3 vintage gelaterias in Polignano
40 years of gelato and places that stubbornly resist the passage of time. Plus another 3 addresses on where to drink and eat in Polignano.
I've been eating gelato in Polignano since I was little. In my childhood memories of the 80s, there was obviously Mario Campanella, the Gelato Super Magician (Super Mago del Gelo), who had his shop at the foot of the sixteenth-century walls of the town. A tiny and magical place, which to me resembled a surrealistic aquarium.
From the ceiling hung papier-mâché animals - tyrannosaurs and flying pterodactyls - blowfish, seahorses, and shells, torn from the depths of the sea. And then, shiny and solitary, a disco ball, spinning perpetually, reflecting flashes of rainbow light on the walls of the gelateria.
On the wall in the back, a painting with two mermaids emerging from the waves of the sea to sunbathe on the beach of Lama Monachile (the same beach that made Polignano famous worldwide).
On the other walls, photos of Mario Campanella with the stars of the 60s-70s: Monica Vitti, Domenico Modugno, Alberto Sordi, smiling in black and white at the customers.
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In the picture, Monica Vitti, the goddess, with Mario Campanella (left), 1968, during the filming of the movie Girl with a gun, by Mario Monicelli. Copyright: Anastasia Campanella
Behind the counter, Mario Campanella served gelato, with his white pastry uniform, slicked-back hair, and elegant, precise movements.
If the place was very baroque - almost kitschy - the gelato flavors were few and essential: chocolate, pistachio, hazelnut. Sometimes there was strawberry or banana. Choosing was easy: with or without whipped cream?
I always chose chocolate and whipped cream. I would leave the gelateria, descending the steps, and eat it next to the fountain in the square.
More than eating, I would savor it. I was objectively slow, but I did wanted to enjoy it slowly. I didn't want it to ever end. The gelato was soft, buttery, and creamy and melted easily. As a result, once finished, my face, clothes, and even my socks were a battlefield, with chocolate stains literally everywhere. But I was happy because I had a memorable experience.
Baby Flavia and her dress after eating the gelato
On the other side of the square, was Mario Campanella's brother: Donato Campanella, famous for his granita.
These were my father's passion, who, under the pretext that they were refreshing (just ice, sugar, and fruit, right?), would eat three in a row. Our favorites were those of "fioroni" (a kind of premature fig) and those with red mulberries (which would tattoo your hands blood red). My mother, on the other hand, would have apricot or watermelon.
Life was simple between the 80s and 90s: gelato from Mario Campanella and granita from Donato Campanella (now by Pietro and Martino, who took over the bar upon Donato's death).
The counter of Martino and Pietro (the former bar of Donato Campanella)
Then I discovered Bar Turismo, and there was no turning back.
The gelato maker on Via Pompeo Sarnelli, with a minimal style, with a steel counter and on the walls photos of the rough seas of Polignano, with giant waves crashing against the cliffs. Behind the bar, the assortment of liqueurs and digestives: Strega, San Marzano, Zabov, Amaro Lucano.
And then, of course, the gelato counter: pistachio, chocolate, hazelnut and bacio (kiss). My choice always fell on the bacio (a three-dimensional hazelnut and gianduia gelato, with whole hazelnuts that crackled crisply under the teeth), covered with coffee whipped cream.
(Bar Turismo, Via Pompeo Sarnelli, 7, Polignano a Mare)
Bar Turismo’s hazelnut gelato
After the 2000s, my desire to travel took me far from Polignano and its gelato, but now that I have returned, I am pleased to rediscover the places of my childhood that, in one way or another, resist change, in a somewhat stubborn and nostalgic way.
With their steel and marble counters, shiny and lived-in, on which millions of coffee saucers have slid, billions of sugar grains have fallen, and torrential rains of gelato droplets have poured.
A resistance to the impersonal total white that reigns in modern bars, white, shiny, and with fewer stories to tell.
Meanwhile, the gelateria of Mario Campanella moved to a larger venue, in front of the entrance to the Arco Marchesale by the old town.
The dinosaurs are no longer there - like Mario, by the way - and even the photos are faded, but the disco ball is still there, spinning on the ceiling, surmounted by a tropical parrot. The prices are still quite popular: coffee still costs one euro and breakfast is two euros and 40 cents (for a cappuccino and a croissant). The croissants are fragrant and not too heavy (although industrial), and they are always lukewarm, served with a little powdered sugar.
Mario Campanella’s new bar
And then there's the special coffee (caffè speciale), invented right here: a kind of perfectly balanced corrected coffee. On one side the bitterness of coffee and Amaretto di Saronno, on the other the sweetness and roundness of the cream, then the freshness and balsamic aromas of the lemon zest that refreshes the palate.
This gelateria is a seaside port where people come and go in continuous movement and there's always a bit of music from the sixties playing in the background.
(Il Super Mago del Gelo Mario Campanella, Piazza Giuseppe Garibaldi 22, Polignano a Mare).
Caffè speciale by night
The gelato from Bar Turismo is still the best, even though what I observe is the parable of a solitary artisan with a rough character who, as he ages, cannot keep up with his shop as before.
Usually taciturn, some time ago he told me about the difficulty of being alone in running the bar (from daily gelato preparation to service to sales). Time passes and an assistant is not found, but above all, what is missing is someone capable of taking up his legacy.
The gelato flavors are still handwritten, but the marker stroke is increasingly uncertain and shaky. Bar Turismo remains a magical place, untouched, maintaining its retro furnishings (from the counter to the gelato machines) and casual service.
Bar Turismo’s ice cream counter
Lately, my passion has been Pietro and Martino's coffee spongato. A coffee granita worked until it becomes silky, served in a glass cup and enclosed, above and below, by two layers of thick, white, compact cream, poured strictly with a wooden spoon.
A cold cappuccino, a cuddle made with great care, the kind that comes from years of service, from those who have prepared it thousands of times and could serve it even with their eyes closed. Simple perfection in execution.
(Gelateria Pietro & Martino, Piazza Giuseppe Garibaldi, Polignano a Mare).
Spongato by Pietro and Martino
Me, by the same fountain of the picture above, 40 years later.
Before saying goodbye, I want to close this story with a carnet of addresses that I am sure you will like.
When I don't have breakfast at home, you'll find me at Gas Bar by Antonella and Giuseppe.
Between a Lucio Dalla song and a piece by Erykah Badu (the record player with vinyl is always ready to play), sipping a cappuccino (or an espressino, as the cortado is called in Puglia) is always a pleasure. It's a bright, welcoming place, where dogs and children are welcome with crayons, markers, and drawing paper. Headquarters of Libro Possibile (the literature festival that has been welcoming writers and thinkers from all over Italy for over 22 years), the bar is a place to dedicate oneself to reading, while enjoying an aperitif with a glass of Triple A wine (Farmers, Artisans, Artists), from synergistic agriculture.
The pergola outside, shaded by a thick bougainvillea, is the favorite meeting place of the old sailors of the town, sitting on the benches basking in the sun, with their woolen caps and curved sticks.
(Gas Bar, Piazza caduti Via Fani, Polignano a Mare)
When Liu and Fabrizio opened their bistro - Mint Cucina Fresca - in the heart of the historic center of Polignano in 2013, I was there to toast with them with a very elegant elderflower spritz (still their signature cocktail).
A place of the soul, the result of Liu's work, a Brazilian designer and architect with a unique talent for finding antique pieces and combining them harmoniously, and Fabrizio, a Trentino-born pastry chef who, in a tiny kitchen, prepares vegetable quiches, very fresh legume and herb salads, refined and balanced fish dishes, as well as a raw cheesecake made with ricotta, served with a passion fruit sauce to die for.
It's no coincidence that two of Fabrizio's desserts - sacher and bread cake - ended up in my book "Eat different. Creative recipes for those who eat differently", Feltrinelli/Gribaudo 2014.
(Mint Cucina Fresca, Via S. Benedetto, 32, Polignano a Mare).
The interior design and the octopus with fen (mountain herbs, confit cherry tomatoes, served on fava beans purée
Last but not least, Ruz cucina confidenziale. In the name, a play on words echoing roots and a tribute to Anthony Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential (which, not by chance, is featured in the small collection of books on the shelf at the entrance of the osteria).
On the menu, on one side the comfort food of the grandmother (breadballs scented with cheese and basil, eggplant parmigiana, and peasant foods like mashed fava beans and chicory or fried "lampascioni" - our bitter wild onions); on the other hand, a more contemporary cuisine that reuses Apulian raw materials (the podolica beef from Gargano, the PDO Altamura bread, and the local catch, the multicolored carrot from San Vito - yellow, orange, purple). A food that knows how to be slow even when winking at fast food, with burgers and buns handmade, baked every day.
Every meal ends with a cup of "monk's mantle color" coffee (as defined by the Neapolitan playwright Edoardo De Filippo), prepared in the Bialetti moka and a piece of chocolate salami dessert, which takes us straight back, as at the beginning of this story, to the end of the 80s.
(Ruz cucina confidenziale, Via Roma, 75, Polignano a Mare).