Tagliatelle, tortellini and lasagne — all originate from Bologna, where authentic versions use fresh egg pasta called ‘la sfoglia,’ made by artisans known as ‘sfogline.’

To protect those traditions and the artisans who carry them out, Bologna has established a certification process to distinguish the real deal from imposters.

Link to the original broadcast by Radio DW : Inside Europe – 12 March 2026

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The Accidental Farmer

Our first stop is Vientos della Granja, the clouds indulgently pausing literally moments before our arrival, giving us the opportunity for a full tour. Set next to endless fields of sugar cane, the farm offers a curious change of scene. Rows of planting beds, a variety of trees, shrubs and flowers, and a spacious greenhouse-come-nursery. Our guide is Doctor Anabel Villanueva, definitely not your typical local farmer. Having moved to the USA to pursue her career in medicine, she returned temporarily in 2012 to take care of her 93-year-old mother, “and she passed away a week shy of 101!”. Anabel brought home a mix of memories and desires that have evolved into this new chapter which is, as she describes it, both challenging and gratifying.

Missing the fresh, organic vegetables she could get so easily in the US, she planted her own kitchen garden in her mother’s backyard. Soon she had so much surplus produce she started giving it away, then selling it affordably-priced locally, and then giving it to her chef cousin to cook for the poor. She calls it her grandfather’s legacy – he was a farmer who cultivated rice, vegetables and fruit, not just sugar cane, and sent weekly baskets of fresh produce to his children.

It was soon clear she needed more space, “I told my brother, I don’t want to plant sugar cane, I want organic vegetables!”. Going organic amidst fields of non-organic sugar cane isn’t easy. And convincing local farmers to halve their yield by switching to organic sugar cane is a battle yet to be won.

So Anabel started with a water barrier around her 2.7 hectares, and trees – hundreds of bamboos. They now have fruit trees including native ones like pili nut and santol (cotton fruit). They grow aubergines, okra, tomatoes, kale, spinach, rocket, bok choi and gourds. They have mango, durian and more than 270 criollo cacao trees, acquired from their friend, Christopher Fadriga, whose beans are internationally prize-winning. They keep native pigs, goats and chickens which are the basis of Bacolod’s signature dish chicken inasal – marinated chargrilled native chicken.

When Typhoon Tino Hit

As we walk, Anabel explains how they do integrated farming, mixing Korean, Japanese and JADAM farming systems. They make their own fertilizers, soil enhancers and natural pesticides, and have solar-powered water pumps.

But the lettuce is dead, the vegetable beds destroyed, and all the banana trees are gone – victims of Typhoon Tino which hit two weeks prior to our visit. “For me, the biggest challenge right now for farmers, it’s not pests, it’s not the use of fertilizers, it’s severe weather”, says Anabel, explaining how much worse it has got compared to her childhood growing up here. But unlike many who complain about the devastation the cyclones bring, Anabel looks for – and finds – solutions. As a retired doctor, she believes in “trying to be broad spectrum, like an antibiotic!” You can’t just be resilient, she says, you have to adapt. She’s been studying the wind and its direction. “This area, it’s called Vientos de La Granja, meaning ‘winds of the farm’ because this is always where the wind crosses over. You can’t withstand 200 km per hour wind unless you work with it.” She’s planning to reorient her vegetable beds and build more structures like her nursery-come-greenhouse, the only one left standing. Expensive, she says, but worth it, “It’s made of mesh so pests can’t get in and the wind passes right through it”. The banana trees came down but they protected the cacao, still thriving and now sturdy enough to withstand future winds. “We’ve learnt valuable lessons, like prune your trees when a storm is coming.” One Italian visitor in our group says they do the same to prepare for the snow – some practical methods are truly universal.

We walk a little further and Anabel points to their Hügelkultur – where fallen trees are transformed into compost mounds then covered with soil and planted on. “Some people burn their fallen trees. I don’t allow it; that’s pollution. And it’s material that I can use on the farm, it’s organic matter. Why would I waste it by burning it?”

As well as tourist groups like ours, they invite city children from Bacolod to do farm activities here. And they’ve also opened an organic restaurant, 26 Herb Garden, where her cousin, Joeri Arro, cooks traditional local specialities using their produce.

Before we leave for the coffee trail, we’re invited to have some refreshments. Joeri, indicates 3 ceramic bowls, each containing an ingredient for us to create our own herbal infusion: bright orange slices of fresh turmeric, vibrant green mint and slender tarragon leaves, all grown literally a few steps from us. I pour the hot water onto my selection and inhale the fragrant steam. There’s a plate with an array of local snacks: different coloured round puto (Filipino steamed rice cakes) in the centre, and alupi – little rectangular parcels – arranged in a fan around them. Anabel explains that alupi is made with finely ground cassava flour mixed with a little bit of brown sugar and young coconut which is wrapped in a banana leaf and steamed, “Please taste it! This is our pride and joy!”. The sweetness and texture are perfect. I can’t resist tasting the purple puto too: ube and coconut. Its delicate flavour goes spectacularly well with the aromatic tea.

And then it’s time to say goodbye and set off for our next destination.

Sugar Valley

The sky is threateningly overcast as we drive through lush green hills to our next destination: Teddy Cañete’s farm, Sugar Valley. We arrive and are led along a path to a large covered open-air reception area with breathtaking views across the misty valley below. Teddy smiles with satisfaction as we admire the panorama; he points to the top of the hill where he was born and raised until the military moved the family down here during the insurgence. Transport and access to schools is easier from here so they stayed.

Teddy is an indigenous, third generation coffee farmer; a proud member of and local spokesperson for the Slow Food Coffee Coalition. He tells his story with a matter-of-fact eloquence, a tale of land for the landless, a struggle with the government for tenure rights, and a final victory in the form of a certificate of land ownership little over a decade ago. Today Teddy wants to tell us above all about the happiest chapter… but first we must taste his coffee!

The table is piled high with a selection of sweet treats made by the local community: banana and chocolate chip cup cakes, sticky rice and cassava cakes. The coffee is extraordinary – smooth, chocolatey and naturally sweet. Teddy says the flavour is given by the cacao trees on his farm during pollination, “This is the thing we call biodiversity”.

As we sip and nibble, Teddy talks. He tells us how things were and how they are now. In the past, they would pick the coffee cherries – or berries as he prefers to call them – and sell them to traders. The traders said their quality was very low and paid so little that farmers couldn’t cover their own labour costs. But then Teddy was introduced to the Coffee Coalition. “What I am now is because of Slow Food”, he says earnestly. The opportunity to meet and exchange information with coffee professionals, aficionados and farmers from other parts of the world has, Teddy says, changed his life. He has learnt how to select and process his beans and has turned coffee into a valuable resource. Even the simplest advice, like ‘wash your beans in clean water’ has had a huge impact on quality. “Knowledge is caring”, he puts it simply, explaining how the coffee coalition taught him that he needed to understand his product to argue its value. “It’s really boosting to my confidence in pursuing my plan to continue educating my fellow coffee farmers.” There are now 42 farmers in the Minoyan Murcia Marginal Agriculture Cooperative who have learnt to commercialize so they can cut out the middleman and sell directly. They aren’t officially certified organic, instead they use the Participatory Guarantee System among the local farmers. The cost of official certification, says Teddy, can go towards education or employing extra staff. “I can still sell my coffee in the coalition. Just taste it! This coffee is really good, clean and fair.”

As we sip and nibble, Teddy talks. He tells us how things were and how they are now. In the past, they would pick the coffee cherries – or berries as he prefers to call them – and sell them to traders. The traders said their quality was very low and paid so little that farmers couldn’t cover their own labour costs. But then Teddy was introduced to the Coffee Coalition. “What I am now is because of Slow Food”, he says earnestly. The opportunity to meet and exchange information with coffee professionals, aficionados and farmers from other parts of the world has, Teddy says, changed his life. He has learnt how to select and process his beans and has turned coffee into a valuable resource. Even the simplest advice, like ‘wash your beans in clean water’ has had a huge impact on quality. “Knowledge is caring”, he puts it simply, explaining how the coffee coalition taught him that he needed to understand his product to argue its value. “It’s really boosting to my confidence in pursuing my plan to continue educating my fellow coffee farmers.” There are now 42 farmers in the Minoyan Murcia Marginal Agriculture Cooperative who have learnt to commercialize so they can cut out the middleman and sell directly. They aren’t officially certified organic, instead they use the Participatory Guarantee System among the local farmers. The cost of official certification, says Teddy, can go towards education or employing extra staff. “I can still sell my coffee in the coalition. Just taste it! This coffee is really good, clean and fair.”

“Make a better Teddy”

Teddy believes his connection with Slow Food has made him a better person. He has learnt that there is money to be made in producing top quality coffee. He has paid for his daughter to finish her education and acquired more land. And he has also learnt how doing things the right way can contribute to caring for nature and the environment and preserving biodiversity. That’s why he has built a dormitory for trainee farmers to come to learn here. And now Slow Food Travel is opening more new paths, “I’m very, excited. It’s another opportunity to engage, to connect, to make a better Teddy!” he grins.

Visitors to the Sugar Valley coffee experience can choose from four official trails: easy, intermediate, advanced, extreme, and an unofficial fifth one, ‘the Spartan trail’. By now the rain is pelting down, leaving those who wanted to do a long trail disappointed and me, not the best at outdoor activities, secretly relieved. Teddy indicates areas of the hills across the valley as he describes each one. The intermediate takes 1.5 to 2 hours; advanced takes 2 to 2.5 hours and goes 800 metres above sea level; extreme takes four hours, “our Arabica coffee is there”; and for diehard hikers, the 5 hour Spartan trail takes you to the highest part of Teddy’s property, where his family used to live, “It’s a very historical area. There are some 120-year-old Liberica and Arabica coffee trees up there”. Teddy encourages visitors to push themselves to choose a challenging trail so they can appreciate how hard coffee farming is. He tells us that when he first started processing and selling directly, some people complained about the high price. His answer was “Okay, join me. We can walk 4 kilometres, you can carry the sack of coffee and we’ll talk about it later.” The ones who did it came back exhausted. “That’s our daily experience. The price you pay compensates for all the effort because, if we cannot find economic value in our product, maybe we’ll just cut the trees and sell them as charcoal. That’s why this coffee trail is so important.”

But the trails are about much more than walking and admiring the landscape and even the easy trail gives visitors a rare chance to learn. Teddy has bowls of berries and beans to show us the three types of coffee he grows: Liberica, Arabica and Robusta.  We see where they do each step of the process by hand: from selecting the perfectly red, ripe berries to washing, drying, hulling, fermenting, sorting and roasting. Nothing is wasted – imperfect berries or beans simply become lower graded cheaper coffee.

As we walk amidst the trees, Teddy explains the impact of climate change, showing us a single branch with a mix of red, orange and green berries. The fruits, he says, no longer ripen in a uniform way. In the past they could visit a tree just once to harvest, now they have to visit the same tree at least six times. Severe droughts and typhoons are a constant threat but Teddy uses the principles of agroecology, retaining old tall trees as natural protection to mitigate the effects. When Typhoon Tino hit, the damage to his coffee was very limited, “I can’t imagine without these tall trees what would happen to my farm. All my berries would be on the ground and once they touch the ground, that’s it.”

A Filipino Farm Feast

Lunch has been cooked by fellow farmer and guide, Dennis Peruelo and his wife. “All the food that we serve, we gather in this community”, he says, reminding us that the positive impact of tourist visits goes beyond Teddy’s coffee trail. Dennis explains each dish with a huge smile on his face. Native chicken adobo; pork with jackfruit, papaya and batwan, a local fruit used as a souring agent; water spinach, which grows wild around the edges of the rice fields, made with onions, vinegar and sugar; my favourite: ensalada made with jackfruit, tomatoes and onions; “and the last dish is rice, obviously”, Dennis giggles.  For dessert, there’s fresh juicy mango, water melon, pineapple and baby bananas. “We are so blessed,” says Teddy, “Whatever happens, we still have food to eat here in the mountains.” We too are blessed, I think, my tummy happily full.

Having purchased packets of coffee as the perfect pasalubong (Filipino souvenirs), we sign Teddy’s ‘vistors’ wall’ and set off back down to Bacolod as the rain gets even heavier.

From one wall to another

In Bacolod we find another unusual wall – this time at Coffee Culture Roastery. It’s the brainchild Thomas Sproten, “German by birth, Filipino by choice”, who decided to use coffee grounds to decorate his café. The colour is a warm shade of milk chocolate gelato, an understated tone leaving the spotlight on the back wall: a Sex Pistols-inspired mural bearing the slogan “God Save the Bean”. Thomas describes himself as “a bridge between the farms and the coffee-loving population in the cities”. He has been working hard to help Filipino farmers like Teddy produce top quality coffee and achieve the respect and recognition they deserve. The wall for Sugar Valley’s visitors to sign was his idea.

Upstairs, Thomas has a special room which is where we are treated to a fascinating and fun end to a day of exploration and discovery. We’re learning the basics of coffee cupping. Coffee cupping is a way of evaluating the smell and taste of coffee, and we’re learning from the best. Thomas is the first Q and R grader (the coffee equivalent of a wine sommelier) in the Philippines and a phenomenal teacher. We’re tasting a selection of Filipino coffees, one of which is Teddy’s. We learn the difference between fragrance and aroma; how to discern with your nose and your mouth, pushing your senses somewhere they may not have been before. We discover flavour wheels and the four major aromatics you can pick up as a beginner: chocolate, nuts, fruits and florals. Thomas recommends being open to memories and associations the coffee might trigger. We practise a weird, sucking action through our teeth to spray coffee all over the inside of our mouths: onto the tongue receptors, gums and retro-nasal cavity. It’s not, he explains, about what you like or don’t like but what you perceive. It makes me laugh. Thomas says it makes the farmers laugh too. He’s excited about the future of Filipino coffee, encouraging farmers like Teddy to make the most of their precious beans. “I’m grateful to be part of this and have people come here and listen to the story and, above all, go to the farms, not just have coffee here. It’s about working together.”

The coffee cupping session perfectly complements the farm visit but it does take a lot of concentration, “If you do the longer trail, you probably just wanna take a shower,” says Thomas, a host who makes you feel like nothing’s a problem, “so I’m very flexible if people want to come here the next day.”

Dinner in Bacolod

Our group doesn’t need a shower, having had one during the brief race from our minibus into Coffee Culture but by the time we say goodbye to Thomas, the rain has abated. The last stop to round off the day trip: dinner at Lanai by Fresh Start, an organic restaurant serving farm-to-table dishes made with locally sourced produce. Carabao (water buffalo) burrata; lapu-lapu (grouper) in ginamos sambal; and, for dessert, piaya (small flat breads made with muscovado sugar). After our incredible coffee trail experience, none of us needs an after dinner espresso.

Click here for the original:
Published on the Slowfood.com blog, December 2025

The post An Aromatic Adventure. Exploring Slow Food Travel’s Negros Island Trail appeared first on Danielle Mitzman.

First broadcast on 15 January 2025 on BBC Outlook
https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/w3ct5p5t

The post Ska Moteane and the cuisine of Lesotho appeared first on Danielle Mitzman.

With over 7,000 km of coastline, it’s not surprising mussels are such a popular dish on Italian menus. While Mediterranean mussels are nowadays farmed in nets in the sea, there’s one little bay in the central Italian region of Marche where ancient traditions remain.

Just south of the city of Ancona, Portonovo’s a unique place where the fishermen are still licensed to dive for and hand-harvest wild mussels growing on the reef. They call their mussels by the local dialect word: “moscioli”.

You only need a scuba-diving qualification and a medical certificate from the port doctor to become a mosciolo diver. Nevertheless, the tradition’s at risk of disappearing and it’s not because supplies are running out, as I discovered when I went to meet some of Portonovo’s fishermen.

Broadcast on Radio DW, 17 May 2012
Broadcast on Outlook, BBC World Service, 26th July 2012

https://www.dw.com/en/italys-dying-breed-of-wild-mussel-divers/audio-15956397

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Emilia Romagna is a region in northern Italy famous for its fine charcuterie, which can make avoiding meat dishes there particularly challenging.

One of the nicknames of my adoptive town is “Bologna la grassa”, or “Bologna the fat”.

The local diet is about as Mediterranean as chicken tikka masala. There is mortadella, a sausage known elsewhere as Bologna, the forefather of American baloney.

Then there is Bologna’s world famous ragu, the pasta sauce known in the UK as bolognese. This is a city where meat rules supreme.

But it is not fair to single out Bologna when really the entire inland part of Emilia Romagna, a region of northern Italy, could be dubbed Emilia la grassa.Image caption,

Castelnuovo Rangone is a proud pork capital

An hour away is Parma, the home of parma ham. Even Modena, just 20 minutes from me, has its own porky specialities, traditionally eaten at this time of year.

This is probably the only region where you will find a central piazza boasting a bronze statue of a porker.

Forget patron saints and heroes of the unification, round here the pig is king.

For many visitors the meaty specialities are an attraction but, from a culinary perspective, I could not have chosen a worse place to live.

The thing is, I do not eat meat. And for a local population where high cholesterol is in the DNA and pork scratchings are considered fine charcuterie, this is beyond comprehension.

They look at me with astonishment and pity.

“You do not eat meat?” they ask, with the same tone I remember using when a girl at school told me she was allergic to chocolate.

“You choose not to eat meat?” they say, their perplexity now infused with just a hint of disgust. “Well, I do eat fish,” I tell them apologetically, as if to save myself from being totally shunned. “I’m not a vegetarian.”

Vegetarianism is considered an exotic illness here, while the word “vegan” is almost completely unknown.

In case you think I am exaggerating, my neighbour recently asked if I would take part in one of her market research surveys.

“Dany, do you fancy doing a prosciutto cotto tasting?” Prosciutto cotto is cooked ham.

“Gabriella,” I smiled, “I do not eat meat, remember?” She looked at me genuinely nonplussed: “But it is not meat, it is prosciutto cotto.” My smile burst into a laugh.

Going to a traditional restaurant (or trattoria) is an amusing experience too.

I always know what I am going to have – tagliatelle with mushrooms. It is not because I have a passion for tagliatelle with mushrooms, it’s just that I know it will be the only meatless dish on the menu. OK, there are ricotta-filled tortelloni, but I’m not that partial to them.

Unlike ordinary locals, waiting staff barely flinch when I utter my near sacrilegious phrase: “I do not eat meat.” Determined to appear unfazed, they chirp “no problem”.

Then follows a script I’ve heard so many times I laugh before the punchline. Firstly they say “no meat but a bit of affettati misti, si?” I explain that cold cuts are meat, even if the slices do not look like the original animal.

Then they tell me plenty of their pasta dishes are vegetarian.

“We have home-made tortellini,” they beam. I explain that, even though you cannot see it, the meat stuffing inside those tiny pasta packages nevertheless exists.

But my favourite is when they tell me they have a delicious vegetable sauce.

“It is made with peas and onions. Well, there is a spot of bacon too, but just a tiny bit – you cannot even taste it.” That is when I stifle a chuckle and order my tagliatelle with mushrooms.

Main courses are much more straightforward. There’s absolutely nothing.

Even if they list 10 options, they’ll all once upon a time have had legs. Nowadays, I don’t even ask, I just get a side order of grilled vegetables because, chances are, the potatoes are roasted in lard.

And now Emilians are glorying in the meaty treats they got in their Christmas hampers.

There is cotechino – a huge sausage they boil and serve with lentils on New Year’s Eve. Then there is zampone – similar but stuffed into a pig’s trotter.

It is a speciality of Castelnuovo Rangone – a little town near Modena which once had more pigs than people.

Every winter they hold SuperZampone, a festival where local sausage makers try to break their own world record for the largest zampone ever.

Yes, you may have guessed – it is the town with the pig monument in the piazza. Right in front of the church, much to the priest’s indignation.

He must be a vegetarian.

First published BBC News Online Magazine 14 January 2014
https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-20970092

The post Where vegetarianism is an exotic illness appeared first on Danielle Mitzman.

I love going to Slow Food’s incredible events but my favourite is Cheese because it takes place in Bra, the beautiful little hilltown where the Slow Food movement was born. 

At this edition of Cheese, I made a feature on using (sometimes unusual) leftover products to make sustainable gelato.

Originally published on Radio DW 18/10/2019
https://www.dw.com/en/inside-europe-gelato-with-a-sustainable-difference/audio-50872026

The post Gelato with a sustainable difference appeared first on Danielle Mitzman.

Originally published on Radio DW 10 September 2012
https://www.dw.com/en/a-dollop-of-gelato-science/audio-16230314

The post Gelato Science appeared first on Danielle Mitzman.

I confess, I stole this title from the Slow Food website. But it was so brilliant, I couldn’t help myself.

If you usually buy your cheese in slices, plastic casing or foil-wrapped triangles, you’d be truly overwhelmed by a visit to Slow Food’s biennial festival: Cheese.

Located in Bra, in the north west Italian region of Piedmont, the 4-day event takes over the entire hill town. Huge marquees in the piazzas and hundreds of stands lining the streets offer visitors the chance to taste and buy a vast selection of cheeses produced by more than 300 artisan cheese-makers from every corner of the globe.

I was there to sample some of the weirdest varieties on offer…

(First broadcast on Inside Europe, Deutsche Welle Radio, 24 March 2016)

Link to original episode – 24 March 2016

The post No Whey! appeared first on Danielle Mitzman.

Yoko Sudo is a 32 year old farmer. She’s the leader of the Fukushima branch of the Slow Food movement. Slow Food is a non-profit organization with members throughout the world. It was set up to counter the fast food culture and protect biodiversity, food cultures and traditions, and sustainable eco-friendly practices.

After the earthquake and tsunami of 2011, Yoko’s world completely fell apart with the ensuing meltdown at the Fukushima Daiichi power plant.

98% of Japan’s rice has now been declared free of nuclear contamination, crucial for their rice-based diet and the saké tradition, for example. But for many farmers in the area nearest to the nuclear reactors, the situation is still critical. Most are uncertain about the future.

Yoko told me about what she used to have, what she has lost, and what she hopes to salvage of the land she still loves.

(First broadcast on Living Planet, Deutsche Welle Radio, January 3rd 2013. Rebroadcast for International Women’s Day and the anniversary of the Fukushima nuclear disaster)

Link to original episode – Radio DW Living Planet 03/01/2013

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In France they’re known as vignerons , in Italy as vignaioli: small-scale wine producers who do everything from growing and harvesting the grapes to transforming them into wine in their cellars, then bottling and selling it. Their estates are usually small and picturesque, and their wines are made according to local traditions and respect for nature and the environment.

But, throughout Europe, the future of these winemakers is under threat for a variety of reasons, not least a huge drop in the price of grapes and demand for good quality wines. The large export markets for European wines in the UK and USA have collapsed as a result of the global economic crisis and many consumers are now opting for the cheapest, industrially produced wines.

In an attempt to address their problems and come up with some common solutions, the Slow Food organization invited winemakers from across the continent to participate in Vignerons d’Europe. Over 700 producers from 16 different countries attended the meeting last weekend in Tuscany. Dany Mitzman went along to meet them.

(first broadcast on European Business Week, Deutsche Welle Radio, 12th December, 2009)

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