Michele must have been confused why we had driven back and forth along a road, which would eventually lead to a dead end. After watching us for a few wrong turns he waved us over. His eyes really are that piercing. After chuckling out some throaty Italian instructions we drove off more confused than before. We stopped shortly after so I could run back and grab a portrait. He was proud to be asked and threw down his staff behind him ceremoniously.
Daniele worked at a restaurant in Castelmezzano. He was keen to tell us about himself and the magical town.
This man made the best pizza I have ever eaten. "The secret is love!"
Fabrizio spoke slowly and deliberately, handing out nuggets of Matera's history with the same thoughtful discipline as the many courses of local food he delivered.
Paula designed her parent's masseria while still an architectural student in Rome. The light, modern space respects the bones of the old stable that once stood there.
After smiling for my photo, Francesca ushered us into her house. The first room is a small dark kitchen filled with trays of drying pasta, bags of biscuits and jars of sauce.