Befana in Italy

Tonight, while everyone is asleep, La Befana will be coming to our house and filling my son's stocking with little gifts and candy. He will find it tomorrow morning, like many other children in Italy. We will leave out a small glass of red wine and some soft breadcrumb for her to snack on (the Befana likes her vino, but her bad teeth can only tolerate softer foods). She is not scary–although her features are less than pretty–and kids love her. Unfortunately younger generations are starting to forget how important she really is.

The befana is not a witch, as she is often recently portrayed. She's an ugly, hunched-over old woman in a raggedy scarf that sometimes flies on a broomstick (or rides a donkey) and brings happiness to children. Before Santa dethroned her, overtaking the global commercialization of Christmas, in many parts of Italy it was only la Befana who brought gifts to children on the Twelfth Night, marking the end of the holiday season. December 25th was solemnly celebrated as the birth of Jesus, a big family reunion, and involved eating lots of good food–period. No gifts.

The name Befana is the corruption of the word epifania, Italian for 'Epiphany.' That's when, on January 6th, Christians commemorate the visitation of the Magi to the Baby Jesus.

The Befana is a pagan figure belonging to Roman folklore, but according to a more religious version, her story is linked to the Three Wise Men from the Orient.

On their way to Bethlehem to bring Baby Jesus their precious gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh, Balthazar, Melchior and Caspar got lost on the way (winter clouds momentarily shrouding the comet?).

They happened upon an old woman standing in her cozy doorway, and asked her for directions. Despite the Magi's insistence she follow them to visit the Child, the woman peremptorily refused to accompany them. Later, feeling guilty for her harsh dismissal, the old woman prepared a jute sack filled with sweets and gifts for the Babe and set out to catch up to the Three Kings, unsuccessfully.

She stopped at every home on the way, dispensing her delicious bounty to the children she'd meet, in the hope that one of them was the newborn Jesus.

From that day, every year on the night before January 6th, she is said to roam the world, giving gifts to children, in exchange for forgiveness.

La Befana proverbially loads stockings with method: a fresh tangerine at the toe, and then pieces of unwrapped bubble gum, assorted candies, gianduiotti, lollipops, chocolate coins for prosperity, a few symbolic small toys and trinkets–like stickers or crayons–and whatever she feels is right for the child in question.

Those who haven't been good find their stocking filled only with coal, but that rarely happens! Just to keep the tradition alive, every stocking must contain at least one chunk of crumbly black sugar, shaped like a lump of coal.


One larger gift is displayed near the stocking, unwrapped and ready to be played with.

I've spoken to the Befana, and she tells me this year my son will be getting a brand new bicycle with training wheels!


Buona Befana!

Another film set, another suitcase

It's been a busy month here at Aglio, Olio & Peperoncino.

I have published several essays and features on various online Travel/Food magazines (check my sidebar for the links) and I have been interviewed, awarded and selected to be part of many great blogrolls (again, see in my sidebar for more AO&P online). I have designed a badge, and I am honored that some blog friends have displayed it on their sites. I have joined foodie hubs and search engines, and my traffic and followers have greatly increased.

I have twittered 'til the wee hours and made wonderful acquaintances therein. I have wisely de-cluttered and placed classified ads for old furniture and baby gear (alas no yard sale tradition here!). I have given books, clothes and toys to charities, and through the Internet, I "bumped into" my first preschool teacher, who is still living in Rome. We met for a picnic with Mr.E and it was a very touching moment to see her after all these years. She had saved this picture of my preschool graduation. I'm the one in the white dress and black shoes, fourth from the left.

Tomorrow I leave for a new film. We shoot an American film in Abruzzo for 8 weeks or so. Should be fun. But it will be hard to part with my son. He has just recently started attending a new school, and new habits and friendships are being formed. He is very shy, incredibly affectionate and tender, and I will miss my morning cuddles and his sweet "quanto sei bella" (how beautiful you are) during playtime. Our intimate mother-son rituals will be carried out by his loyal nanny. 

She'll be reading him Goodnight Moon, cooking his meals and becoming a tennis-playing warrior, or a truck-driving firefighter if the game requires it. I on the other hand will be speaking to my son over the phone. I will be strong and I will leave with a lump in my throat but faking a smile as my son waves from the window. I'll be biting my fingernails at his every silence and sneeze. I will be the breadwinner, devoured by guilt.

My laptop travels with me and I will still post every other day. I will keep freelance writing, emailing, discussing and posting recipes and hosting the weekly Be My Guest event. I will be back home on weekends, and my plans to participate in the vendemmia, olive press and Positano parties are still very much happening. I will treasure returning to the hotel room after work every day to read your blogs and your stories. Mushrooms and truffles will be eaten. Hare and perhaps wild boar too.

I will be punctual at work every day, neat and quiet. I'll not slouch and I'll sit with my knees locked together, prim and proper in my patagonia fleece. I'll wear my woolly hat and mittens gracefully. I will perform my job duties with care, I will be up to the task. I will rub elbows with stars and I will participate in a new creative process. I will be professional, discreet and efficient. I will be all that and more.

But I feel this could be my swan song.

I need a stable job. One that I can rely on. One with human-friendly hours. I have fantasies of a 9-to-5 day. I crave perks and benefits. I need a regular income! It's wonderfully empowering to carry the world on my own shoulders and be free from obligations, but sometimes it gets really difficult to do it all by myself. There's no business like show business, but I'm exhausted.

Freelance writing, blogging and editing my book will be my refreshing part-time job during the upcoming full-time job engagement with the film. I can do it. It'll be hard, but fun, too. I always like a good challenge.

I have to go pack now. Destination: Sulmona, cute little town in Abruzzo known for its traditional production of confetti, sugared almonds––not paper party decorations.

Confetti are traditional Italian sugared almonds with a hard sugar coating. The result is a crunchy white oval-shaped candy that's usually given as a symbolic celebratory gift in sets of odd numbers, usually 5.

Confetti can also be made with a chocolate filling instead of almonds. They are handed out as a small token (in little ornate fabric bags or decorated boxes) to family and friends for special occasions, like weddings, baptisms, christenings, graduations, etc. Wedding confetti are typically white; to celebrate the birth of a newborn baby, confetti are usually gender-colored (pink or baby-blue) and for a graduation they are lucky red. Silver and gold anniversary confetti respectively represent 25 and 50 years of marriage.

On the other hand the English word "confetti" corresponds to the Italian coriandoli. The connection is an interesting language story: long ago, during Carnival people would throw confetti (candy) that held a small coriander seed inside each, as a sign of appreciation for the best costumes at masquerade balls. Later on, small pieces of paper substituted the candy and their Italian name refers to the original herbal ingredient, coriandolo, while the English-speaking world remained faithful to the original candy name calling them confetti. Did I confuse you sufficiently?

A presto!