The three of them looked sad and forlorn hiding behind the washing machine in her kitchen terrace. But even in its derelict state the ochre vase made an attractive piece against the two dark grey sanpietrini stones.
She had just died, my mother, at the start of the second Iraq war, to make us all doubly sad. How long ago had she hidden out of her daily sight those three witnesses to her love of family is hard to tell. There must have been a point at which she realized that her strength was fading and – worse still – her family had all gone and no longer required melanzane sotto olio (eggplants – also known as aubergines – preserved in oil).
The vase – only survivor of two – was among the chattel she deemed necessary to take when the family moved from Delianuova, in the Aspromonte Mountains of Calabria, to Rome in 1950. She took also two round-shaped pieces of water-resistant wood, specifically cut by her eldest brother Raffaele to fit inside the vases. For the next thirty plus years they helped her to preserve our favourite vegetable for the winter months.
Aubergine dishes are a staple in Calabrian cooking and she continued the tradition in Rome. Hardly a summer day would go by without aubergines being served with pasta sauce or as a vegetable, fried or grilled, baked with cheese and tomato sauce – parmigiana – or baked with peppers, zucchini and potatoes – peperonata – or as filled boats – ripiene – or alla Calabrese.
For our family winter supply she preserved them, and this is where her vases were essential. Come September, she would buy large quantities of the purple fruit and start her operations. After cutting them in thick slices she blanched them and then spread them on large surfaces laid with old cloths to absorb the liquid. The slices then went into the two vases and were tightly squeezed in to cover the whole surface. When the vase was almost full, she placed the round wooden board on top and then…she needed a weight to push down the board on the aubergines and squeeze up the liquid. She had not brought from Calabria the special stones reserved for this task. She started by using a pan full of water, but it proved impractical: if the weight was right, it would be too large to fit inside the vase and push in the wooden board.
One day she came back from her shopping errands loaded with two heavy stones in her trolley and with a beaming smile on her face. “I found them,” she said. “They were in a heap on the pavement. These are perfect. They are heavy but not too large and fit well inside my pots. I will clean them immediately.”
Sanpietrini were – and still are in many streets of Rome – the standard paving stones for the city of Saint Peter from which they take their name. Cut in a prismatic shape, the smaller base goes into the ground, leaving the wider, polished base to join thousand more sanpietrini in gracing the roads and strengthening their surfaces.
Photo: Courtesy of Grazie Ietto Gillies
Each morning after taking her beloved espresso coffee, she poured out the liquid that had surfaced from the melanzane and then reposition in the vases the wooden pieces topped by the sanpietrini. After circa ten days, she consulted me if I happen to be in Rome: .Grazia, there has been no extra liquid for two days, do you think they are now, dry enough to be dressed?”
My answer came without hesitation. I knew that if she popped the question it was because she was convinced they were ready, and who better than her to assess the situation?
She then emptied the vase and cleaned and dried it thoroughly, ready to be filled again with layers of aubergine slices dressed with plenty of salt, chilli, garlic, oregano and olive oil. On the last layer, near the top of the vase the oil would be laid in abundance. On cold winter days a few slices provided a welcome supply of the beloved vegetable for the family.
I have lived in London for over 50 years now and aubergines and peppers have been available for several decades. I cook them often but not for preservation as they are available all year round. I confess, however, to feeling uneasy when buying them in winter at my local supermarket. My mother’s reproachful eye seems to be looking at me from beyond her grave. She did come to visit us in London a few times and she liked to do food shopping and cooking. She took charge of my kitchen and my shopping just as if she had been in her Calabria or Rome homes. She liked the London supermarkets where her lack of English was no barrier to shopping. However, she was very suspicious of frozen food and out-of-season fruit and vegetables.
“Mamma, the aubergines in winter are fine; they come from the Southern Hemisphere.”
“How can they be fine? It is not natural for fruit and vegetables to travel such distances.”
In that bleak February after her funeral, I took with me her remaining vase. It now sits in my London home as depository of our umbrellas. It looks cheerful and seems to love its new role and home. I am sure Mamma would have approved of its change of location and function. The sanpietrini have been left where they belong…in Rome.
Grazia Ietto Gillies is Emerita Professor in Economics at London South Bank University. She was born in Calabria and moved to Rome with her family when she was ten. She lived and worked as an academic economist in London from 1971 and has published extensively in economics. Her memoir on Calabria, By the Olive Groves. A Calabrian Childhood, was published in 2017.
