When I was a child, I was almost every day at the home of my Aunt, my Father's older sister who lived with my Grandmother Clelia and Grandfather Carmine.
Miss Imperia, now almost 90 years old, is a woman all of a piece, an extraordinary mix of rules, good manners and tenderness.
Describing her is very difficult, my aunt is the epitome of the women of the past. Hers is a special kind: maternal love without ever having been a mother, therefore free from too many contaminations, free from the involuntary mistake that is often made when you have children, that of being able to spoil them in some way.
Aunt Imperia is permissive but strict, she is sweet but at the same time detached, she is generous but thoughtful.
She is always many things but never none, she is never predictable, she hardly ever makes mistakes. She has little vision now, but she always sees very, very far.
She is a magician in the kitchen: her doughnuts, her shepherdesses, her struffoli and everything else that has passed through her hands is known throughout Cilento and probably also throughout Europe.
Once I was at her place, and obligatorily passing through her small kitchen in search of something good, I came across a small pot with some artichokes warmed inside with potatoes.
The potatoes had practically reduced to a cream, while the artichokes were tender but still quite crispy and a drizzle of oil with a fried chilli on top.
A good, good thing. An ancient flavour but one that has come down to this day.
This pizza is the memory of a cream of potato with artichokes and a pepperoni made by my aunt, called sympathetically by us family and those who know her, La Volpe.
Ingredients
Creamed potatoes with a hint of turmeric
Crispy, browned and fried artichokes,
Michelangelo Marsicani AlterEgo extra virgin olive oil,
In exit peperone crusco di Senise IGP,
or alternatively ,
Capocollo di Casa Tomeo
