Alba Pratichizzo

Grandma's sideboard was made of light wood, the yellow glass cabinets shook every time she opened them. In a handmade basket there were sweets: Rossana and galatine, but the toffees were my favorite even if they stuck to the teeth. And there, among the plates of the good service and the cups taken with the points of the milk, grandmother kept the provisions: jars of peeled tomatoes vacuum-packed since September, sugar and coffee, half-crumbled biscuits in Snoopy's glass container, bunches of oregano dried upside down. Cooking with her was a ritual for me as a child. Taking rosemary and basil directly from the plants in the garden, watching the pizza dough rise under the white cloth, tasting the artichoke filling directly from the bowl, small gestures that keep a magical something for me. I have always considered the kitchen a sacred space. A place where magic happens. Healthy and natural ingredients from my childhood, which nowadays are difficult to recover. In this column we will once again open the grandmother's pantry in search of genuine ingredients. Each time we will discover the characteristics of each food, and its properties that will become allies of our body. Put on the apron and polish the ladles, let's start discovering the organic.