Our passion takes us back in time, when as children we woke up early on Sundays and, accompanied by our grandparents or mothers, we went to the marina to buy fresh fish directly from the boats, in order to prepare our delicious soup. The semolina was nocked in the mafaradda, a fascinating enameled terracotta container, while it rested in the maidda, our cupboard, which contained the cooking fish soup. Afterwards, we took the nocked semolina, gave it all the necessary aromas and spices, and transferred it to the couscoussiera, a sort of terracotta colander. Then we placed the couscoussiera on a pot with water and the same aromas used to season the semolina. We kneaded the flour with a little water and sealed the couscoussiera on the pot, in order to allow the steam to escape only from the top, ensuring the perfect cooking of the semolina. The excess dough was used to create cuccureddi, delicious taralli that we placed on the semolina. When they were cooked, it was the signal that the couscous was ready to be enjoyed. Couscous requires at least 90 minutes of cooking, starting from the moment steam begins to escape from the couscous maker. In the meantime, we slowly let the dripping broth slide into the pot. As soon as the couscous was perfectly cooked, we gently immersed it in the boiling broth and left it to rest for at least an hour inside the lemmo, a magnificent enameled terracotta bowl. To maintain the enveloping heat, we placed a warm blanket over it. Even today, when we create our delicious couscous in the restaurant, it seems as if time stands still. We immerse ourselves in the memory of the moments spent, while the aromas envelop the air and the soup simmers with passion.
Giuseppe Alongi and Antonio Vultaggio
, ()
