Salina

Some places reveal themselves through their landscapes, others through the people who live there. Salina gave me both.

It is one of the greenest and most fertile islands of the Aeolian archipelago, a place where agriculture has shaped not only the landscape but also the rhythm of everyday life. Here, the land is never just a backdrop; it enters people’s homes, their kitchens and their conversations, influencing when they wake up, what they eat and, very often, the stories they choose to carry forward.

I wanted to discover Salina through what seemed to represent it best: its agriculture, its flavors and, above all, the people behind them. I was lucky enough to meet Giuseppe, a local who guides visitors through the island’s natural and food heritage. Traveling with someone who belongs to a place changes everything; if you approach a journey with curiosity, respect and a genuine desire to listen, a local can reveal an island no guidebook ever could. So, one morning, my journey began in a caper field overlooking the sea in Pollara.

The women behind Salina’s capers

It was still early when I met the women working among the caper plants. They had started around five in the morning, as they do during the harvest season, and would continue until the heat became too strong.

Before coming to Salina, I had eaten countless capers without ever wondering what lay behind that tiny ingredient. A caper is the flower bud of the plant, picked before it blooms. Each one must be harvested by hand, holding the branch carefully and making a small twisting movement to avoid damaging it. It is precise, repetitive and physically demanding work. The buds are then sorted by size, while those left to bloom can produce the elongated fruit known as the “cucuncio”. Today, even caper leaves are used in the kitchen. Almost nothing is wasted, and perhaps because so much effort goes into growing and harvesting these plants, every part is treated as something valuable.

What stayed with me most, however, was not the technique but the atmosphere among the women. Their work was demanding, yet there was laughter between the plants, conversation and a sense of companionship that made the morning feel lighter. One woman was not even there for work. She had first come to Salina on holiday years ago and had become so fascinated by the caper harvest that she now spends part of her vacation waking up early to join the group in the fields. She simply loves being there, and after spending a morning with them, I understood why.

In Pollara, I also visited Sapori Eoliani, where the island’s capers and other ingredients are transformed into preserves and products. Today, Maurizia continues a story deeply connected to her son Roberto Rossello, the founder of the company. What could have remained only a painful absence has become a way of carrying forward his ideas, his work and his vision. Without realizing it at the time, I would encounter one of Roberto’s ideas again later in my journey.

A granita that keeps two stories alive

In Rinella, three siblings, Paola, Peppe and Rosanna, carry on the story of Bar Papero, founded by their father. Among the flavors they have created is one that tells a story far greater than its ingredients: a granita made with ricotta and candied caper. The balance between sheep’s and cow’s milk ricotta was developed by their father, while the candied caper was an idea created by Roberto Rossello. Neither of them is here anymore, yet their children chose to bring those two ideas together. I found this deeply moving. Sometimes traditions survive because someone repeats exactly what was done before; other times, they endure because the next generation finds a new way to keep memory alive. That granita is one of those ways.

The island where gardens grow without irrigation

As I traveled across Salina, one thing continued to surprise me: the abundance of its gardens. Life on an island has always required adaptation. Water is a precious resource, and traditional agriculture here has learned to work with the land’s characteristics and with crops capable of adapting to dry conditions.

One day, while driving between Valdichiesa and Rinella, I noticed an extraordinarily lush vegetable garden overlooking the sea and decided to stop. That is how I met Domenico. His garden was full of vegetables growing without regular irrigation. When I asked him what his secret was, he simply replied, “Nothing, a little luck.” After meeting so many farmers, I began to think that people who work with the land often call dedication “luck.”

Domenico showed me his plants and explained how he avoids chemical pesticides, using simple methods learned through experience and working with the soil rather than against it. This was one of the strongest lessons Salina gave me: when we stop trying to force nature to give us more, it often gives us exactly what we need.

The man who moved to Salina for a tomato

Then I met Michele Oliva. Michele was not born in Salina; in a way, a tomato brought him here. While studying agriculture, he became fascinated by local tomato varieties, especially the “Pomodoro Seccagno”, a tomato adapted to dry cultivation. Its characteristics allow it to grow with very little water: it has a thick skin, little liquid inside and an intense flavor. Michele eventually moved to Salina to cultivate it and, as often happens in the best stories, after falling in love with a tomato, he also fell in love with a woman from the island. Today he grows his Seccagno in Malfa. When I asked him what he loved most about life there, his answer was simple: freedom. His days follow the needs of the plants rather than the noise of a city. There are no hours lost in traffic and no constant feeling of rushing from one commitment to another. There is work, certainly, and farming is demanding, but there is also the possibility of following a different rhythm, the rhythm of a tomato ripening in the sun.

A living museum called home

My last and perhaps most unexpected encounter was with the Costa family. Before meeting them, Giuseppe had described their home as a “living museum.” At first, I did not understand what he meant, but by the end of the day, I did. Rita, Bartolo and Giacomo are three siblings who live together in Lingua, in the house built by their family. Rita introduced the situation with perfect simplicity: “We are three single siblings living together.” Their home, however, is much more than that. Together, they cultivate capers, tend their vegetable garden and continue traditions connected to oil and wine. They also care for an old Aeolian house with its historic palmento, the traditional structure once used for winemaking.

I began the day with them among the caper plants, this time right beside their home. We picked the buds together before moving inside, where they showed me the different stages of salting and preserving them.
The three siblings could not be more different. Rita is the heart of the house: she cooks, tends the garden and has a natural ability to make people feel welcome, as if the door were always ready to open for someone.

Bartolo is quieter; at first he appears shy, but behind his silence there is a gentle and poetic soul. He writes poetry, plays in the village band and works the land with the sensitivity of someone who notices more than he says. Giacomo is more practical and outspoken, yet he is also the aesthete of the family, the one who picks flowers for the table, notices what is out of place and cares about beauty in the smallest details. To understand them, you need time: you have to sit with them, listen, ask questions without rushing and allow the day to unfold. That is what I did. They showed me their home, the palmento and their work, and then, although it had not been planned, they asked me to stay for lunch.

Perhaps that is the image of Salina I will remember most clearly: sitting at a table I had not expected to join, eating what was already in the house and listening to stories offered simply because someone had chosen to share them.

What Salina left with me

There was a common thread connecting everyone I met on the island. It was not simply passion, a word often used too easily, but care. Care in the way a caper is picked without breaking the branch, in the way a mother continues her son’s work, in a granita created to keep two people’s ideas alive, in a man observing what his tomatoes need and in three siblings choosing, every day, to preserve a house and the traditions within it. The people of Salina did not need to tell me how much they loved their island; I saw it in their gestures.

My journey ended with the Costa family, yet I know that Salina will return to me in small ways. Every time I eat a caper, I will think of the women who begin working while most of the island is still asleep; every time I see a vegetable garden in summer, I will remember Domenico; and whenever life feels unnecessarily rushed, I will think of Michele and his tomatoes. One of the greatest gifts of traveling for Nonna Wisdom is that places slowly stop being only destinations and become people.

If I return to Salina, I will not simply be returning to an island; I will have people to visit.

A few places I would return to:

If you visit Salina, come hungry and allow yourself enough time to move slowly.

At Bar Alfredo in Lingua, try the famous pane cunzato, a large slice of toasted bread topped with local ingredients, perfect for a long summer lunch; their granita is also worth tasting.

At Bar Paperò in Rinella, try the granita with ricotta and candied caper: the flavor is unusual, but knowing the story behind it makes the experience even more meaningful.

Stop at Immacolata’s small supermarket by the sea, which I like to call the supermarket with the most beautiful view in Italy: a tiny shop that seems to contain everything, with capers drying outside, tomatoes hanging nearby and the sea right in front of you.

For sunset, find a viewpoint around Malfa and simply stay there for a while.

Above all, consider discovering the island with someone local. Giuseppe helped me understand that the most interesting parts of Salina are not always the ones you can find on a map.

Renting a scooter is also the easiest way to explore the island with enough freedom to stop whenever something catches your attention.

Because in Salina, sometimes the best thing you can do is exactly that: see a garden by the side of the road, become curious and stop.