Three kitchens, three Nonnas, one Christmas in Basilicata

NONNA WISDOM

Three kitchens, three Nonnas, one Christmas in Basilicata

By Gianina Rose

December 22, 2025

Our special Christmas episode in Basilicata is marked by the most natural sense of time that exists: the rhythm of the day.
A breakfast that smells of the oven, a lunch that tastes like home and memories, a slow dinner by the fire. Three moments, three grandmothers, three different ways of telling the same feeling: home.

A woman with long curly hair smiles while standing on a city street decorated with festive garlands. She wears a brown coat and patterned sweater. The background is slightly blurred, highlighting the streets holiday atmosphere.

Two men stand outside a small fruit shop called Ortofrutta da Peppino with a green and white striped awning. There are plants in front, and a balcony with a painting above the shop.

Breakfast, Nonna Maria and the oven that wakes up the village

📍Chiaromonte

The day begins very early, at six thirty in the morning, in Chiaromonte, a tiny village of just under one thousand inhabitants. Here everything is essential: a church, a bar, a grocery store, a fruit and vegetable shop. And a bakery.
Nonna Maria’s.
For over fifty years, Nonna Maria has opened her bakery while the village is still asleep. Today she runs it together with her daughter: two generations meeting every morning, in the same space, repeating the same gestures. Entering a bakery at dawn feels like stepping into the heart of a village. Bakers are the first to wake up, the ones who know everyone, who sense changes, who accompany the community from night into day.

That morning we watched the preparation of Christmas zeppole, ring shaped fritters made with leavened dough, fried and golden, symbols of the holidays. Around them, already prepared or in the making, were other traditional sweets: “Cicerata”, small fried dough balls dipped in honey, chestnut “calzoncini”, almond brittle, taralli.
I watched in silence, almost afraid of disturbing that balance made of habit and love. It was a breakfast without a set table, yet full of warmth.

An elderly woman wearing glasses and a headscarf kneads a large piece of dough on a floured countertop, while another person in a white apron stands behind her, preparing to bake.

Two people in a kitchen prepare doughnuts. One shapes dough while the other, wearing blue gloves, uses a skimmer over hot oil. Text on image reads: And then at 7:30 you go out to deliver to the shops.

A person wearing a blue glove fries dough rings in a pan, while a pile of cooked golden doughnuts rests on a tray beside them.

Two people shape pretzel dough by hand on a dark countertop. Rows of unbaked pretzels rest on a white cloth on a wooden table, ready for baking. The image focuses on the hands and dough, not showing faces.

Lunch, Nonna Antonietta, love and the excuse of salt

📍Calvera

A light breeze that welcomes you and makes you feel immediately at home is the essence of Calvera, the place where pure air is breathed. This is the meaning of the ancient Greek name Kαλαυρας, a name that holds all the charm of this small Lucanian village, suspended between silence, memory and gestures passed down through time.

Here I met Nonna Antonietta, ninety one years old, autonomous, elegant, energetic, witty. One of those women who make you forget their age, because their vitality is stronger than any number.

Together we prepared “Cannariculi”, a simple, ancient recipe made of dough and memory. While we cooked, Antonietta told stories. And in every story, they were always there: her husband, her children, her grandchildren.
One of the most beautiful anecdotes is about her husband. As a young girl she lived in the countryside and, to see him, she invented an excuse with her mother: the salt had run out. That way she could go into the village. He passed by with a donkey, she with a horse, and they walked part of the road together. At that time there were no cars, only time and desire.

An older woman wearing glasses, a headscarf, and a red sweater stands in a kitchen, holding a cooking utensil by a stove. Colorful oven mitts and a towel hang on the tiled wall behind her.

An elderly woman wearing glasses, a headscarf, and a pink sweater looks down and focuses on her task. A sunflower painting hangs on the wall behind her in a brightly lit room.

After cooking, she insisted that I stay for lunch. In just a few minutes she brought everything to the table: rascatielli with tomato sauce, sausage, peperoni cruschi, crunchy and fragrant, and even a chicken. It felt like Christmas Eve, even though it was only December seventh.

By the fireplace we looked at photos of her family. Her grandchildren gave her a tablet and she took a course to learn how to use it, to stay close to them even from a distance. Her secret to reaching one hundred years old? To mind your own business and be happy. Said like that, it sounds simple. Said by her, it becomes a life lesson.

A young woman in a red shirt serves pasta from a bowl to an elderly woman wearing glasses and a pink sweater, who is sitting at a table set with food in a cozy dining room.

A decorated Christmas tree with white and gold ornaments stands outdoors in front of an old stone building with stairs and small windows.

People walk through a town square decorated with Christmas garlands and red ornaments hanging overhead. A historic stone building with a clock is visible in the background. Trees line the square.

Cannariculi of Nonna Antonietta - Lucanian tradition

An ancient dish of Lucanian tradition, simple and authentic, still prepared today just like in the past. Nonna Antonietta’s “Cannariculi” are made with a few ingredients and confident hands, passed down from generation to generation.

Secret recipe of Nonna Antonietta

1 cup olive oil
1 tablespoon salt
12 large eggs
8 cups all purpose flour

Method
Arrange the flour in a mound on the work surface. Pour the oil, salt and eggs into the center. Start mixing with a fork, gradually incorporating the flour, then continue by hand until you obtain a soft, smooth and elastic dough.

Work the dough for a few minutes, then cover it with a cloth and let it rest at room temperature for about thirty minutes.

After resting, divide the dough into several parts and form logs about the thickness of a finger. Cut them into small pieces.
Each piece is then shaped on the scanaturo, the traditional wicker board, using two fingers to create the typical ridges.

Heat plenty of oil in a deep pot and fry the “Cannariculi” a few at a time until golden and fragrant. Drain on paper towels and serve warm.

Two people work together shaping dough on a wooden board; there are small dough pieces scattered around and long rolls of dough being cut.

Two people shaping gnocchi dough on a wooden board. Several small dough pieces and rolled gnocchi are visible, with dough balls on the side. Hands are working with a ridged tool and a dough cutter.

A person in a red sweater holds a large teal bowl filled with many small, round, golden-brown fried snacks in a kitchen with a tiled wall in the background.

Dinner, Nonna Olimpia, the silence that teaches

📍Chiaromonte

The day ended once again in Chiaromonte, in the evening, with Nonna Olimpia. We met in a cellar carved into the stone, a cave used to store wine thanks to its perfect microclimate. Outside, a fire is burning. Inside, the good silence of authentic things.

With Nonna Olimpia we prepared rascatielli, a typical Lucanian fresh pasta dressed with tomato sauce. She is a reserved, shy woman of few words. One of those grandmothers who often believe they do not have stories interesting enough to tell.
And yet, in her silence, she taught me a recipe she has been making since she was ten years old, learned from her mother. You add this, then this. Nothing else. Her hands spoke for her.

Two women stand together indoors; one smiles warmly while facing the other. Between them is an open paper bag labeled di grano tenero Tipo 00. The background features a textured, light-colored wall.

Raschiatelli lucani of Nonna Olimpia

The name “Raschiatelli” comes from the gesture with which they are made: small pieces of dough are quickly scraped with the fingers on the work surface, creating a hollow, irregular shape, perfect for holding the sauce.

Ingredients

1⅔ cups semolina flour
½ cup warm water

Equipment
- Wicker board “Scanaturo”

Two women stand side by side at a small table, working on something together in a dimly lit rustic room with exposed branches and string lights on the wall behind them. Their faces are not visible.

Three people smile in a warmly lit kitchen as one man lifts the lid off a large pot. The woman in front wears glasses and an apron, and the subtitle reads, It smell very good!.

Three people sit around a table sharing a meal and clinking glasses in front of a fireplace, with food and drinks spread out and warm light creating a cozy atmosphere.

Preparation
Place the semolina in a mound on the scanaturo. Add the warm water little by little and start mixing until you obtain a smooth and homogeneous dough. Divide the dough into several parts and work each piece on a lightly floured surface. Using the palms of your hands, stretch the dough toward one end until you obtain cylinders about one centimeter thick. Cut them into pieces about three centimeters long.

Work each piece with two or three fingers, hollowing it gently on the floured scanaturo until you obtain the typical hollow shape of “Raschiatelli”. Arrange the “Raschiatelli” on a floured tray and let them dry slightly. Eating that pasta, cooked over the fire, in that place, felt like closing a circle. I strongly felt the spirit of passing things down, of trust, of openness. An entire village opening its doors, not to show off, but to share.

Each of these grandmothers, with their own character, left something with me: Antonietta’s energy, Olimpia’s silence, Maria’s daily dedication. If there is one thing this Christmas in Basilicata reminded me of, it is that Christmas is not a date, but a gesture, sharing, simplicity, joy, memory.

It is waking up early to make zeppole, inventing an excuse to see the one you love, teaching a recipe in silence. It is family, memory, belonging. And it is all contained there: on an ordinary day, made special by grandmothers.