The family of Slow Food Presidia in Friuli-Venezia Giulia is expanding: the last two, in chronological order, to be presented are the Bianchera olivein the Trieste and Karst area, and the malona white-fleshed pumpkin long cultivated in the Natisone valleys.
Fireworks
“I define Bianchera oil as pyrotechnic, in the sense that it gives off a very significant spicy and bitter sensation in the mouth. A lit oil that warms the heart.” With these words Stelio Smotlak, Slow Food representative of the newly created Bianchera olive Presidium, introduces us to the discovery of this corner of Italy a stone’s throw from Slovenia and the cultivar originating from the San Dorligo della Valle and Muggia area. “It is a rustic and vigorous plant – explains Smotlak – perfectly adapted to the harsh climate and calcareous and marous-sandstone soils. An area lashed by the Bora wind, characterized by a strong temperature range and cold winters. The natural adaptation meant that the plant developed polyphenols to protect and support itself: substances which, for us who enjoy its fruits, make the oil extremely interesting”.
The Bianchera variety olive trees are characterized by long fruiting branches, with medium-sized, narrow, long and lanceolate leaves. “And the peduncle is really robust – continues Smotlak – so much so that harvesting, done by hand, requires a certain amount of strength”. Throughout the Friuli-Venezia Giulia region, the area dedicated to olive growing is around 300 hectares, of which approximately 45 in the province of Trieste. Reduced numbers, not only due to the small size of the territory, but also due to two particularly harsh years, 1929 and 1985, in which frosts damaged many plants. “We have small plots, which I like to define as real family gardens – concludes the Slow Food representative of the Presidium – because they are cared for and pampered just like they were vegetable gardens. I have friends who go to their olive grove every day and know every plant: something that, in 100-hectare farms, naturally couldn’t be done.”
In the kitchen, Bianchera pairs well with typical dishes of the local gastronomic tradition: from meat to fish, to mushroom-based dishes and soups. The only precaution is to use it sparingly on dishes with a particularly delicate flavour, to prevent the strength of the oil from overwhelming the taste.
Peasant stories
Fifty kilometers north of Trieste is a completely different world: the Natisone valleys, which fan out from Cividale del Friuli in a north-eastern direction, are a taste of the Alps. It is from here that the malon, a pumpkin white paste with a cylindrical-round shape and smooth skin, it can reach a length of about 40-50 centimeters and a diameter of 30-40. A food that, in these parts, has always been a resource for everyone, not just humans: “Historically, malon was grown mainly for animal feed” says Caterina Dugaro, representative of the producers of the Slow Food Presidium. “It was fed to pigs and cattle, or cut into pieces and left for the chickens and ducks to peck at.” But malon can also prove precious in the kitchen: “For human consumption, the fruit is used when the peel is still green and the pulp is tender”, she adds. Traditional recipes see malon used in a soup called briza or zupa malonova, in which the pulp is grated and left to macerate in batuda (i.e. buttermilk, freshly milked cow’s milk left to sour) with the addition of beans and, depending on the variants, potatoes and corn flour toasted in lard or butter. It can also be found grated and stewed in a pan with garlic, bay leaves and a fatty base, to accompany meat, or as an ingredient in stakanje, a pesto made with vegetables and potatoes.
A poor but versatile ingredient, malon, but with a long peasant history behind it. “It was once in common use: I remember well that, in my house, my grandmother and mother used it regularly” adds Gianfranco Topatigh, Slow Food representative of the Malon Presidium. “Back in the day there was nothing heroic about using malon in cooking. Then, the depopulation and impoverishment of the social fabric of this area, as happened in many other internal areas of our country, meant that cultivation was lost. The logic of starting a Slow Food Presidium is to restore dignity to something that was disappearing, but not as a pure and simple reminder of the good old days: it means recognizing its economic potential, albeit small, for example in the catering chain”.
A concrete potential, confirms Dugaro: “In the kitchen of our farmhouse, in a season we use almost twenty maloni. We are very happy with the birth of the Slow Food Presidium and with helping to stimulate the restaurant industry not to forget products that represent added value: that of bringing dishes to the table that cannot be enjoyed elsewhere. And, since we started talking about Presidio, we have already noticed more interest.”
