I’ve eaten my way through Naples, Puglia, and Sicily, and I cook this stuff at home every week. If you want the blow-by-blow of those meals, you can skim my deeper diary over on this bite-by-bite recap. I’m talking pizza with real char, pasta with bite, and lemons so bright they almost sing. Was it all perfect? Nope. But I’ll tell you what hit, what didn’t, and what I still dream about.
Where I Ate (And What I Loved)
- Naples, 2024: I waited 50 minutes at Da Michele for a Margherita. It was €5, hot, and floppy in the best way. The sauce tasted like summer. The crust had that soft chew. I got sauce on my shirt and did not care.
- Also Naples: I grabbed a paper cone of fried shrimp and zucchini, a cuoppo, from Il Cuoppo near Via Toledo. Salty, crunchy, a touch oily. I squeezed lemon over it and kept walking.
- Bari, 2023: Panificio Fiore sells focaccia barese with cherry tomatoes pushed deep into the dough. It’s thick, a bit oily, and the bottom is crisp. I ate two big squares standing in the street.
- Catania, Sicily: Pasticceria Savia gave me a huge arancino al ragù. The rice was saffron-yellow and the center was meaty and warm. I burned my tongue. Worth it.
- Palermo: Antica Focacceria San Francesco for panelle (chickpea fritters) on bread. Crunchy outside, soft inside. Add lemon and salt and it just pops.
- Amalfi: Lemon granita from a tiny stand by the steps. It tasted like cold sun. I still think about it when I’m stuck at my desk.
If you want a curated map of markets, street stalls, and family-run trattorias across the region, swing by Tasting Europe for inspiration before you book your ticket.
The Dishes That Stuck With Me
Here’s the thing: the food is simple, but not plain. It’s about good stuff cooked right.
- Spaghetti alle vongole (clams): Clean, briny, and glossy from pasta water and olive oil. Not heavy. When it’s good, it feels like the sea.
- Pasta alla Norma (Sicily): Fried eggplant, tomatoes, basil, and salty ricotta salata. Sweet and rich, but not dull.
- Orecchiette con cime di rapa (Puglia): Bitter greens, garlic, anchovy, and a little heat. It’s earthy and strong. Not cute food—real food.
- Pizza Margherita (Naples): Soft center, leopard spots on the crust. If the tomato is sweet and the basil is fresh, you don’t need anything else.
- Cannoli: Best when shells are filled to order. If the shell is already filled, it goes soft. I learned that the messy way.
When I Cook It at Home
I’m no chef, but I practice. I use gear and brands that have treated me well.
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Pantry and tools I trust:
- Mutti peeled tomatoes for sauce. Sweet and bright.
- Rummo and De Cecco pasta. Holds its shape and stays al dente.
- Partanna extra-virgin olive oil (green tin). Peppery finish.
- Agostino Recca anchovies. Meaty and clean.
- La Nicchia capers from Pantelleria. Tiny, firm, and salty in a good way.
- A cheap microplane for lemon zest that I use almost daily.
- Ooni pizza oven on my patio; it’s fast and fun, but it burns crust if I get cocky.
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My quick weeknight move: spaghetti with tomatoes, garlic, and basil. I smash the garlic in olive oil, add Mutti tomatoes, salt, one anchovy, and a little pasta water. Toss pasta in the pan so the sauce sticks. Basil at the end. Extra oil if I’m feeling bold.
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For Sunday: slow ragù Napoletano. Beef and pork simmer for hours with onions and tomato. The smell fills the house. I freeze half, and future me always thanks me.
One last tip: every Italian grandma (nonna) I’ve met swears that food tastes better when you cook with confidence and a little mischief. If you’re curious about that seasoned, no-filter energy—and don’t mind a cheeky detour—take a peek at these old women. You’ll find unvarnished stories, bold personality, and life-tested wisdom that might just inspire you to toss pasta like a pro (or at least grin while trying).
The Good, The Great, and The “Hmm”
What I love:
- Bright flavors. Acid from tomato and lemon. Salt from cheese and anchovy. Fat from oil. It all clicks. A chilled glass of cava—the Spanish bubbly I obsess over—is my favorite surprise pairing with these salty plates.
- Texture. Pasta with bite. Eggplant that’s silky. Pizza with a soft center and a puffed rim.
- Price. Honestly, a lot of this food is fair, even cheap, if you skip fancy spots.
What’s tough:
- Lines. Sorbillo in Naples? I waited and got hungry-angry. Worth it, but plan ahead.
- Oil. Some fried foods drip. A napkin helps, but still.
- Sweet-on-sweet. Limoncello can feel sticky. Cannoli can be heavy after a big meal.
- Cash-only spots. I got caught once in Bari. Awkward shuffle. Bring coins.
Small Tips That Make a Big Difference
- Ask if cannoli are filled to order. If yes, you win.
- Save pasta water. It’s liquid gold. It helps sauce cling without cream.
- Taste the olive oil by itself. Good oil should smell like grass or tomato leaf.
- For pizza at home, use less cheese than you think. Let the sauce lead.
- Seasonal makes everything better. Summer tomatoes and basil? That’s the show.
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A Quick Summer Story
One hot night in Naples, the power flicked out in our rental. I ate cold mozzarella with tomatoes by the window. I tore basil with my hands and drizzled olive oil right from the bottle. It wasn’t fancy. It tasted perfect. You know what? Sometimes simple wins.
Who Will Love This Food
- If you like bold, clean flavors and don’t need heavy sauces, you’ll be happy.
- If you crave fried snacks and street food, you’ll be happier.
- If you want super fancy plating, you may feel let down. This food lives in bowls, cones, and paper.
- Curious how these southern staples stack up against the rest of Europe? Peek at my top 10 continental bites and see where they land.
My Bottom Line
Southern Italian food is generous, loud, and honest. It fills your heart and your table. Not every bite is perfect. Some days it’s too salty, or the shell goes soft, or the line is too long. But when it lands, it really lands.
Rating: 9/10. I’d book the flight again—and I’ll keep cooking it on Tuesday nights.