Pip and I, having re-visited many places that we had already been, largely to show someone else what we mean when we bang on about Puglia, decided to strike out to some places not part of our recent itineraries. A kind of dart-at-the-map adventure. We started by charting a course out of Lecce that would take us on roads we haven’t driven and that was an immediate success. We soon found ourselves traversing rich, olive-full landscapes, which changed into rich grape-full landscapes as we motored northwest. I don’t exaggerate when I say that either side of the road, as far as could be seen, were olive groves and grapevines. Really pleasant driving along country lanes - far different to the breakneck pace of driving in any town, city or village in this place.
In all honesty, our day started with a mishap. I tried our usual trick of selecting a town that the GPS could not navigate to via a main road, San Donaci, however I typed in San Donato, which is in entirely the opposite direction. I had wondered why the sun was on the wrong side of the car - oh well. Half an hour out - half an hour back and finally the sun was on the correct side of the car and we were bound for San Donaci, which was an unremarkable village with multiple roadside clementine and fennel stands. We aimed our beast for Oria, a place that read nicely, having been the death place of some King of Sparta or other and had Greek origins and strong Jewish links. This whole area is part of what’s called Magna Grecia and was settled by Greeks around the time of the Trojan war. Oria was reached through kilometers of rich countryside and wall-to-wall vines - it’s the heart of the region that produces my new favourite wine, Negroamaro.
Oria occupies the only only hill for miles around. We drove up the main street to arrive at an ornate gate into the old city. For once, parking was easy, though probably illegal. What a gorgeous little town. A lovely square leading up the hill through narrow streets to a large piazza at the top, o’erlooking (that’s as close to poetry as you’ll hear from me!) the fields below. There was a photogenic horse and donkey butcher; a Fiat Cinquecento parked picturesquely and a cranky old bastard in tracky daks and sandals and socks yelling at people. All that Instaworthiness made us hungry and we wheeled into an alley that promised a trattoria at the end. It was Quinto Quarto and we were the only ones there at the beginning of the meal.
We decided to eat a proper lunch (the drive from Lecce having been undertaken without a pit stop!) and here seemed fine. We shared some mixed polpette (fried balls of stuff) - potato, melanzane and some kind of minced equine. I had cavatelli with mushrooms and fennel sausages, while Pip had orichiette with cimi di rape and anchovies, topped with pangratato (made from crumbled taralle). This always comes with delicious bread and water and there may have been some wine. The chill of the weather did not bother us too much on the way back to the car.
Oria has now been added to the list of favorite places and those to recommend to those traveling to Puglia. We drove on to Cisternino, up into the Valle D’Itria, largely so Pip could clock an apartment she had once wanted to buy and which was still for sale. Cisternino’s old town is very walkable and very white. We soon found the apartment and Pip has decided we were right not to have bought it - too many 35cm high steps to reach the front door, and then, too small. So, further apartments will need to be inspected.
Home time after a quick coffee at the BarFOD in the square and after an hour and forty minutes we were wheeling into our car park. Across the road from our car park, apart from the Rocky Bar 1963, and Casa Antonio, an amazing wine shop that also sells, amongst other things, Iranian blue salt for €1.27 per gram, there is also a halal butchery. Pip had a hankering for a roast chicken and we had seen chickens in the display earlier in the day. While I parked the car, Pip ventured forth. She described the long wait while the African butcher, whom we will refer to ‘the knife ninja’ going forward, prepared a range of meats for the lady ahead in the queue. Apparently, by holding a chicken up in one hand and waving the knife around, the skin came right off in one go. He then cleavered the birds into portions on his bloody wooden block. Same proportions for the beef that met his blade. Pip had to resist his efforts to skin and portionise our bird and we managed to bring it home and roast it to great effect.
