It wasn’t the sun creeping in our windows that woke us up this beautiful, ferragosto morning. It was the braying of the donkeys in the field below our room.
The view from our Juliet balcony.
The happy sounds were the perfect welcome to Borgo Cerquelle! Wait, is that a rooster I hear? A goat? Borgo Cerquelle is an incredible agriturismo in the Sannio Hills.
Historically, ferragosto is celebrated by workers leaving work behind and heading to the country. Picnics, outings to the woods, trekking , dancing under the trees are a healthy way to forget about that job. Since I am too lazy to pack a picnic lunch and hike up the hill, Jack and I decided it was fitting for us to celebrate at Borgo Cerquelle! Where by the way, there are trails in the woods and lots of outdoor spaces.
A trip back in time.
It is impossible to come here and not gain a kilo or two. The food is exceptional. It is homemade fare, farm to table, and definitely prepared with love. Served family style, one becomes engaged with the other people at the table. At dinner last night we chatted with a couple from Benevento. Food, politics, what we all did in other lives and more food.
Today the place will be packed with people for lunch. Pranzo on ferragosto will be a luscious affair – and I didn’t have to make a thing. Afterwards, Jack and I may be forced to take a walk up to see the animals or we may sit in a chair in the shade, staring at the tower of Pontelandolfo down below 
Ah, to be 20, 21, 22 and dancing at an international folk festival. (Who am I kidding, at 40 I would have been delighted.)
When we first got to Piazza Roma at about 7:30 PM Thursday night, on the stage, which is prominently placed in the middle of the piazza, there was a mass going on. What made the mass a lesson in global relations was the participation by the dancers sporting an international plethora of costumes. These dancers from three or four continents could have been Christians, Muslims, Jews or anything. Being at the mass was a sincere and loving way to share a cultural experience in an Italian piazza.
After the mass we moved to one of Tãwa’s comfortable outdoor tables. You remember Tãwa – our favorite Japanese restaurant in the world – which happens to sit right on Piazza Roma. From my table I saw the energy and excitement radiating from the piazza as it slowly filled up with people. Our hometown folkloric company, Ri Ualanegli, produces an annual folk dance festival that is incredibly professional. Well organized, artfully staged, and unites dancers in the creation of something magical for the greater good. Hey, politicians out there – the arts unite people – what a concept.
The companies are composed of young people. No, that’s a lie. I noticed some people with gray hair and in Ri Ualanegli there are some men and women in their 40s. However, to a woman in her third act, they all seem young. Sigh. Imagine, being young, unattached and on a great arts based adventure. There were companies from Kenya, Mexico, Island of Comore (French), Serbia and of course Italy. Performers travel long distances, eat together, dance together, play music together and share ideas. It’s a fabulous experience that increases one’s understanding that people all over the world are essentially the same. We all dance with the same kind of body. We all play instruments that elders taught us to play. Forget G7, BRICS, NATO, UN – we ought to send our leaders out to international arts based festivals. Maybe the world’s leaders would start to understand how important it is to appreciate the culture, the language, the costumes, and food of other people.
As Jack said, “it’s our tiny little town and we are representing the world as it should be.” We watched this incredible parade of performers and Pontelandolfese children that culminated on the stage with the flags of all the countries. All are interspersed, holding hands with such a gentleness toward each other. Such a feeling of togetherness.
Holding up the littlest baby, the presenter, Gabrielle Pallidino, said and this baby in the complete traditional costume of our village represents how the heritage continues to live on. It’s so astounding to see these little children, the perfect reproductions of our history, wearing with pride the outfits of our universal past. Enzo and Althea waited for the parade!
What was really amazing was sitting here and seeing all the small children from different countries who came with their dance groups playing and dancing right in front of the stage. It didn’t matter who was performing. The wee ones were all dancing with a certain sameness. There’s a lot of leaping and twirling. There’s a lot of jumping. There’s a lot of running back-and-forth. Children from different cultures with different languages playing together and brought together by music. This is the lesson to be learned. Time to learn it.
Who could even imagine that a big television streaming network would shoot a Reality TV segment in our little village? Or that the series would not be about Italian cuisine but sushi. You read that right – sushi. Sitting there on Piazza Roma in Pontelandolfo, may be the best sushi restaurant we’ve ever eaten at. TAWĀ is owned by one of the most entrepreneurial young men I know, Giuseppe Sforza. When Giuseppe whispered, “the Discovery Channel – Food Network was starting a new reality show about sushi.” I was even more impressed. This go getter of a restaurateur, somehow got TAWĀ to be one of the first sushi restaurants the network visited. The new show – PAZZI DI SUSHI! Hmm, is that a riff on Food Network’s Pazzi di Pizza?
Screenshot from FoodNetwork.it
Giussepe asked us if Jack and I could come and be background for the shoot. Well, he didn’t exactly say “background” but I knew what he meant. We would be pretend customers in a restaurant that we absolutely adore. The concept of the show seemed clear. Pazzi di Sushi is a reality contest that will be held in every province in Italy. A province is like a New Jersey county – so that can be a lot of territory to cover. The production team picked the 3 restaurants from each province to compete. I don’t know how they found the three or if the guys who own them found out about the show and pitched them.
The host, Rosy Chin, who is a famous sushi restaurateur, with a production crew would visit the three sushi restaurants in one day. Accompanied by one “advisor” from each place, Rosy and her three advisor/judges taste the fare presented, talk about the food and then decide who is the best restaurant of that segment. The TAWĀ representative was the handsome sushi aficionado Antonio Del Ciampo. (When I saw the show, Antonio had more air time and sounded soooo much better than the other advisors. )
A night of filming would be fun. So, on dark and dreary Monday in October we headed to the Piazza. TAWĀ was the last restaurant the production team was visiting that day. Yup, Rosy and the crew started with early morning sushi – yum.
Looking like the happy sushi eaters we are, Jack and I arrived at TAWĀ at about 6:00 PM. That was the alleged time the shoot would start. There were four other well dressed folks there already. A mom, daughter, dad and pal. They were dress extras who dressed a hell of a lot better than Jack and I did. Both men were in suits. Jack was in a fleece sweatshirt. I wore a black Mexican style low neck off the shoulder dress with an enormous red necklace. No camera was going to ignore this red necklace. My Ecuadorian embroidered shawl complemented the look. I wonder if they saw my red shoes?
Giuseppe was incredibly gracious. He popped open a bottle and poured a Prosecco for all. It really was a cold and stormy October night and I was freaking freezing. I looked at our host with baby blues and got a Scotch to sip. We enjoyed chatting with the other extras and realized that suddenly it was 7:00 PM and no cast or crew in sight. The ever organized Giuseppe made calls to discover that they were behind and might be there at 8:00 PM. Now I’ve done enough television to know that they’re going to have a ton of high end equipment. It has to be set up, taken down, packed up and shoved in vans. That means 8:00 PM is a fantasy.
Each and every one of us our starving. We are waiting in this fabulous Japanese restaurant watching the chefs make this beautiful food for Rosy and the featured guests. The Scotch in my stomach was screaming for company. Yeah! At 10:00 PM the crew shows up and they’re like any crew I’ve ever worked with my entire life. Well not really, they are all so young I feel like Auntie Dinosaur. They quickly unload three vans. I start counting five cameras. Five cameras to put in this little restaurant. The lighting equipment kit fits in a pocket and morphs into these giant lights. They set up the sound board and monitors outside. Everything was set up by 11:00 PM. Giuseppe kept in touch with Antonio to see where they were. What a long day for the crew and Rosy Chin. What a long day for aged sushi gourmands.
THE REALITY OF REALITY TV – OOPs – am I allowed to talk about this? When they finally got to TAWĀ the production team had us sign a talent/photo release. The young producer who was in charge made it such a big deal.
“Where’s your ID?” She asked.
I barely had a purse, I was just coming to pose. First thing I found was my New Jersey drivers license. Not good enough. We need to be Italian. Luckily, I dug around and found my Italian ID. Then she decides we are American and she will fill out the form for us. WHAT? When she completed the form, I asked her for a copy. She looked at me like I had three heads and asked why. Because I didn’t even know the name of the production company. We knew it was a Discovery Channel. We knew it was a new show. We didn’t know who or what was producing. Of course, I snagged a photo. (Really look at the release – use on Discovery, Prime, Netflix, and more. Damn this is more than the Food Network – which is owned by Warner Brothers Discovery.) Hmm, unlike my unreal reality experience on Cash Cab, we didn’t sign an NDA. So I’m allowed to share all the inside action with you.
I think they started filming at midnight. Yes, midnight and we hadn’t eaten a bloody thing. Jack, poor Jack, kept asking me if we could just sneak back to the counter and order something.
Stop, I whispered. We are actors on a job. Look happy.
Happy, Jack whined, I even look famished. It is midnight! When he started to put his head down on the table, I sighed. Actors….
Suddenly, things started to happen. They started to dress the set. Water and wine was whisked to our tables. Six pieces of sushi are suddenly in front of us. YUMMMMM. I smack Jack with a chopstick – we have to wait until the camera is on. Look for a red light! Then my “I’ll never be a background actor again,” husband starts drinking his wine.
A red light! I see a red light! Rosy and the advisors are making their entrance.
CUT!
Take 2! Take 3! Take 4! Eight takes later their entrance and greeting by Giuseppe was spot on. Actually Giuseppe was spot on every take.
Next the personalities were graciously seated in the center of the room, well lit and WHAT! Giuseppe serves them a sashimi that was so huge, beautiful and amazing that if I didn’t know better I’d think a Hollywood food stylist created it. Rosy talks about the history of sashimi and our eyes glaze over as we watch Rosy and the advisors tstart eating this sashimi. Remember, they have been eating sushi since early this morning. Each personality put the fewest slices of fish on their little plates as possible. Smiles. A taste and suddenly – CUT! We watched the magnificent tray of fresh fish as it moved back to the crew. Sigh…
While they’re setting up the next shot, Rosy turned to me – wait – somehow she knows I’m an American. Did the giant red necklace give me away or my poking Jack with chopsticks? Rosy asks me in English – English like some one who went to Smith or Vassar – why are you here?
I look and gulp, the red light is on. My phony TV voice and face race to answer. (Jack told me I turned on my phony face and voice.) I do an amazing TAWĀ pitch – at least I thought it was amazing.
I’m here because the sushi at TAWĀ is the absolute best in the world. We’ve eaten sushi all over the world – in Los Angeles -where my niece is a casting director, in Paris, in New York, Philadelphia. Blah Blah Blah
Don’t hold your breath – they didn’t use it. Guess my phony face should stay in my purse.
The personalities were served more and more glorious platters of food. The Director yelled CUT! The food disappeared. We got home at 2:00 in the morning, raided the refrigerator and ate everything we could find. Even hungry and lusting for sushi, I must say it was an exciting adventure. I also must say – WE LOVE GIUSEPPE AND TAWÃ!
Want to see who won? Wondering how our hometown place did? If you have a VPN you can set to Italy, you can watch the show – Benevento segment – Pazzi di Sushi. Check out how they voted – chopsticks tossed in a glass. Listen to each “advisors” criticism of the others. Guess who then gets the final vote?
For those of you who have been wondering where I’ve been, we came to New Jersey for the holidays and health issues turned me into a drooling marshmallow for about three months. I am now on the mend, my brain is functioning and you will be hearing more tales in the future. Thank you for your patience.
Have you wondered where I’ve been? I’ve wondered too. But I’ve been thinking of you, the Sannio Hills and our sweet village, Pontelandolfo. My silence has been time for percolating and looked what popped out of the pot – a writer’s retreat. Read on. Grab your passport and join us.
June 1 to June 11, 2026.
Limited to 8 writers
Writers’ Refuge in the Sannio Hills takes its name from the rifugi, mountain huts that provided a haven for shepherds in Italy. Like those rifugi, the Writers’ Refugeoffers a sanctuary where writers of all genres can shepherd in your latest creative writing project. Whether you are a first-time writer or have had many publications, the 10 days you’ll spend amidst the gorgeous Sannio Hills in the lovely Italian village of Pontelandolfo will surely inspire and nurture your creative output. Here, your time is your own. Write all day everyday if you like, read all those books you’ve wanted to read, spend time sharing your work with the other writers, or wander through town enjoying the new view. While all these nurtures your work, we also offer one-on-one creativity coaching sessions, daily writing prompts, nightly salons, and other creativity boosting activities brought to you by award-winning poet and small press editor Maria Williams
Together with playwright and event facilitator, Midge Guerrera, the time together is sure to be fun and inspirational
$2200All Inclusive Fee Includes:
Participants will share large, double rooms with ensuite bathrooms in La Locanda della Presuntuosa, a unique villa built into a mountain on acres of land. The villa includes a swimming pool, tennis court, washing machine, and park-like grounds that are minutes from Pontelandolfo village life. (A price for a single room at a local apartment will be available upon request.)
Three meals a day cooked by an Italian chef using local ingredients. Vegetarians and those with allergies can be accommodated
Roundtrip Transportation from the Benevento Train Station
Welcoming “Bar Crawl”–drinks and local snacks included–where you can discover off-site places to write while absorbing local Italian culture.
Daily shuttles will bring you (and your computer) to the village center – Piazza Roma.
All workshops, one-on-one sessions, and salons
A morning of writing in neighboring Morcone’s Storico Bar and lunch at Biancamela
Application fee is $150 to secure your spot. Deadline: April 5, 2026
As part of your registration please send no more than 10 pages of your work plus a paragraph or two describing your goals for the 10 days.
Your hosts Maria Williams, is the author of White Doe, winner of the Verse Daily Prize (2023), and the chapbook A Love Letter To Say There Is No Love (FutureCycle Press, 2011). She is a Pushcart Prize nominee and has been awarded residencies and fellowships from Jentel, PEN America, the Vermont Studio Center, A Room of Ones Own, and the Summer Literary Seminars, among others. Her poems have been published in numerous journals, including Bellevue Literary Review, Pank,Quarterly West, Allium, and Bateau. Maria has provided consultation to writers of all genres for over ten years. Visit her website.
So, my creative friends, what do you think? Are you staring at your keyboard and thinking – hmmm, it is portable. Pack that bag and join us in Pontelandolfo.
Monday was a normal day in Pontelandolfo. The school lobby was open so we could vote in the Regional Election. With “what party” and “who” I was to vote for jotted on a note in my pocket, I raced around the rain drops. It was teeming and in 15 minutes the polls would close.
(For those of you who wondered why I had the “what” and “who” jotted on a note, there were six candidates representing six parties. All wanted to be Regional President. I can barely remember my own long Italian name. You had to know the name of the candidate so you could print it nicely on the paper ballot.)
Cursing the rain and hobbling up slick steps without a guardrail leading into the school, I looked up and raised a fist at my dad.
JFG started us getting out the vote before we could drive.
He had ingrained in me the absolute need to vote in any and all elections. Deluge be dammed. I stopped in the foyer, shook the water out of my hat and opened my tessera votare to see where I had to go. District 3.
District 3. How is it possible that the district I lived in so many years ago. The district filled with ardent supporters that made sure my dad would be successful in Flagtown, Hillsborough and the County was the same district I’d vote in here?
Ciao Midgeee! Salve Midgeee! And as it had happened years ago in a different District 3, the home town chattering began.
I voted and dashed out.
Barely making it to the car, I was convulsing with sobs. Tears ran down my face. Jack, who didn’t go inside to vote kept touching me and asking what was wrong.
Angie Dorsa. Mc Cray, Mc Hugh, Doyle, Johnny G – my dad. My bigger than life dad who was an iconic election figure. That’s what was wrong. After hearing the first poll worker bellow “Midgeee,” all those old Democrats came to life for me. I could see them, feel them, hear them in the District 3 of yore.
Click and feel the moment. Midge “raw”coming to you from her Fiat.
Wild Boar – Cinghiale. They dig up crops, scare the bejeeezus out of tourists, and imagine this – one year ago the Italian army was sent in and told to shoot to kill. The ugly critters, found even in the streets of Rome, were or may have been carrying African Swine Fever which threatened the pazzilion dollar prosciutto industry. Some of the wild bad boys may have been getting a little too close to the gentile domestic sow. Sigh – isn’t that always the way.
Here in Pontelandolfo, we may not like their big ugly tusks charging at us but we do love the rich sauce you can make with the meat. The amazing steak and well, the general incredible taste that only free ranging, wild things can give us. 🎶 “Wild thing, you make my taste buds sing!” 🎶
Growing up in rural agrarian Somerset County, New Jersey, venison, wild turkey, peasant and other wild critters often graced the table. My dad told me that in the dark days of the depression, ground hog – which tastes remarkably like pig when made in tomato sauce – was often part of Sunday pasta day. My nonna told me the horror stories of picking buckshot out of teeny tiny sparrows or maybe they were black birds. When a flock flew over my nonno would hauled out the shotgun and BAM. Wee birds for dinner. I remember cleaning buckshot out of peasants and that wasn’t fun. But a family has to do what a family has to do.
Here in Pontelandolfo, we still have subsistence farmers who grow and process vegetables, raise animals for milk and meat and, gulp, remind me of my grandmother. They are kind, hardworking and loving people. We’ve integrated into the village’s rural lifestyle. Nope, I haven’t planted a thing except words on a page and a good will smile. Since, everyone thinks that because I spend my time at a desk, poor Jack will die of starvation, we are often recipients of parts of harvests and hunting. NOW YOU SEE WHERE THIS IS GOING…
Thanks to a wonderful hunter, a giant chunk of cinghiale found its way to my freezer. Jack and our summer guests would not starve. Unless I was hosting a party for our contrada (neighborhood), there was too much to use for one meal. I put on my 4-H Cooking Club farm girl brain and thought – I know me thinking seems like an anomaly – but Shazam an idea. Yes! I would divide the meat and create three freezable dishes. Stew, pasta sauce and meatballs – all freeze well and will make Jack a happy cena.
First step, get out a big knife and divide the hunk. Based on no knowledge of boar anatomy, I think it was a thigh or butt. I grabbed one of my nonna’s giant stainless steel bowls – yes, I brought a few to Italy – tossed in leftover red wine, wine vinegar, apple cider vinegar and herbs. Why, you are wondering did I use a mix of vinegar. Simple, there was a little bit left in a few bottles. I also added diced garlic, fresh rosemary on the stem, thyme, pepper and salt. Plopped in the meat, covered it and left it in the refrigerator for two days. I think twice I remembered to flip it around.
Truth be told, I then had to succumb to google. Did I wash the meat after the marinade? I did. Did I mention, I throughly washed the meat before I dropped in the melange of acids. I’m glad I washed it. An important lesson was learned. Leaving boar in vinegar for 48 hours means it is tender and tastes like a hint of vinegar. Next time it will just be red wine.
I looked at the three big pieces of meat which were now no longer red. WHAT DID I DO? I was planning on taking one third to our friendly butcher and asking him to grind it. When I got there the first words were – in very marginal Italian – did my marinade wreck the meat?! He laughed. The meat absorbs the acids and changes color. I promised him some meatballs. He smiled at that too.
Cinghiale Balls!
There is something meditative about squishing a mixture of meat, grated cheeses, breadcrumbs, raisins, oregano, salt, pepper, basil and eggs through your sanitized hands. Because the meat wasn’t very fatty, I used more cheese and eggs than one might usually. Actually, I scooped in extra bread crumbs too. I ended up rolling about 30 balls this size.
Meanwhile on the stove, my giant stainless steel pot was hosting slow cooking freshly diced tomatoes, onions, garlic and green/red pepper. I wanted the fresh stuff to break down before I added jars of passata ( homemade tomato puree graciously left on my veranda.) In went the passata plus a couple of store bought cans of diced tomatoes. I was trying to fill the giant pot and freeze enough sauce for decades.
To make the sauce really rich, I have learned to add a mirepoix. Carrots, celery and onion were diced to almost a paste in my blender. That went into the pot then I stirred and waited. When it started to bubble, I very carefully placed each of those boar balls in the pot. Lid went on and I let the ragù slow cook for a few hours. The meat balls gave it not a gamey taste but a savory taste that one wanted to go on forever.
I could eat this sauce everyday!
I made enough sauce and meat balls for three of us to have a substantial meal. Nestled in my freezer are now three containers of sauce and balls for the future. Yummy. I thank the hunter who share with poor starving Jack.
We will talk about the stew another day. I am hungry and need to forage for local cheese,wine and bread.
Sigh, I can see the steam floating up from my perfect cappuccino at Cafe Style. My wallet is thrilled that we can go to Bar Elimar for a scrumptious homemade lunch and spend a scant €15 for two people. Jack’s nose is yearning to smell the bouquet of the featured wines at Ponte Simone. We both have saved up our pennies for a night out at Tãwa, the glorious sushi restaurant, in Piazza Roma.
Do I sound homesick? I am, I am! Soon we will be back home in Pontelandolfo and I can’t wait.
Will we see you there? In 2025 we have two incredible opportunities for you to become a part of our village. Cook in the Kitchens of Pontelandolfo – May 17th to the 24th or September 6th to the 13th! This yummy program has been bringing smiles to the faces of culinary adventurers since 2016. (Not bragging, but last year we got a tourism award.) Check out the videos on the website – lots of food, laughter, and community. Then register and join the fans.
Follow your Creative Muse to Pontelandolfo
Our newest adventure is literally literature. Toss your laptop in a bag and participate in our 2025 Writers’ Refuge in the Sannio Hills. This Writer’s Retreat runs from June 21 to June 28th. Authors can soak up the atmosphere and work on their craft with Amy Scott of Scott Editorial.
All of the adventures start with a bar crawl. ‘Midge, Midge,” you are thinking, “a bar crawl is soooo sophomoric.” Nah! It is anything but sophomoric. What an incredible way to explore different parts of the village, meet locals and gain an understanding of village life.
Our very first group of writers joined the village in 2024. Playwrights organized by the New Jersey non profit – Write Where You Are. They wrote. They flourished. They conquered.
Duh! How could I forget. Bam! I did forget. Yesterday, January 6th I was in Piazza Roma trying to get to the doctor’s office first thing. He was closed. WHAT – the farmacia was closed. What is going on?
I walked into our house at about 9:30 AM and there on an end table near the “Jack chair” sat a bright read sack filled with candy. Turning, nestled in the chair I always curl up in, I spied a second red sack. More candy! Then it hit me – La Befana was here. We must have both been very good. Besides candy, both our bags included a bottle of an adult beverage.
Grazie La Befana (or bestie pal Nicola who tiptoed in with the stash). Growing up in rural agrarian Somerset County, New Jersey, LaBefana was not part of the landscape. The first time I heard about this sprightly old woman who brings candy to those who are good and carbone to the wicked was about 20 years ago. I saw, in an Italian book store, what I thought were kitchen witches. Or simply strega, like the witches of Benevento. Picking one up and glancing through the accompanying book I realized that La Befana was as important a part of the Christmas story as the three kings. She never did find the baby Jesus but every Epiphany she searches for and finds Italian children all over the world.
Her determination, working against the odds of her life, great choice of tattered togs and fearless nature has endeared her to me. It has been an interesting journey following the Epiphany celebrations. In Venice a cotillion of gondolas float by, each piloted by La Befana. In Alghero, Sardegna we saw La Befana effigies hung on very light post. In Rome’s Piazza Navona, one can find La Befana making appearances. Urbania, in the region of Marche, purports to be the official home of La Befana. (I think the woods behind our house in Flagtown, NJ were really her home. Just kidding.) Every year folks come to Urbania and watch La Befana fly down from the town’s bell tower.
Morcone, my other favorite paese in the Sannio Hills, had an incredible calendar this January. La Befana, on stilts, paraded down the street followed by musicians sporting traditional instruments. There was a marvelous mercatino.
Did I mention the elves?
The most astounding thing that happens in Morcone is a living nativity – Presepe Vivente. It is the best community involved theater I have ever seen. After wandering through the historic center redone as Bethlehem, one walked down to a huge field to see Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus find shelter. The three kings are there but La Befana never made it. I made the following video in 2018. Every year the spectacular gets better and better.
I was so taken with the fable that one year I put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard and – if I do say so myself- a charming contemporary play featuring this feisty character leaped into the page.
Mamma Mia – La Befana?! weaves the ancient Italian Epiphany tale, La Befana, into a contemporary American setting. Could the fun loving sixty-something Nonna from Florida really be the thousands of years old scruffy old woman who on January 5th delivers gifts to the good children and coal to the bad? The answer becomes evident as Nonna/Befana uses her holiday magic to find her lost and injured granddaughter, Mary.
Shazam- the magic continues- Mamma Mia La Befana?! Was published by Next Stage Press. It is a perfect piece for a theater’s or school’s holiday season. Just as La Befana zaps around the world, I would be thrilled to see this play zoom to a theater near you.
Share this play with a pal.
Auguri! May 2025 be a happy, healthy and creative year. I know La Befana will never leave you coal.
Nonna's Mulberry Tree 