OFFSHORE SICILY
Rocky, windswept and utterly seductive, the Sicilian island of Pantelleria is among the best-kept secrets in the Mediterranean, writes LIBBY TRAVERS.
Discovering the hidden island of Pantelleria and the rugged beauty of the Aeolian islands.
Every day, just before the sun begins its descent over the edge of the Mediterranean and into North Africa, the jellyfish hunter appears at Scauri’s lighthouse. He comes armed with his long-handled net; he’s accompanied by his wife. They smile and chat as they scale the cliff wall to the sea. This easy athleticism belies their age. They must be at least 70.
In the lingering sunlight the Med is azure, alive with fish, jellyfish and urchins. She dives in. He remains at the water’s edge, watching with net in hand, trident-like. He’s not so much hunting the creatures as keeping them at bay. A crèche of fourand five-year-olds frolic in the deep water, largely unattended; when they reach eight or nine they learn to dive and start jumping off the high rocks. The jellyfish hunter surveys it all – the population of 7,500 Panteschi have learnt to rely on each other and to be wary of what comes from the sea.
The dark cliffs and formations of volcanic rock that have given Pantelleria the name La Perla Negra (The Black Pearl) have also offered protection from marauders. Strategically located in the Sicilian Strait – 100 kilometres off Sicily and 60 from Tunisia – Pantelleria has been contested since Neolithic times. When the island wasn’t under attack by successive waves of Phoenicians, Carthaginians and Romans, it was buffeted by howling winds. The island’s inhabitants have long looked inland for work and sustenance.
There’s a gentle pace to life here, dictated by the weather and the seasons and the arrival of the jellyfish hunter each night at the lighthouse. This timelessness is so integral to the culture it’s perhaps no coincidence there’s no future tense in the Pantescan dialect.
A rich agricultural history is evident in the patchwork of ancient dry-rock walls across the island. The terraces help shelter vineyards of the endemic zibibbo grape and orchards of olive trees, pruned to waist height to further protect them from the gales. The island is renowned for its capers, the resilient bushes clinging in cracks and crevices, and oregano and purslane grow wild.
In the 1970s and ’80s Pantelleria became a summer playground for the European glitterati, when the likes of Giorgio Armani and French actors Carole Bouquet and Gerard Depardieu bought villas. To accommodate their entourages and those who followed, several hotels were built high above the villages. At the height of the boom, many Panteschi left their farms to work in the tourist trade. But the tide turned in the late ’80s and several hotels are now deserted. Although many islanders returned to the land, many farms remain abandoned.
Even so, the island has a loyal fanbase of travellers, most of whom stay during the summer months of
July and August, and is home to an eclectic group
of expat artists, ceramicists, architects, fishermen, musicians and distillers.
Visionaries such as architect and long-time resident Gabriella Giuntoli have helped preserve the island’s aesthetic by restoring the dammusi, the distinctive traditional houses built with the island’s black porous rocks. These dwellings are ingeniously designed to admit the cool night air in summer and retain the day’s warmth in winter. It’s dry here, and their whitewashed domes are built to trap the rain. One of the most impressive dammusi starred in director Luca Guadagnino’s 2015 stylish drama A Bigger Splash.
Renewed appreciation among connoisseurs for the island’s distinctive produce – the celebrated zibibbo, its particularly punchy capers and perfumed oregano – has in turn drawn people back to the land. Among a new wave of entrepreneurs is Milanese-born chefturned-winemaker Jacopo Bianchi. “My goal is to represent the island in my wine,” he says, describing the flavour as “hotness, freshness, sour, honey, lemon – a mess that is more soil than sea”. Wine bearing his Anforaje label is served at restaurants including the Catalan hotspot El Celler de Can Roca, where he has worked. Bianchi recently bought land on the island and plans to cultivate zibibbo, and he’s among the winemakers producing savoury white wine with the grape. (For a traditional sweet passito made with zibibbo, try Salvatore Ferrandes’ wine.)
Other winemakers making waves include Francesco Ferreri, whose Tanca Nica label is making a frizzante wine, which he names Ghirbí; and Gabrio Bini, whose wine is matured in amphorae buried beneath the porous volcanic pumice. Try his straight zibibbo or Fanino Serragghia, made by his son Giotto with a combination of white (catarratto) and red (pignatello) grapes.
Living like a Pantesco means eating like one. During my first visit to the island in 2017, I was surprised by the scarcity of local seafood. I quickly learnt there’s little protected habitat for fish on the deep, rocky coastline, so it’s mainly deep-sea fish and rock dwellers – octopus and urchins – on menus. I’ve returned to the island a handful of times and have found it takes only three or four local ingredients to create a Pantescan feast. Lunch at Kayà Kayà, in the port of Scauri, involves simple combinations: octopus with celery, potatoes and olive oil, eggplant in a tomato sauce with breadcrumbs and grated ricotta, or grilled zucchini with mint in a pool of olive oil. Teamed with a beer and a quick swim at the lighthouse, it’s exactly what I want to eat on a summer’s day.
At Osteria Il Principe e Il Pirata, arguably the island’s best food is served on a terrace with views over the rugged south-east. Here, the robust flavour of local scorpion fish makes easy friends with olive oil and the juices of tomatoes, olives and capers.
On days when the only fish available has been flown in, I choose spaghetti with pesto made from island capers and pistachio nuts.
On the opposite side of the island, Pantelleria’s main town is worth avoiding. Known to the locals as Paese, the town was once a labyrinth of pebbled laneways and low-slung buildings but was heavily bombed in 1943 by American forces, and the old town is now a hodgepodge of panicked architecture. (A notable exception is the Tunisian-inspired Parrocchia del Santissimo Salvatore church, designed by Gabriella Giuntoli.)
Beyond the daily quest for food, I spend languid days chasing the sun while hiding from the wind. It comes from all directions, each with its own name and personality, and these gales can shape an island itinerary. When the hot sirocco blows from Africa, I take shelter in Pantelleria’s northern outcrops: Cala Levante, and the beautiful arched Arco dell’Elefante or, if it’s really blowing, the port of Gadir. When the mistral rattles south from the Rhône Valley before shooting across the Mediterranean, I head to the southern swimming holes at Scauri’s port or lighthouse.
The ring road is only about 50 kilometres, so it’s quite feasible to bookend each day by watching the sun rise from and set into the ocean. After sunrise, my favourite ritual takes place at Panificio Terremoto, a bakery in the backstreets of Khamma, in the northeast. It makes excellent traditional local specialties, including the intricate mustazzoli Panteschi, a semolinabased sweet biscuit flavoured with lemon and warm spices, and bacio Pantesco, a “sandwich” of puffed, deep-fried wafers filled with ricotta and cinnamon.
“The life here in Pantelleria is mainly made of traditions because maybe we like continuity in life,” says owner Giovanni Billardello, who has been baking at Panificio Terremoto for the past 50 years. He points to the bakery’s central feature, an old wood-fired oven. “This oven was born before the Second World War more or less, and continues to be still ‘alive’ today.” Billardello is among an older generation upholding the island’s traditions.
“It is difficult to get away from Pantelleria,” he says, “because once you have been there for the first time you fall in love with it immediately and you cannot help but go back.”
Pantelleria’s volcano is no longer regarded as active, and yet the place remains full of volcanic energy – gas seeps from rock walls and fuel natural saunas in the mountains, nutrient-rich mud in the lake and hot springs by the sea. This complex geology can be appreciated on a boat tour, where my guide points out layers of rock and takes me to a hidden cove; I dive in and swim over patches of heated water. Inland, the island is dotted with ruins, including 57 preserved sesi, or stone tombs, dating to the Bronze Age.
The internet doesn’t always work on Pantelleria. The hire cars are beaten-up and there’ll likely be no phone reception after it rains. And yet the island’s raw, rugged beauty – neither Italian nor African – and an air of being untouched keep drawing me back. The rituals and social gatherings and feasts don’t revolve around brief holiday seasons, but the Panteschi welcome expats and travellers regardless. Young people are returning to the island. Though there’s no future tense here, the future looks bright.