Abruzzo featured on AmexEssentials Weekend Guide

When American Express Essentials magazine approached me to write about a lesser known place in Italy, capturing the spirit of the region with tips that would appeal to a wide range of interests, I happily suggested featuring Abruzzo, a place I hold very dear in my heart.

I've mentioned Abruzzo in many posts on this blog. 

I shared a photo essay on my first (of many) weekend escape to Abruzzo; 

I shared an account of the chilling night of the earthquake; 

I added a 2009 diary from set entry; 

I listed all the cheese I ate while filming my TV show in Abruzzo; 

I shared a recipe for a seafood dish called scapece di Vasto; 

I have gone on and on, waxing poetic and how to make arrosticini; 

I shared my discovery of vino cotto, cooked wine must.

Abruzzo is where I discovered that size does not matter. Where I celebrate all my birthdays. The place where my son and I unplug and spend long moments hypnotized by the crackling fireplace, enjoying the silence and restoring importance to the little things. Abruzzo is the place where I have met some of my dearest friends. 

It's a special place, and I was happy to "give back" and show gratitude for all that it has given me, by mentioning some of my favorite things about it in a widely read magazine.

The link to the article is here: Weekend Getaway Guide: Abruzzo, Italy

I hope you enjoy reading it.

Book review "Breaking Bread in L'Aquila"

"When a project is conceived out of passion, its roots show."
This is the case with the new Italian trattoria-style cookbook, Breaking Bread in L'Aquila



A collection of recipes? Hardly just that.

Maria Filice is an ardent fan of the city and traveled many times to L'Aquila, the hometown of her late husband, Paul Piccone. On their numerous travels there, Paul introduced Maria to San Biagio, a small and charming homestyle restaurant, owned by two brothers–Andrea and Luciano Carlofelice–experts in making customers happy with their warm smiles and their fresh, local, and incredibly tasty dishes.

Breaking Bread in L'Aquila is inspired in part by those memorable meals, but even more so by a deep love for the joviality and warmth of shared hospitality. But above all, the book is inspired by the enduring love for Paul, the man who transformed Maria's life. Breaking Bread in L'Aquila is, essentially, a delicious love letter.

Maria was prompted to write her book when she visited L'Aquila a few months after her husband Paul passed away. As the book shaped itself, her visits intensified and in the aftermath of the April 2009 earthquake, Maria reports:

"When I was leaving L'Aquila on my short visit in September 2009, in the lobby sitting next to me was an older woman, relocated there from her crumbled home in the city. We made eye contact. I smiled, and she asked me what I was doing in L'Aquila. I told her that I was finishing my book and that I had wished to see L'Aquila once more before I could put closure on my book's introduction. She looked at me and gripping my hand, said, "Don't forget about us." I was moved. This deepened my resolve to complete the book, and release it on April 6th 2010–the anniversary of the earthquake–as a reminder to readers of the Abruzzo region's suffering. I promised the elderly lady that I would help by donating the net profits of my book to L'Aquila."

Breaking Bread in L'Aquila, whose recipes are inspired by those sampled over the years at trattoria San Biagio, includes Maria's favorite appetizers, main courses, side dishes, desserts and regional wines.

Bold, colorful, and easy to make, Breaking Bread in L'Aquila's Abruzzo-inspired dishes are as gorgeous to look at as they are to savor. The 49+ recipes, which are organized according to the days of the week, are made with ingredients available in anyone's local market.

In her practical and entertaining cookbook, Maria guides readers on a personal journey, complete with charming storytelling and tasty tips, to one of the most beautiful areas of Italy's countryside.

The net proceeds of this book will be donated to the earthquake restoration efforts of L'Aquila.

About the author: Maria Filice, a first-time author, food stylist and food blogger, is a first-generation Canadian-American Italian. Born and raised by immigrant parents from Calabria, Maria grew up following her family's Old World, old-school values. She learned her cooking skills from the best: her mother, grandmother, and aunts, whom she carefully studied from the time she could barely walk.

Join us in celebrating Abruzzo's fine food, wine and music at the "Breaking Bread in L'Aquila" Italy book launch with author Maria Filice

Saturday, May 15th 2010 at 5 p.m.
Sextantio albergo diffuso
Via Principe Umberto – 67020 Santo Stefano di Sessanio (AQ) Italy

Contacts for further accommodation info:
Tel. +39 0862 899 112

3:32 a.m.

It was the middle of the night. It felt like someone was shaking me awake.

My 3 year-old son had crawled in my bed earlier and for a moment I thought it was him. But no, he was asleep. All this did not happen in a split second. My reactions were slow. My senses and mind were blurry from deep sleep and it took me a moment to realize we were in the middle of a very strong earthquake. This went on for several long seconds. I held my child's hand as he snored blissfully, maybe just to reassure him that it was all OK. Although something made me understand that it was not.

Mainly the noise.

The noise of the earthquake is horrible. Just writing about it sends a chill down my spine. It's like a giant and grotesque earth-belch. An insult coming from a deep and dark place beneath.

I looked over at the clock and tried a mnemonic trick to remind myself of the hour. "I'll have to check the news tomorrow, 3:32 a.m.

The tremor ended, and I just lay there, frozen in silence, in the dark, watching the outline of the paper lantern hanging above my bed swaying back and forth. The noise subsided, and in its place a concert of car alarms and dogs barking. I didn't hear people in our apartment building run down the stairs, voices or other doors opening, so I quietly waited, listening to my heartbeat slow down, hypnotized by the decreasing sway of the overhead light fixture.

My son and I live in a small flat on the second floor of a 7-storey apartment building, and the shock was very strong, even for Rome. Even for me. The strongest I have ever felt, compared to the million California daily mini-tremors and the devastating 1980 Irpinia one I experienced in the past. I have a terrible fear of earthquakes. Despite that, I slowly regained courage and forced myself to sleep. The following morning I learned that the epicenter was only 60 miles away.

On April 6th, 2009, the history of Abruzzo changed forever. At 3:32 a.m. a terrible earthquake devastated the region and the dignity of an entire population. The once gorgeous city of L'Aquila was razed to the ground and many surrounding districts suffered atrocious losses and irreparable damage, both material and moral.

The 6.3 Richter scale tremor lasted an endless 35 seconds and killed 308 people, wounding thousands. Seventy thousand people lost their homes and many had to be permanently relocated in tented camps. Some live in newly built homes, but for the most part many of L'Aquila residents have not been able to return to live in their city.

I worked in Abruzzo for 4 months in 2010, and by interacting with the population I learned of the destruction and horrible consequences brought by the earthquake long after the shakes ended.

In Abruzzo, the rubble and distorted metal frames that once were homes, restaurants, schools, offices––the debris of a past life––still crowds the big cities and the small towns to this day. As I walked among the ruins every day, helpless, I breathed in the solidarity and felt the population's proudness, but also was overwhelmed by the Abruzzesi's desperation and suffering. I learned that more than 50 survivors commited suicide, because their families and homes didn't exist anymore. I learned that until very recently, folks were still living out of containers and port-a-potties. Mostly, I learned that when you deprive a human being of his home, of his roots – you bare that person, defacing him.


At 3:32 a.m. tonight, a candle light vigil crowd will very silently march in the closed off "red zone" of L'Aquila. The bells will strike 308 tolls and the name of each one of the victims of the April 2009 earthquake will be called out in the night. A mournful celebration of a night that has tainted the history and territory of Abruzzo forever.

My prayers and heartfelt compassion goes out to them, both the victims and the survivors. The brave, frustrated, strong and noble Abruzzesi are not forgotten. Not forgotten.