I really have very few memories of it.
I've been dreaming of coming back to Calabria since I was a boy.
I don't remember it being this green.
It's absolutely beautiful.
It's a wild and rugged region, steeped in mystery and myth.
A place that's as troubled as it is beautiful.
But Calabria means something more to me.
It's my ancestral homeland, and I want to get to know the region
that my family left behind all those years ago.
Is this jogging your memory at all?
It's a long time ago.
I'm Stanley Tucci.
I'm Italian on both sides.
And I'm travelling across Italy to discover how the food in each
of this country's 20 regions is as unique as the people
and their past.
Caught between a rock and the sea,
the Calabrese are notoriously tough.
But this is a place where Southern hospitality is a way of life.
Oh, my gosh, look at the size of it.
You should open a restaurant!
And in this poor region,
every meal is a celebration.
Oh, wow! That's like a million different flavours in there.
Calabria sits in the toe of the boot of Italy, connected to Basilicata
in the north and separated from Sicily in the south,
only by the narrow strait of Messina.
It's a region of rugged landscapes, dramatic mountain ranges and some
500 miles of incredible coastline.
It doesn't have that infrastructure.
It's still a lot of abandoned buildings, a lot of poverty,
a lot of corruption.
It's really unfortunate because it is magnificent.
Like millions of Calabrians, all four of my grandparents
emigrated from this region with nothing
but the clothes on their backs.
So I'm headed first to see the birthplace of my grandfather,
Stanislaw Tucci, the man who my father and I are named after.
The town of Marzi, population, 900,
and happily, I'm being joined by two semi-experienced guides,
my parents, Joan and Stan Tucci.
Wow, look at that. Oh, look at the door.
That's beautiful.
This is nice.
We're walking down Via Morti.
Yeah, I saw that. The street of the dead.
How nice. I'm not going down there.
No, don't go there.
My father has been to Marzi once before, and because our family
is obsessed with our ancestry, he suggested we pay a visit
to the local town hall to see what we can dig up
about my grandfather's life.
So, what year, 1889?
My father. 1889.
OK, 89.
89.
There you go.
Stanislav. Yeah. Oh, wow.
Scarpellino, that was his mother?
Scarpellino is your vocation. Yeah.
Stone carver. Oh, a stone carver?
So he was born in 89.
When did he come to America? 1904.
So that makes him 15, 16 years old.
Did he ever come back to see his parents? Once.
They never came to America?
So he only basically saw his mother one more time,
from the time he was 16, 15, 16.
It's amazing. Yeah, it's incredible.
And a lot of immigrants did. I know, I know.
For a culture that is so family oriented... I know.
..to just move away is hard to believe.
Oh, there you go, Dad.
Look, it's your family home.
Familia Tucci. Yeah. Let's go in!
Wow. Could be a relative. Yeah.
As it turns out, being a Tucci isn't that remarkable over here.
Over half of Marzi's population shares our last name...
Is this what you remember?
..which turns out to be a big problem as my dad wants
to find his father's house.
My recollection, it was perfectly flat.
And there was a place with a... Let's go.
..huge clock at the top.
This is the clock that you just said, right?
You remember a flat area? Yeah, a flat area.
But do you remember where the house is?
I think it was down here.
Watch your step. Yes.
Is this jogging your memory at all?
It's a long time ago, that I remember.
I remember the square.
28.
That's number 30.
Then that's it.
So this, we think, could be the house where your father was born.
It's only the second time, and obviously memory fades.
Yes, I know, I know.
I've always wanted to come here, you know, because I never came...
No. ..when we were young. But we're glad we saw the town.
This town? Yeah, so pretty.
Yeah. Should we eat?
Sure. Sounds like a good idea.
Is there a restaurant called Tucci? Maybe.
But I'm not going to let you try to find it.
Marzi sits in the valley of the Savuto,
known as the valley of wheat,
where, fed by the mineral rich waters of the mountains,
there's a thousand year old history of bread making, and there's a place
nearby still making bread, according to ancient Calabrian tradition.
Wow!
Stanley,
Stanley, Giovanna.
Pina Olivetti runs Panificio Cuti,
one of the most famous artisanal bakeries in the region.
Oh, my God, it is very heavy.
That's a heavy bread. Yeah!
Sour dough is a living, breathing bread that has been made
since the beginning of human civilisation, but is somehow
still notoriously tricky to get right.
Oh, my gosh, it's so hot.
Its slow, natural fermentation means this bread stays fresh much longer
than ordinary bread.
No trivial matter in a region where food wasn't always plentiful.
Knowing we've come to Marzi in search of things past,
Pina's prepared us a little treat
that would have been on every family table 100 years ago, a filled bread
bowl called morzello, which is typically stuffed with meat
and seasonal vegetables like local favourite, cime di rapa,
or broccoli rabe.
The bitterness of that...
This ingeniously portable dish meant that farmers, hunters
and even stonemasons like my grandfather
could carry a not so little slice of home anywhere they went.
That's beautiful.
Oh, my gosh, look at the size of it.
No, you're first!
Delicious. Delicious. So good.
It's all sunk in.
That's good for you. That's great. Delicious.
As we head out of Marzi, I think of my grandfather Stanislaw leaving
Calabria and of that special bond that Italian immigrants have to food
that reminds them of home.
Perhaps that's why bread is never missing on our table.
While my parents are relaxing by the pool, or the bar,
I'm heading out to a place I've always wanted to visit.
Built atop a 150-foot cliff, overlooking the warm waters
of the Tyrrhenian Sea,
Tropea is Calabria's crown jewel.
Over the centuries, it's been prone to almost constant invasions
from neighbouring empires who all wanted to possess
this enchanting town.
But I'm here to wrap my head around something
of a botanical mystery.
Tropea is renowned all across Italy for its singular red onions.
They are so sweet they can be served in everything from pastas
to preserves, even in ice cream,
if you're so inclined.
I'm not.
To find out what makes these onions so special,
I'm meeting up with Tropean restaurateur, Michael Pugliese.
Despite their incredible popularity, the Tropea onion only grows
in a small stretch of coastline surrounding the city.
Just a few miles further out,
and it loses that sweetness that makes it unique.
Wow.
Yeah, that's gorgeous.
First grown here over 3,000 years ago,
Tropea onions were an unexpected gift brought by foreign conquerors
from the Middle East.
Though today the Tropea Onion
is beginning to be produced commercially,
there are still a few farmers left like Francesco and Onofrio,
who harvest their onions by hand using only
traditional irrigation methods.
Despite having suffered invasions for over 3,000 years, Calabrians
are tenaciously hospitable.
So Michael is not allowing me to leave Tropea before eating
something at his restaurant,
Osteria della Cipolla Rossa, The Red Onion Inn.
The restaurant is run by Michael's wife, Romana, who is so obsessed
with farm to table dining that she refuses to own a fridge.
The Osteria's specialty is the unapologetically simple
red onion spaghetti.
But don't underestimate simplicity.
Oh, my gosh!
That's delicious.
There's nothing to this but onions, broth and pasta.
But the combination of these three simple ingredients
becomes something sublime.
Oniony, but it's not oniony.
I don't know how to describe it.
It's hard not to be enchanted by the beauty of Tropea
and its unique red onions, but to me the real magic of this place
is the warmth and hospitality of its people.
The Calabrians have always had to rely on the sea for sustenance
and surrounded by water on three sides,
the catch here is as unique as it is plentiful.
Look at that. Silver snake.
God, they're incredible. Yes. They look fake!
I've come to a Calabrian fish auction to get a sense of the catch.
But because I'm a fish out of water, respected restaurateur,
Gianni Giordano is showing me around.
Is it octopus? Octopus. Everything?
Everything right here.
Tuna, swordfish, sharks.
Oh, this is a biggest squid.
Calamari.
He screams all the time.
You've got to fight with everybody because nobody got to take the fish.
No sea creature is more respected or prized in Calabria
than the swordfish.
Catching one of these sabred sea monsters is not easy,
but it is lucrative.
A single fish can fetch up to $5,000.
Yesterday, 20? 20, really?
Today, only one. Every day it's different.
Every day is different, yeah. You want to buy it?
I don't have room in my hotel!
Gionni's promised some fresh swordfish awaits me at his place.
But before getting lunch, we stop off to have a look
at his hometown, Scilla.
This town dates back to a time when Calabria was at the heart
of Magna Graecia,
Greece's empire in Italy.
Wow!
That's Sicily? Yes, it's Sicily.
The other side of this is Scilla.
Ancient Greek legends like the Odyssey,
told of the perilous passage in this narrow strait where sailors
were forced to choose between a vicious sea monster called Scilla
and a deadly whirlpool.
Is this true or...
No, it's true. It's true.
If they catch swordfish.
Remarkably, a traditional form of sword fishing passed down
from the ancient Greeks is still practised here in the waters
around Scilla to this day.
We're heading to the family's restaurant, the Prince of Scilla,
and I'm in for the royal treatment.
This one. Nice fish.
This swordfish was caught so recently you can eat it
straight off the bone.
Caught this fresh and sliced this fine,
it's like prosciutto and smoked salmon
had a lovechild.
Oh, so good.
Next, Gionni wants to cook me something more traditional,
scialatielli alla gurta, long, thin strands of pasta in a swordfish
ragu, of sorts.
He starts things off with a sofrito of garlic and sweet Tropea onion.
Yeah.
I'd like to have a shirt made out of this.
Thank you for coming. Thank you for having me.
Is it good?
Yeah.
Yep.
You should open a restaurant!
That's really good.
And see the swordfish boats?
And they're up in the crow's nest up there.
It's really beautiful.
It's curious to think of Calabrians still heading out
into these perilous waters to battle against ancient sea monsters.
But in this land of myth and legend, the sea is a mirror to the soul.
Look at those mountains.
I'm leaving Calabria's coast behind and heading deep
into the back country of the Aspro Monte mountains.
Rugged and shrouded in folklore, few tend to venture
through its impenetrable forests.
But I'm heading to meet a chef who's opened a restaurant in this most
remote corner of Calabria.
This river that flows in our property is called the Calabretto
and comes directly from our big mountain, the Aspro Monte.
All the southern part of Calabria
is just surrounded by Aspro Monte.
Nino Rossi has been living and working out here since 2016,
making food that celebrates the unique biodiversity
of this mountain.
And this land's been in your family for many generations?
I think we are sixth generation.
Did you grow up here?
I grew up in Rome, but I never stopped being a Calabrian child.
Growing up in a well-to-do family 1,000 thousand miles away from here,
Nino's keen interest in traditional Calabrian cooking came as a bit
of a surprise to his friends and family.
You didn't train as a chef?
I am a self-taught chef.
But at the same time, in the past, I had the opportunity to learn
from an ancient housekeeper called Maria.
And that's the way I got all the cuisine from the people.
Then I put all the things together and I started just experimenting.
Once I would like to learn how to make pastry.
I start only make pastries.
So if you invite myself to a dinner, I would just show up
with one of my cakes and say, "Oh, this is for you."
You became obsessive? Yeah.
Obsessive, yes.
Over the last few years, Nino's obsession has driven him to turn
this remote area into his culinary playground.
So this is where you do your foraging? Yeah.
I used to walk along the river
and then go also higher into the mountain.
But here you can find a lot of special things.
This is the water mint.
It's wild and has a strong, citrus taste.
An orange taste.
Yeah. You know that once, I poisoned myself.
So this is safe? No, this is safe.
I'm going to make it through?
What did you poison yourself with?
What was it? With the crocus?
And I thought it was white garlic.
And it was really... Yes, that can be very bad for you.
Yeah, but I studied a lot. That's good.
And I pretty know everything about this place.
From the upper part,
we take the silver fir and I show you.
It's just a fir tree.
White fir.
Yeah, it's nice.
Really aromatic.
Yes, I love it.
So should we go cook? Yeah.
I'm going to cook for you. All right.
Nino's restaurant is a love letter to the Aspro Monte
and the unique and undiscovered ingredients that can be found only
here on the mountain.
Today, he's preparing me a dish
that has helped cement his Michelin star.
A dessert called Fire.
This is a meringue.
So it's just egg white and sugar?
And we put this vegetable carbon powder.
So this is just charcoal? Yep.
What did people think about it?
A lot of people think that putting charcoal in a meringue,
it was something a little bit crazy.
In 2021, over 60 wildfires ravaged Calabria, leaving a trail of death
and devastation in Nino's beloved mountains.
Foraging was completely different after the fire because you can see
a lot of mountainsides completely black.
But at the same time, walking around, you can see all this strong
nature and colours going through the ground. Right.
And just go up and show its greatness.
Then I came back home and say, OK, I have to tribute the mountain.
Nino's obsessive baking has paid off in this tribute to the mountain.
It looks like glass.
After three hours in the oven, the notoriously temperamental
meringue is perfectly light and crisp.
Here we have silver fir balls, it's a silver fir extract,
water and lemon.
We make a base like this, and then we bring the apple.
So the apples come from the mountains?
Yes, comes from Aspro Monte.
I put the white chocolate foam.
I put back the white fir.
We had to call this dessert New Life After The Fire.
Because what we are building now is a new life, giving the second
opportunity to the mountain.
And this is like the last minutes of a fire.
Yes, absolutely.
You have to taste it. I will, thank you.
Oh, wow!
That's like a million different flavours in there.
That's amazing.
Citric and balsamic. Yeah.
And I love it.
Oh, that's amazing.
I'm just, keeps like...
And with the apple and...
Yeah, yeah, absolutely.
That's just...
That's great.
Wow!
Thank you.
It's not fancy tricks nor strange ingredients
that make Nino's food extraordinary.
It's that he's managed to perfectly capture the alchemy and enduring
beauty of this place.
I've come to the northernmost point of Calabria's Aspro Monte,
to the mountain hamlet of Martone.
It's a town that's ailing from an issue that's rampant
throughout the region.
Blighted by social and economic hardship,
there are over 200 mountain towns in Calabria that are at risk
of being abandoned.
But not everyone is packing up their bags.
Annalisa Fiorenza is a farmer and local activist who is using
organic agriculture as a means to create opportunities
in her community.
But Annalisa has had to contend with some deep rooted issues
that come with the territory.
These mountains are a stronghold of the Ndrangheta,
the notorious Calabrian mafia.
Formed in the 1800s,
this brutal criminal syndicate took root in the most impoverished
and rural parts of the region.
Today, they're one of the most powerful criminal networks
in the world,
with an estimated $60 billion annual turnover.
The only way Annalisa has been able to survive is by joining forces
with a cooperative of local farmers called GOEL Bio,
which helped her rebuild after she was attacked.
Today, a few members are meeting up for their monthly lunch at a local
restaurant, La Colinecta.
And Annalisa and I are joining.
The restaurant is run by fellow farmer and chef, Pino Tremblay,
who is preparing us a feast of Calabrian dishes.
Pino decided to join the cooperative in 2019 as a means to promote
his incredible organic produce outside of his restaurant.
This is time honoured cooking, and by time honoured,
I mean, like, the Stone Age.
Cooking in clay perfectly seals in the flavours of the meat.
But there's a trade off.
It takes over four hours per dish. Oh!
Pino's down to Earth cooking would have been a sure-fire success
anywhere in Italy.
But running a thriving business in this part of Calabria
often comes at a price.
Whenever somebody like Pino is threatened or attacked,
the cooperative gather around the victim to protect them,
even funding rebuilding efforts.
Oh, my...
Oh, yeah, put it down.
It's a bold approach, but one that's working.
The cooperative hasn't suffered an attack in five years,
and that's something worth celebrating.
Wow!
This battle is by no means won.
But Pino and Annalisa's stories are a reminder that food
can be a powerful tool for social change.
It just falls apart.
It's delicious.
And there's reason to be hopeful because, as Pino says,
Calabria is made up of good people.
To all of you.
I remember this very distinctly,
but I don't remember it being as verdant as this.
Obviously, it was 48 years ago, so the trees were smaller.
But you must have come with neighbourhood charm.
My time in Calabria is coming to a close, so my parents
are joining me for one last trip.
We've come to visit my maternal grandparents' home, Cittanova.
And I never saw this, all the times we've been here.
No, I don't remember this.
But time's up.
My grandfather, Vincenzo, was a battlefield medic
in World War I who, emigrated to Westchester, New York,
where he met and married a girl from his hometown,
my grandmother, Conchita.
That's an awful lot of people from a small city.
Italia Caduti In Cverra.
Those who fell in the war.
This is our family, Tropeano.
Tropeano, Tropeano.
So happy we saw this, never even known it was here.
But there's another reason why we've come to Cittanova.
The last time we were here was on our first family trip
to Calabria in 1973.
We stayed then with my grandfather's family and made a promise to return.
Today, we're keeping that promise and finally getting to have
an intimate family reunion, or as intimate as you can get
with a family of this size.
I know, I know, it's a lot of people.
Let's go!
In typical Calabrian fashion, my relatives have been up day and night
for half a week, preparing a feast of some of our favourite dishes
like this, stockfish, Cittanova style.
This is a Tropeano family dish
that is very similar to the Baccala and tomato sauce
that I grew up with.
My mother would make this with baccala.
Wow!
It's so good!
But no family feast, at least in our household, is complete
until you have these, zeppole.
These delicious, deep-fried beignets-like things,
often smothered in confectionary sugar, are a staple
at Italian-American festivities.
But here in Calabria, zeppole are made savoury instead of sweet.
What do you think, Stan? They're good. They're good.
It's a meal. Are they as good as mine?
I'm not answering that question.
Delicious!
But another dish, a simple, nameless preparation of roasted goat,
reminds me of that trip here almost 50 years ago.
I don't know.
It had a great influence on me, just driving up, getting it, putting it
into the back of the car, into the trunk of the car.
It was dead, but it was so good.
It was probably prepared like that.
Right? Beautiful.
For our family, there has always been a strange and magical bond
with food that drives so much of what we do.
I believe that the food we enjoy together strengthens the bonds
we will share forever.
I'll take some potatoes.
I love that.
The region my family left behind all those years ago
is still as troubled as it is beautiful.
Oh, my God.
But the true magic of this land is how it inspires people here
to do things that are equally as beautiful and how everywhere you go,
you will be treated like family.