advancing about 20,
30 kilometers every year.

We are facing a
situation that we either

plant these varieties
that are resistant...

- Yeah.
- Or we won't have

any more olives in this area.

- It's that... it's that simple.

- Yeah, it's that simple.

- Their presence is commanding
even in this state of decay.

But back at Agostino's farm,

with views across
the thriving groves

and a table laden with
the fruits of their labor,

it's heartening to
hear that his family

has wasted no time in
addressing the issue.

How many new trees
have you planted,

the variety that's resistant?

800 plants.

- 800 plants.

- And 2,000 of Leccino.

But I hope to... To
save the others too.

- So can we taste the olive oil?

- Of course.

- This is... these
are the olives

we were looking at before?

- Yeah, this is the best
olive oil in the world.

- According to
the producer, yes.

- Yeah.

- I show you now how to do it.

- Show me how to do it.

- You have to make
it a little warmer.

All the flavor comes up.

- Up.
- Then you have to smell it.

- I didn't know it was
going to be so complicated.

- We take this very seriously.

- Yeah, this I know.

- Then we have to taste it.

Yes?

- Okay.

- But there is a
specific way to do it.

I won't do it.

- What are you doing?

- In this way...

The oil will...
- Aerate.

- Yeah, will aerate. Yeah.

- Yes, aerate.
- Aerate.

Yeah.

- Wait, how'd you do it?

- You pull your tongue
up and then you...

Yeah, but that's
delicious, though.

The reverence for the trees
and what they produce here

is akin to that felt
towards community elders.

With such mystical
qualities, no wonder the oil

is seen as key to unlocking
the sublime flavors

of any simple ingredients
it happens to touch...

- And then you can put
this oil in all this food.

- Friselle being
the perfect example.

Take a dry rusk of bread,
throw on a few fresh tomatoes,

and a healthy glug of your
finest Puglian olive oil...

- And there you
have it, dry bread

magically brought back to life.

What could taste out of date
tastes out of this world.

That is really good oil.

People can say, "Oh, our oil
this," or, "Oh, our oil that,"

but actually, this
is really good.

Thanks to the efforts of
families like Agostino's

to save their beloved
trees, Puglians have gone

from refusing to accept
there was a problem...

Thank you.

To refusing to accept defeat.

Thank you so much. Thanks.

- Grazie. Grazie.

- Dominated by its
13th century cathedral,

the Puglian city Altamura

is known across
Italy for its bread.

And in Italy, wherever
you find good bread,

chances are you'll
also find good cheese.

Caseificio Dicecca is run
by a close-knit family

of cheesemakers orcasari.

But young maverick
casaro Vito...

Buongiorno.

Has big ideas of his own.

- Nice to meet you.

This is my sister, Victoria.

- Nice to meet
you. A pleasure.

And there are more, right?

- Yeah, five of us.

And we work here all together.

- How is that?
- Amazing.

- Is it?
- Yeah.

- Sometimes it's a little hard?

- Yeah. You know, we
fight every day...

- Yeah.

- But at the same time,

we love each other.

- And your grandfather...

- Yeah.
- Started this.

- Angel Antonio, my grandfather,

bought this place.

But before him, his father,

he start in a farm in Altamura

with nothing, with
two, three cows,

and he start to make mozzarella,

scamorza, caciocavallo.

- Four generations of Diceccas
have continued to make

these iconic
Southern-Italian cheeses.

- Follow me please, Stanley.
- I will. I will.

But bucking
convention, Vito chose

not to join the family business,

escaping Puglia to
travel the world instead.

When he told people
he was a cheesemaker,

he was surprised how
enthusiastic they were.

He returned to his
family's caseificio

eager not just to continue
the family tradition

but to do something
no one in this region

Create
a Puglian blue cheese.

- As you know, Puglia is
most famous for burrata.

- Yeah.

- So today, I want to show
you what I did 15 years ago.

This was my first blue
cheese I did in Puglia.

- Vito has created 66
different types of blue.

Pretty impressive
when you consider

how hard they are to make.

Typically, mold is injected
into a cow's milk base,

which is left to age
in mountain caves

for up to six months.

- Right now, wherever you
go, you find Gorgonzola.

It's an amazing cheese.

But I want to do my own cheese.

So we break it.

This one is a goat blue cheese,

one of the stronger taste
cheese that we have.

And this is the
heart of the burrata.

It's a burrata cream.

- Oh. So then this
is a cow's milk?

- This is cow's milk.
- Cow's milk.

- But the base, it's...

- Is goat milk?
- Goat. Yeah.

So we break like this.

- What made you
think to do this?

- I live in California
for a while.

- Oh, you did?
- Yeah, in Pasadena.

- Oh, in Pasadena.

- And I love surfing,
so, you know,

the blue of the ocean.

So I want to do blue cheese.

While Vito's brothers
were open-minded

about creating new cheeses,

a Puglian blue was a step
too far for the family.

- Si. Si, si.

Eventually, with the
help of his family's

constructive criticism,
Vito perfected the recipe,

and a spoonful of blue was born.

- So...
- Yes.

- These are taralli...
- Yes.

- Made by my mom.
- Yes.

- So we dip the tarallo
inside the blue cheese.

- That's really incredible.

- Yeah.
- The mixture of the two...

You have the
sharpness of the blue,

but then it's... it's softened
by the... by the burrata.

- Yes.
- That's incredible.

You're very smart, aren't you?

Others might be
content to stop there,

but Vito's continually
improving on his creations

and experimenting
with new ideas.

And where better
to put his theories

to the ultimate taste test

than a cheese bar,

which he opened with
his fiancée, Roberta,

in the middle of the
Mercadante Forest

just outside Altamura.

So here...

- I've never heard of
a cheese bar before.

- Yeah.
- I like this.

- This is the only
one in the world.

- Here, customers enjoy
the full selection

of Vito's invented cheeses.

But he's never forgotten
how he started out

on this unconventional journey.

- Cheeses.
- Cheeses.

One item on the menu
is focaccia barese,

which Vito's mother used to make

for his school lunches.

- So when I used
to get in a class,

I was bullied with the
sounds of a cow, like, "Moo."

- They... they bullied you?

- Yes.
- Yeah.

- So has that changed now,

the way people
view cheesemakers?

- You're like a hero now.

- Yeah, yeah, yeah.

- So we put the burrata

on top of the
focaccia, like this.

- Grazie.

- Stanley.

- Thank you.

Mmm. That's delicious.

That's so good.

Listening to Vito's stories,

it makes perfect
sense that for him,

both profession and family
are inextricably linked.

We call her "Baby
Burrata" when she born.

And who knows?

Thanks to Vito's drive

to revitalize the
family business,

their daughter, Chiara,
might just represent

the fifth generation of casari.

- Straying just a little

from the flat terrain of Puglia,

I'm making my way
to one of Italy's

most ancient and perhaps
most unique cities.

In the neighboring
region of Basilicata

lies the city of Matera.

Until the 17th century,

this was actually
part of Puglia,

and the two regions
have been long tied

through a shared history
and culinary heritage.

Take a stroll, and you'll
see the usual stuff...

People going about
their business,

maybe even treating
themselves to a pastry.

May I recommend
thetette delle monache,

or nuns' breasts?

They're a local specialty.

It's a long story.

- Hi, Stan.
- Francesco.

- Nice to meet you.
- Nice to meet you too.

None of this seems
remarkable, perhaps,

but it wasn't always like this,

as local historian Francesco
Foschino well knows.

And this is your city?

- Yes, this is my city.

I was born here,
my grandparents,

my great grandparents,
and so on.

- Really?
- Yes.

I have a surprise for you.
- Really?

- Yes.
- All right.

- Just around the corner.
- All right.

A few steps from the
relative modernity

of the town square,

we are transported back in time.

- That's Matera old city.

- That's incredible.

I've never seen an Italian
city like this before.

- No, it's quite unique.
- Yeah, yeah.

This ancient town grew across
one slope of the rocky ravine

known locally as "La Gravina,"

and although it dates back
to the 10th century BC,

for many, it will trigger
more recent memories.

From the last James
Bond movie, right?

- Oh, yeah.

That has been the first movie

when Matera in the cinema

was actually Matera and
not some other places.

Because during the
'50s and the '90s,

when most of the
movies were shot,

the old city was
completely abandoned

and deserted.
- Really?

- And when we, from
Matera, wanted to see

our old city alive,

we had to go to
the movie theater.

- So a lot of this
was just abandoned?

- All of this.
- Abandoned?

- Abandoned.
- And then people lived

sort of around it.
- Exactly.

- The Sassi's labyrinth
of underground caves

were occupied since
the Paleolithic Age.

Look at that. What is that?

Is that a church in there?
- Yes.

In that little mountain, there
are two churches that are dug.

- They dug into the mountain...
- Exactly.

- To build the church. Amazing.

Poor sanitation and poverty
meant disease was rampant.

But little was done about it
until the 1950s when Matera

became a valuable
tool in securing

post-w*r funding
for Southern Italy

through America's Marshall Plan.

All of a sudden, it was
in Italy's interests

not just to pay
attention, but to play up

Matera's desperate conditions.

- It became so infamous

that it was nicknamed
the shame of Italy.

Can you believe
that? Such a beauty?

- No, it's incredible.

The label served its purpose.

Money was secured,
modern homes built,

and the caves abandoned.

But now a new generation
has emerged...

People like Francesco
and, more recently,

Chef Vitantonio Lombardo,

who has turned an abandoned cave

into a restaurant
that celebrates

Matera's complicated history.

- Customers here enjoy
dishes with inventive names

like "I dropped an
egg in the garden"

and "Drone view of La Murgia."

Not just full of flavor,

his recipes are
loaded with symbolism,

with one dish in particular

capturing Matera's
incredible transformation.

- These glands, essentially
offal or sweetbread,

are something the
Materani would have eaten

100 years ago.

But the twist is it's
then shaped and covered

in dark breadcrumbs to make
it look like a black truffle,

the very symbol of decadence.

- While the sweetbread
and the filet

are cooked in the oven,

the plate is prepared
with a unique dusting.

- The last elements are
a rich red wine reduction

contrasted with a
simple potato puree.

- Oh, yeah.

- Si.

- Okay?
- Yeah.

That's fantastic.

I love that you
made this look...

- Yeah, that's amazing.

Okay?
- Beautiful.

- Thank you.

Wow.

- Okay?
- No...

- Si, si, si, si.

- That is amazing.

I gotta say... wow.

- Vitantonio's strength
lies in paying tribute

to the very things he was
supposed to be ashamed of.

As with everyone
I've met in Puglia,

this spirit of innovation
was forged out of hard times.

But by reclaiming their past,

the Puglisi are going beyond
setting the record straight.

They're writing
their own script,

and for once, it's
on their terms.