The Awaiting Table: A journey into the food and wine of the Salento

Three weeks in Puglia.

I set out on a long-awaited trip to a region of Italy I had yet to explore. 

​My itinerary consisted of a dozen towns along both the Adriatic and Ionian coasts of Italy’s stiletto, as well as some inland gems. There was enough room in the itinerary for spontaneous adjustments and unexpected discoveries, and it was certainly a priority to sense and savour every ounce of local culture. 

​One of the cities I was excited about discovering in Puglia and the Salento peninsula was Lecce – a historic hub known as “The Florence of the South” for its splendid baroque architecture. While still in Canada, I looked up cooking and wine courses that would allow me to learn about the regional specialties in a more hands-on way. A Google search landed me on The Awaiting Table – a then eleven-year-old school that had glowing Trip Advisor reviews. I lost myself on the website, reading about the school’s approach and its variety of courses. The most appealing ones were a week long, either in central Lecce or in a historic Castello. There were specialized courses focusing on wine, bicycling and cooking, making tomato sauce or making olive oil – I loved the idea of every one of them! 

​I would only be in Lecce for 3 days, so I’d only have enough time for a day-course. My dates weren’t on the class calendar, but I decided to send an enthusiastic and hopeful e-mail (I could barely contain my excitement after having discovered this school!) to inquire anyway. Silvestro, the owner, was so accommodating, and – before I knew it –  I had a day-course booked in my name.

​Flash-forward to that July morning. 

​The city was slowly coming to life, though circling pigeons and a scorching sun had already dominated the sky for some time. Silvestro came to pick us up in Piazza Sant-Oronzo, a large wicker basket in hand. We set out to the market to choose our fresh ingredients for both lunch and supper. The immersive learning had already begun without notice; as we walked through Lecce’s ochre-toned streets, Silvestro pointed out landmarks and described life in the town, his explanations punctuated by waves and nods to fellow locals who passed us by. “There goes Silvestro and a new batch of students,” I imagined them thinking. Through conversation and abridged life histories, we began to get a sense of Silvestro’s passion for Puglia and the basic principles of salentine food, which I like to think of as simplicity, authenticity and loyalty to the land. 

​We passed Porta Rudiae, Lecce’s oldest city gate, and walked into the market. Cesare greeted Silvestro and our mission began. The menu was set; Silvestro had all the necessary ingredients in mind for each course. “We need parsley,” he’d say to me, prompting me to ask Cesare for a batch of it. This interchange was repeated for each required ingredient. Silvestro took care of ordering the rabbit, and we were off – wicker basket filled to the brim and hands eager to get to work. 

​“That’s Emiluccia,” Silvestro affectionately pointed out his Fiat 500 when we crossed his courtyard. The day-course takes place at Silvestro’s house, in a kitchen he created from scratch from an old stable. Stepping into the kitchen was like stepping into an authentic, colorful, picture-perfect cookbook – only better. In just my style of colorful, functional décor, the walls were adorned with colorful colanders, wooden cutting boards, pots and pans, and some of Silvestro’s photographs. Bowls, utensils and other appliances were labelled in Italian to allow foreign students to pick up some new vocabulary during their stay.  A cool natural light poured in from the garden. We emptied our groceries onto the marble counter and Silvestro began to explain what we would cook for lunch. I tried to focus, but my senses were completely overwhelmed in that kitchen! I asked Silvestro if I could take a couple of quick photos before getting started. “It’s so beautiful, it’s distracting,” I laughed. 

​In the meantime, Silvestro poured the wine and prepared our cutting boards for us to begin making our fresh pasta. We wore aprons, rolled up our sleeves and got our hands involved without any hesitation. We learned by doing, our hands-on experience complemented by Silvestro’s explanations. Silvestro's priority was not only to teach, but also to take care of his guests; no question was unwelcome, no strategy was incorrect – all he asked in return was that we be happy in his kitchen. “There is only one rule here,” he told us.

Being happy was almost too easy. I couldn’t think of a better way to spend the day.  

My orecchiette were far from perfect; having watched local ladies effortlessly make hundreds of orecchiette by hand in front of their homes in Old Bari, I expected my hands to be faster and more successful than they actually were. “Track your progress,” Silvestro advised, lining up his own orecchiette chronologically on his cutting board. “You’ll see how you improve with practice”.

While our two varieties of handmade pasta shapes were drying, we proceeded to chop and prep the rest of our ingredients, opening bottle after bottle of wine.

When time came to sit down, elbows resting peacefully on the colorful linen, we savoured our lunch, careful to eat slowly, conscious of the hours of thoughtful preparation. ​

In the late afternoon, Silvestro took us wine-shopping and gave us a crash course on the local varieties, their differences and individual strengths. Negroamaro, malvasia nera, salice salentino, primitivo…we made mental notes and anticipated the tastes of each variety.   
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We returned to the kitchen and began to prepare our supper. Silvestro took to the chalkboard, and gave us a short lesson on the “why” of salentine cuisine – the ways in which the food has been influenced by the region’s geography, climate and cultural contact over time. As we learned and cooked and drank and ate, we felt. We experienced a little bit of the local world view, and quickly realized that these are not simply recipes to discover or methods to learn, but a way of living and breathing.

What I loved most, perhaps, was that the conversations alternated flawlessly between getting to know one another and learning about cooking and wine. It was such a comfortable and inspiring setting, and it was genuinely easy to lose track of time.

As the evening aged, our voices grew quieter. There was an unmistakable temptation to help clear the plates and tidy the kitchen, as you would do with old friends who selflessly hosted you.
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As we said our thank yous and goodbyes, and headed out into the surprisingly lively Lecce night, I realized I got more out of that one-day course than I expected. I couldn’t stop talking about it for days to follow. I have since recommended it to friends, and I wholeheartedly recommend it to you.

​Through conversation and participation, hands-on practice, you internalize more than you thought possible in such a short time. When the time comes to leave, you do so with full stomachs, full hearts and overwhelmed senses, with flavors of food and wine still on your tongue, and new facts whirling about in your head, becoming consolidated as new knowledge. And, to your surprise, that initial sense of wonder and curiosity has not subsided but is even amplified, pushing you to make immediate plans to return.

The Awaiting Table has been around for fourteen years, but is constantly growing and improving; with Silvestro's creativity and intuitive sense of innovation, there is always a new kind of course being offered.
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To get a taste of the culture and everything there is to experience and to learn, treat yourself to some of Silvestro’s compelling short films and blog posts. Until you could get there yourself, they are sure to peek your interest and make you dream of Italy’s unspoiled heel. 

From my heart to yours!