“A San Martino ogni mosto e vino” (At Saint Martin’s, every must becomes wine) goes a popular saying, but in our country, a land of magnificent grapes and fine wines, the must obtained from pressing the berries has not always ended up fermenting in vats.

In Emilia, for centuries, it has been transformed into traditional balsamic vinegar of Modena, precisely the kind that Acetaia Guerzoni produces with excellent quality and in many varieties. This vinegar is obtained exclusively from the aging of cooked must, primarily derived from Lambrusco and Trebbiano grapes, creating one of Italy’s most refined and globally appreciated products.

The list of traditions across various Italian regions is quite long, with cooked must among their culinary delights—a thick, dark liquid that has nourished, healed, and delighted generations for centuries.

I vividly remember my grandmother, who, in September in Puglia, would have local farmers bring her a few liters of freshly pressed must to turn it into precious “dark gold.” She would pour it into a large tin-plated copper pot, filtering it through a clean, worn linen cloth to capture any impurities from the pressing.

The must had to be fresh and used within a day, or it would begin to ferment and could no longer be transformed. The pot was placed on a burner in the middle of the room, connected to a gas cylinder, and the slow transformation process began, lasting several hours. The flame had to be kept low to avoid burning the precious nectar, and about 10 liters of must would yield approximately 4 liters of cooked must.

After about two hours of boiling, my grandmother would prepare homemade egg pasta, cutting thick strips that were cooked directly in the must. This was the first sweet dish made. Even "reginette" pasta worked well—I liked them best because they remained slightly undercooked but very sweet.

After about three hours, the liquid darkened and thickened. Grandma Ida would take a spoonful and place it on a small plate, drawing a line through it with the spoon. If the two halves did not merge back together, it meant the viscosity was perfect.

While still warm, it was poured into glass bottles, labeled in shaky handwriting by someone who barely knew how to write, and stored in the dark. It would be used for desserts during the Feast of the Dead, Christmas sweets, or, if it snowed, my father would climb onto the rooftops to collect clean snow, which we would mix with cooked must, making a simple but delicious granita.

Similar memories surely come from other regions, as must is made in many rural areas of Italy and appears in various traditional recipes.

Cooked must-based desserts are especially common in central and southern Italy, but they also exist in the north. In Campania, "Mostaccioli" are traditional—soft must-based biscuits coated in chocolate. In Abruzzo and Puglia, "Nevole" or "Cartellate" are prepared—flower-shaped rolled wafers, fried and sweetened with must and cinnamon. As I mentioned, in Puglia, for the Feast of the Dead, "Pupurati" are made—cookies with cocoa, cooked must, and dried fruits. It is also a key ingredient in Christmas sweets from Calabria and Sicily, such as "turdilli," "pitta 'nchiusa," and "sanguinaccio."

Naturally, the sweetness of cooked must pairs wonderfully with aged cheeses. In Romagna, it is often accompanied by "Savor," and in Piedmont by "Cugnà," preserves made with cooked must, fruit, and spices.

Modern culinary arts often pair it with cheeses, meats, fish, ice cream, or desserts. I often prepare an ancient, simple Puglian dessert for my guests—"Grano di San Donato"—made with boiled wheat, cooked must, walnuts, pomegranates, and cinnamon. Everyone appreciates its simplicity and fragrance.

Now, let’s talk about its nutritional and health benefits. Cooked must is rich in antioxidants and polyphenols, which fight cell aging and free radicals. It is a natural energy source due to its simple sugars and contains magnesium, which helps combat depression and regulate digestion.

So, don’t hesitate to use it in both cooking and health remedies, rediscovering an ancient, humble product tied to peasant culture, perfectly suited to modern nutritional needs. It balances tradition with innovation, blending history, wellness, and experimentation. Acetaia Guerzoni produces and distributes it under the name SABA—add it to your dishes or enjoy a teaspoon after dinner as a tonic, and you’ll feel instantly satisfied and delighted.

Mara Antonaccio