We first met Angelo Coluccia some years ago – perhaps seven, maybe eight years hence. And unlike the majority of our Italian friends, we did not discover him. Rather, he found us in his research on Italian specialty shops in the U.S. At the time this young man from Puglia, Italy’s southern region known as “the heel of the boot” was in the business of promoting food and wine from his native Puglia and, more specifically, from his home town of Gioia del Colle. We responded to his forthright email offering to introduce us to the treasures of Puglia and a friendship was born.

This week we were introduced to the love of his life, Maria Carmela, and attended our first Italian wedding.

This was our fourth or fifth visit to Puglia, a region of Italy that continues to strike us as a land of contradictions and surprises. Traditionally a region of poverty it is rich in so many ways, from its bounteous fields (Puglia produces more grapes, wheat and olives than any other region and the town of Andria itself produces more olive oil than all of Tuscany) to its seaside resorts to it its tidy and surprisingly modern towns to its storied history. And while Suzy and I have been working diligently over the past six years developing a network of friends and connections to fuel our business of Experience Umbria, Angelo has simply had to look inside to offer his own counterpart – Experience Puglia.

It was Angelo who introduced us to Puglia and through Angelo that we have made friends with Filippo Mancino, who runs his family’s olive oil business and who is so ingrained in this community that it is impossible to walk down the street with him without having people wave to him or stop and chat. It was Angelo who introduced us to Gianni Zullo and his Primitivo wine, teaching us an appreciation for the indigenous grape and the pride that surrounds it, correcting us when we described primitivo to our friends “as the same grape as zinfandel” by noting that “zinfandel is genetically the same grape as primitivo,” and backing up its lineage with reference to monastic records in Gioia del Colle that trace its history in his home town centuries ago, long before California vintners even settled the Golden State. It was Angelo who invited us into his home to meet his family and to share lunch with them. It was Angelo who invited us to his wedding to share his joy. Joy in Gioia.

I am not going to write a lengthy tome on Italian weddings, their cultural significance and how they differ from American weddings. With only one data point it would be presumptuous even for me to make such sweeping generalizations (although such things are typically precisely my modus operandi). I do feel fully confident to make one observation about Italian weddings, however. They are fun. They are completely awesome (to overwork a tired expression that in this case fits perfectly) and if you ever have an opportunity to attend an Italian wedding, do.

It doesn’t matter if you can’t speak the language. Italians speak with their hands but even more with their eyes. And if you keep a smile on your face the entire day, which is not difficult, you will communicate plenty. And bring a big appetite because you will eat all day long, which also helps keep that smile on your face. And be sure to watch and observe, to preserve memories of what others are experiencing, because while an Italian wedding reception is a celebration of the bride and groom it is an experience for the entire community of friends, colleagues and family.

In America you often hear the expression “God, Family, Country” thrown around, particularly around election time by people who seemingly care about none of the above. But in my eyes, the entire wedding day – from the wedding ceremony that featured more sitting down and standing up than you’d find in a hemorrhoids ward to the reception that stretched on for nearly eight hours so that we could allocate all the food eaten to two separate meals – was a study in God, family and to a lesser extent, country.

One of the striking things about Angelo’s wedding was watching the families. In church children sat with parents and parents sat with their parents, the youngest mostly squirming in the laps of mamma, occasionally clasping her neck and often kissing. A particularly memorable moment was when a woman with an adorable and beautifully dressed daughter of perhaps seven or eight years rose and walked to the altar, leaving her daughter behind to read some comments she had prepared about the nature of love. The address was well received, so much so that the congregation broke into applause at the end (the only such time during the service) and when the mother returned to her seat two rows in front of us her adoring daughter gave her a memorable hug and kisses, lasting for well over a minute. Well done, mamma. I’m so proud of you.

The reception took place at an impeccably beautiful manor, the Relais il Santissimo about twenty minutes from Gioia, if you actually know where you’re going. For us it was more like three quarters of an hour and about a gallon of perspiration away. The relais was nothing short of spectacular, from the moment we turned down the tree lined stone drive. Looking like a cross between a French chateau and a Puglian masseria, it featured numerous indoor spaces where aperitivi were served and dinner was held and dancing ensued, as well as several beautiful outdoor terraces, a central courtyard and manicured gardens to wander between courses.

A short while after arriving and the perspiration had dried, aperitifs were served, with dozens of tables set with small sandwiches, pastries, meats, cheeses, seafood of all sorts cooked and raw. Outside in the courtyard tables were set up along side two enormous carts that were preparing and serving fried delicacies, my favorite being sublimely delicate fried shrimps as well as fried vegetables and sage leafs. An hour or so into the reception and I had already eaten enough to qualify as a small meal.

We were then invited to have our picture taken with Angelo and Maria Carmela, which everyone did, to be surprised and honored just before departing with a copy. A most memorable souvenir of a wonderful day.

And then the reception began. We were led into the main reception room, a spacious ballroom with dozens of beautifully set tables and proceeded to be alternately stuffed with course after course of delicious dishes served by superior staff decked out in uniforms complete with white gloves and to escape the table to work up an appetite for the next course. The menu may give some idea of the avalanche of food that made its way down our throats and directly onto our hips:

Carpaccio of red tuna
Sword fish with caviar
Timbale of calamari
Marinated salmon tartare
Capocollo
Caciotta cheese stuffed with olives
Cavatelli pasta with seafood and fava puree
Crudites (with Filippo delivering a bottle of his orange infused olive oil to our table to enjoy them with)
Truffle pasta
Swordfish wrapped in leek with mazzancolle shrimp
An endless array of sweets
Wedding cake

Between each course there was the dancing. And the dancing was joyous, perhaps because guests were really into the occasion or perhaps because it was an opportunity to work off the previous dishes and make room for more food. But whatever the reason it was truly special just to be able to take in the smiles on the faces, the sight of little boys and girls being urged to overcome their shyness and to dance with each other, grandfathers tangoing with their granddaughters, groups of friends huddled in tight circles throwing their heads in the air, overcome with laughter. There was wine flowing throughout the evening but there was no intoxication other than the intoxication of the atmosphere and pure joy that bound everyone in the room together.

And there were Angelo and Maria Carmela. She in her beautiful gown and he looking dapper in his tux. The two radiated such happiness you would have thought they had just got married. Which they had. But what was clear from that intangible spirit in the room was that they were not just happy for themselves. Their happiness was more than just the sum of their two happinesses. Theirs was a joy that came from sharing their joy with everyone at the church that morning and at the relais that afternoon and into the Puglian night. And, if you will forgive me for making another sweeping generalization, that may just be the magic of an Italian wedding.

Ci vediamo!
Bill and Suzy