Apulia: Off the Beaten Path
As an Italophile, I’m embarrassed to say I hadn’t thought about going to Apulia until 2019, as I was on the plane back to the US after visiting Sicily for the nth time. I’d just toured my family around the island, shuttling them in a Giulietta from the Baroque cities—Ragusa, Modica, and Noto—to experience olive oil, cannoli, chocolate and almond gelato, to the ruins of Agrigento. It’s always hard to return to California after being immersed in so many delectable foods and rugged landscapes, that I typically start imagining where I’ll visit the next time before I’ve even left. As in-flight magazines were still a thing in 2019, I pored over the map of Italy to see what called out to me. The heel! I had heard of Lecce, the beautiful town in the southernmost Salento region of Apulia, and Matera, for its ancient stone dwellings (though technically in the Basilicata region), but certainly there was more to experience in that part of Italy as well.
Handmade orecchiette in the old town of Bari, in the Apulia region of Italy. Photograph by Rolling Pen Studio
The next couple of years gave me ample time for online research and preparation.
I started taking notes on what I wanted to eat: focaccia barese (olive oil-rich bread topped with tomatoes and olives), bread from Altamura, pasta all’assassina (the killer spaghetti from Bari), wine and olive oil cookies, and extra virgin olive oil, to name a few. And then there was the local wine list I knew nothing about, but was more than willing to try.
By the time I traveled in the fall of 2021, I was ready to hit the ground running . . . to my number 1 and 2 focaccerie! My B&B host in Bari was marginally unimpressed when I mentioned my quest for focaccia, but I understood our cultural differences. When you’re used to great food around every corner, it just fades into the background a bit.
Ready to be devoured: risella and pasticciotto on a tabletop in Apulia, Italy. Photograph by Rolling Pen Studio
Apulia is less about museums and ruins than it is taking in the local food, beaches and land, and character of its people. With that in mind, here are some of my recommendations on what to do and where to go that will really give you a taste of non-touristy Apulia.
Bari
I still don’t understand why, but bloggers and guidebooks overlook Bari. It’s referred to mostly as a transit point between international airport and other areas like Matera, or the Salento. Maybe a tour group or two begins their journey here. For an afternoon. No, no, no, I say. It’s such a treat to stay in this port town. Why? Without a doubt, the food. There are local dishes to try, from pasta all’assassina (“killer” spaghetti with crushed red pepper and burrata), focaccia barese, almost a pizza studded with fresh and local tomatoes, olives and a generous pour of olive oil, orrecchiette con cime di rapa (little ear pasta with broccoli rabe), to the local seafood that can’t be experienced elsewhere. Walk the streets of Bari Vecchia (old town) and take pictures of the seasoned pasta-making ladies, and pick up bags of homemade wine cookies and taralli. Walk along the main avenue to take part in the evening passeggiata and watch local life. There are some big city amenities in a low-key small town. Give it a chance! And if you settle in for a few days, take the time to go to nearby seaside towns like Polignano a Mare, Monopoli, or Trani.
Small and Random Beaches
No matter where you’re staying in Apulia, you’re probably not very far from the shore. On the last Sunday in September, I drove to a seaside spot known as Calette di Torre Cintola. I found it from a YouTuber’s video when she and her husband located this secluded beach spot. It’s different, containing old ruins built into the water, creating pockets where visitors can sunbathe or set up their beach furniture and picnic.
Unlike in the video, the beach was fairly full of people when I arrived, but I found an elevated, slightly uncomfortable alcove to sit in, and took joy in observing a group of 50-somethings from Bari who, at 11 am, were lounging and laughing while some gingerly stepped into the still-warm waters, shrieking that it was too cold to go in. One man pulled out a plastic bag of small squid, and moved to shallow waters where he cleaned his seafood with bottled water. After a spell, he returned to his party and offered everyone the snack he’d been laboring over. Suddenly, small plastic cups appeared and beer was poured, while food paper was unwrapped revealing fresh focaccia. “Salute!” they cried, making their brindisi (a.k.a toast) to the last summer Sunday morning among friends at the beach. Does life really get better than that?
The water was nice, too. I enjoyed my swim, but the daydream of being integrated with my imaginary Apulian friends was more entertaining. Eventually I worked up the courage to ask a couple members of the party where they got their focaccia, but they shook their heads and told me it was from Bari (about an hour from the beach), and instead suggested I try another spot up the road. I took their advice and enjoyed a buffet of local pasta and focaccia. All this to say—look at Google Maps for the small beaches and immerse yourself among locals there on a weekend.
Olive Oil Tasting in the Valle d’Itria
My Bari host Agatha’s face lit up when I outlined my travel plans to her. “You’re going to the Valle d’Itria?” After Bari, next stop the small village of Locorotondo. “Not many tourists go there.” While I’m not sure this is true—many DO go to nearby Alberobello, known for its trulli, the round, bleached-white dwellings with cone-shaped roofs—it is possible that fewer take the time to go where I was headed, or to nearby villages like Martina Franca (known for its horsemeat!), Ostuni, or Cisternino. Personally, I was drawn to this area for its olive oil. Apulia produces roughly 40% of the country’s olive oil, and is supposedly home to some of the best.
Using Maps to locate the azienda agricola or frantoi, I targeted the well-reviewed Agriolea, in the countryside just outside Ostuni. The passion that its owner, Massimo Iaia, has for the product, and the time he took to explain the oil-making process and how to properly taste it made it one of the most unique experiences during my travels. He spent a good half hour explaining the olive oil-making process, followed by an education in how to properly taste olive oil (this includes an obscene sound as you inhale oxygen while holding oil in the back of your mouth).
A tasting is a common experience out here, and it’s worth the time to find a frantoio or two to taste their wares and learn more about the process. (Look for azienda agricola di oliva or frantoio on Google Maps.) You’ll not only find better oils than what you’ll see in the supermarkets, you’ll support local small and mid-sized olive oil producers, gain an education in liquid gold, and come away with bottled treasures that you can tuck into your checked bags.
Breads of Altamura and Matera
When McDonald’s set up shop in Altamura in the 1980s, the local bakers put up a fight. As the Italian Slow Food movement was getting started, they were defensive of their local products, and worried about the poor quality of American fast food and how it would ruin people’s health, not to mention their businesses. Their protests eventually culminated in the Golden Arches shutting down operations there while locals became even more proud of their own fast food—focaccia—and honoring their region’s bread.
Today, the bread of Altamura is the only bread that has European PDO status (Protected Designation of Origin), and will still be soft on the inside after two days and a 30 hour plane ride home! I picked up a loaf while driving through the town on the day before my flight back to the US, and I continued slicing it for several more days. Semolina gives the bread its rich, yellow hue, and it has a signature hump in the crust that distinguishes it from other southern Italian breads. Its rival, the bread from Matera, has a similar taste, but don’t let anyone from these parts know you’ve confused the two. The Materan bread has a slight crescent shape with three little mounds on top. Either bread makes a nice breakfast toast with jam or nutella.
The Little Villages of the Salento
Galatina is charming and a must for food lovers, as it’s home to the pasticciotto, a shortcrust dough wrapped around a thick pastry cream filling. It has to be eaten fresh out of the oven; the warmth mixed with the light vanilla flavor makes it a comforting and creamy treat.
Italy likes to promote its small villages with the Borghi Più Belli d’Italia (Italy’s most beautiful villages). These popped up on tourist maps I was handed while traveling. While they are on the list for a reason, there are plenty of villages that deserve a closer look that still aren’t on the list. Ruffano, in the Salento province (the deepest part of the heel), is one of these. A restaurant lured me to this town, and although I wasn’t crazy about night driving through pitch-black and unfamiliar countryside roads, I’ll admit it was worth it to get there. I walked by a handful of old men who were speaking in dialect in the piazza (classic), and the medieval feel of the place made it feel enchanted. The food at Farmacia dei Sani was divine (spaghetti alla colatura and anchovy dripping sauce–it’s way better than it sounds), and it was nice to find a fine dining establishment in southern Italy that was headed by a female chef!
Mokambo Gelateria
Otherwise known as: the one that got away! The one I will come back to Apulia for! No matter where I go in Italy, I end up searching for the best gelato in town. But it was hard to find an exceptional gelato in Apulia, even in a bigger town like Bari. I came across Mokambo in preparation for my trip, and I planned out my last day with the rental car to be the one in which I stopped in Ruvo di Puglia just to try their ice cream. I wasn’t even going for their fancy scettro del re (king’s scepter), Persian saffron-infused gelato covered in a layer of edible gold, but even the basic scoops sounded great on account of the fresh almonds, pistachios, and other local ingredients they use in their products.
I rolled into town on a Tuesday morning, during their open hours, only to find the shop closed, no explanation as to why. This is the flip side to what makes some things so great about Italy: artisanal production, but on the owner’s terms. I’ll never know why they weren’t there that morning, but sometimes life just happens, you know? I later wrote to find out what had happened, but they just insisted they were open during that time, or that I should have contacted them. (I didn’t have a working SIM card while I was traveling, but it’s OK. Just a reason to return to Ruvo!)
Even though I didn’t get to taste their gelato, I’m relying on faith in all of the media and reviews that this place is special. Hopefully, if you get there first, you’ll enjoy a nice gelato and have a chance to meet the siblings who run the place as well.
