With deft flicks of the wrist, Nunzia Caputo cuts small chunks off the
  end of a sausage-shaped roll of fresh pasta dough, squishes each of
  them into a distinctive hollow shape with her thumb and sends them
  skittering across a flour-covered wooden tabletop.

  Gregarious and with a big smile, she is the best known of the “pasta
  grannies”, women who spend their days making a type of homemade pasta
  called orecchiette, Italian for “little ears”, in the labyrinth of
  narrow alleyways that make up the old town of Bari, a historic port in
  the south of [1]Italy.

  “Semolina, water and lots of love – these are the only ingredients, and
  this is our tradition,” she said, sitting at her kitchen table with a
  granddaughter who is equally adept at making the ear-shaped morsels.

  The pasta-producing women of Bari have become a tourist attraction in
  recent years, embodying a classic Italian combination of good food,
  gastronomic tradition and joie-de-vivre that proves irresistible to
  legions of visitors and cruise ship passengers who eagerly buy their
  bags of [2]pasta.

  But the close-knit world of the pasta grannies has been convulsed of
  late by allegations that some of them are covertly buying
  factory-produced orecchiette, divvying it up into little sacks and
  passing it off as homemade.

  The subterfuge began to unravel when white cardboard boxes that had
  contained commercially made pasta were found dumped in wheelie bins on
  the outskirts of the old town.

  No one has been named, at least publicly, but beneath the ancient stone
  arches and wrought iron balconies of Bari Vecchia – the old town of
  Bari – there are dark mutterings that a few women got greedy.

  The scandal has, inevitably, been dubbed “Orecchiette Gate”.

  A 55-year-old pasta maker said: “Some of the women have been selling
  the commercially made stuff.”

  “They shouldn’t have done it and now it’s given us all a bad name. My
  grandmother taught me to make orecchiette when I was five. If you are
  from here, if you come from this tradition, then you need to be honest,
  transparent,” she said outside the tiny home she shares with her
  89-year-old mother in a whitewashed courtyard deep in the heart of the
  old town.

  In response to the allegations, the authorities have decided to act.

  A pasta maker selling her pasta produce in Via Arco Basso in the old
  town

  A pasta maker selling her pasta produce in Via Arco Basso in the old
  town - Chris Warde-Jones

  They are introducing tough new rules and regulations for the pasta
  grannies, many of whom congregate along Via dell’Arco Basso – the
  street of the low arch – an alleyway close to Bari’s imposing
  1,000-year-old castle.

  There will be regular health and hygiene checks on their homes. They
  will also have to wear hair nets and, if they have long fingernails,
  rubber gloves. They will have to buy new fridges in which to keep their
  pasta products, separate from the fridges that they keep their food in.

  Cooking utensils and surfaces will need to be disinfected and kept
  squeaky clean. They will have to attend a four-hour course which will
  earn them a food safety certificate.

  Officials are compiling a map and a register of all the women who sell
  homemade pasta in the winding alleys of the old town.

Stamp of authenticity

  Most important of all, they plan to introduce a stamp of authenticity,
  similar to those used for regional specialities such as wine and
  cheese, to guarantee to tourists that the pasta is homemade.

  Pietro Petruzzelli, the city councillor in charge of economic
  development and tourism, said: “They’re small changes and they won’t
  cost the ladies much to adopt.

  “We want to maintain the tradition of orecchiette making but at the
  same time make sure they are respecting the rules.”

  Controversially, the women will no longer be allowed to make pasta
  outdoors, sitting at tables, chatting to each other in impenetrable
  local dialect, and displaying it on wooden trays.

  Instead, they will have to make the orecchiette in their tiny, cramped
  kitchens, where it will be protected from dust, flies, bird droppings
  and everything else the environment can fling at. Their front doorways
  will have to be covered with fly nets or curtains.

  The new rules have gone down like a plate of congealed carbonara. A
  meeting was held on Dec 10 between the pasta women and council
  officials but quickly deteriorated into a shouting match as the
  grannies protested against the rigorous new regime.

  Pasta makers met with Pietro Petruzzelli, the tourism and economic
  development city councillor, to discuss the new rules

  Pasta makers met with Pietro Petruzzelli, the tourism and economic
  development city councillor, to discuss the new rules - Chris
  Warde-Jones

  Mrs Caputo said: “We can’t work indoors because our kitchens are too
  small.

  “In the summer, we’ll die of heat. We have to work outside.”

  Bari, one of Italy’s southernmost cities, sweltered in temperatures of
  42C this summer.

  Teresa, a pasta maker in her seventies, said: “If they continue with
  all these demands, insisting we conform to the regulations, I’ll just
  pack up and stop work.”

  But health officials are adamant and say it is too risky from a hygiene
  point of view – the women can no longer knead and pinch pasta dough in
  the street.

  An official from the regional health authority said: “How many times
  have we read about a wedding where all the guests are rushed to
  hospital because of food that wasn’t kept properly?”

  The whole business has proved so contentious that even the Catholic
  Church has got involved.

  Father Franco Lanzolla, the parish priest from the Romanesque Cathedral
  of San Sabino, has stepped in to act as a mediator, treading a delicate
  line between the authorities and the pasta women. The raucous meeting
  was held in a room adjacent to the cathedral.

  He says there is more at stake than just a few women making pasta in
  their cramped kitchens. “There’s a lot of unemployment here. Without
  work, there are many young people who can be tempted into criminality.
  But if there is work, you can give them hope, a future, self-esteem.”

Booming tourism in Bari

  The “pastaie” or female pasta producers have become a symbol of Bari,
  which is undergoing a [3]tourist boom.

  [4]Jamie Oliver featured them in one of his cookbooks and Dolce &
  Gabbana shot a commercial featuring some of the women with the
  lingerie-clad daughters of Sylvester Stallone, whose family originates
  from Puglia.

  Mrs Caputo has 60,000 followers on her Instagram account, Le
  Orecchiette di Nunzia.

  “Nunzia has become a superstar,” said Anna, a local tour guide. “She
  went to Brazil once and was practically treated like the Pope.” In
  November, she met the real pontiff, shaking hands with Pope Francis at
  an audience in the Vatican and giving him some orecchiette as a gift.

  Among the tourists taking photos of the pasta grannies in Via dell’Arco
  Basso was Ophelie Stoeckli, 28, from Lausanne, who was visiting with
  her sister and mother.

  “I had heard about the pasta ladies – I saw them on TikTok and
  Instagram and I wanted to come and see them,” she said.

Growing demand for homemade pasta

  The reason why some of the pasta grannies were tempted into food fraud,
  selling commercial pasta that they pretended was their own, lies in the
  growing popularity of Bari as a destination.

  As the number of tourists increased, so too did the demand for the
  pasta grannies’ products.

  Francesco Petruzzelli, a local journalist who has covered the scandal
  in depth, said: “With so many tourists visiting, the ladies couldn’t
  keep up with demand.

  “It’s hard work – it takes an hour to make a kilo of orecchiette and
  you need strong arms to knead the dough. That’s why they started buying
  commercial pasta and pretending it was their own. Tourists don’t know
  any better – they can’t distinguish between homemade pasta and the
  factory stuff.”

  Mr Petruzzelli, the city councillor in charge of tourism, is adamant
  that the days of flogging commercial pasta masquerading as home-made
  pasta are over.

  But he is most anxious to preserve the way of life of the pasta
  grannies.

  “The risk for a place like Bari, where tourism growth is in double
  figures, is gentrification. The pasta ladies can be an antidote to
  that. If they stopped work and moved out, their homes would become
  Airbnb apartments. Bari would lose some of its soul.”

  [5]Broaden your horizons with award-winning British journalism. Try The
  Telegraph free for 3 months with unlimited access to our award-winning
  website, exclusive app, money-saving offers and more.

References

  1. https://www.telegraph.co.uk/italy/
  2. https://www.telegraph.co.uk/pasta/
  3. https://www.telegraph.co.uk/world-news/2024/12/12/rome-anti-tourism-protest/
  4. https://www.telegraph.co.uk/jamie-oliver/
  5. https://secure.telegraph.co.uk/customer/subscribe/3months/?WT.mc_id=tmg_yahoo_subsoffers_-Yahoo&utm_source=tmgoff&utm_medium=tmg_yahoo&utm_content=subsoffers_&utm_campaign=tmg_yahoo_subsoffers_-Yahoo