Prior to the Third Punic War, Cato the Elder, the famous Roman Senator, spiced every speech he delivered with the passionate proclamation- Carthago delenda est - Carthage must be destroyed.
The history of how I came into possession of the recipe for The Punic War Sauce which fed the Roman Legions conquering Carthage is fascinating.
It is a story of serendipity; a story of good men doing their duty; a story about a surprising blessing from Heaven.
My Italian Uncle, Father Giovanni Giuseppe Antinori, was studying Religion and Renaissance Art in Florence in the late 1930s. During a break from his studies, my Uncle was invited to spend the weekend with friends at the rustic and romantic Fonte de Medici in the beautiful Borgo Santa Maria a Macerata farmhouse in San Casino Val di Pesa.
Attending a fantastic dinner there with other interesting and erudite guests, my Uncle was introduced to a mysterious gentleman known only by the name, Angelo, the messenger, a Rare Book Dealer.
Angelo's Mother, my Uncle leaned that evening, was dying of cancer; "Please, Father Giovanni, say a Mass for my Mother."
My Uncle did say a Mass for Angelo's Mother.
Her recovery, Doctors said, was a miracle. It was not to be doubted. Angelo tried to give my Uncle astonishing amounts of money. He refused; "I was fulfilling my vocation. I was only doing my duty."
Angelo had been born in the hills near that small town near Florence, He was one of six children and his family owned chickens, goats, sheep and even a cow and they grew tomatoes, eggplants, peppers, grapes and they made their own bread, cheese and wine.
Locals there acknowledge but never discuss the unspeakable tragedy which befell the family at the hands of unknown assailants for unknown reasons. Only Angelo and his Mother survived the attack.
Angelo devoted his life to caring for his Mother. A lifelong celibate and daily communicant, he walked with a limp and used a cane. About 5' 6" but with his warm smile, giant intellect and kindness, most thought he was much taller than he really was.
His eyes were an impossible blue which the locals attributed to the purity of his soul.
Prior to the savage and evil attack, Angelo had fallen deeply in love with a local girl Donata (Gift from God) and he had planned to confess his love for her the very weekend of the attack.
Following the unspeakable tragedy, Angelo vowed to serve God by serving his Mother and he renounced all desire he had for the beautiful Donata.
He threw himself into work, study and sanctification.
Donata married a friend of Angelo's and settled in the same town. She never really understood Angelo's solicitousness for her and her family and the many kindnesses he showed her children nor could she have even understood (had she learned) of the purity of his charity which was the basis for the countless times he, unseen by anyone, left gifts of bread, wine and cheese, in a basket on her doorstep.
Angelo educated himself through the Mass, The Bible, the writings of the Saints, and the many conversations he had with the Priests in Florence.
Angelo loved to cook. After his Mother went to bed he would sit in the garden reading, sipping wine and smoking a cigar.
He loved Opera and Vivaldi and while he sometimes grew weary of Opera, he could listen to Vivaldi unceasingly.
Sometimes, when friends came by to visit, while they were still on the doorstep, they would halt before knocking so Angelo could finish singing Panis Angelicus as he kneaded Ciabatta.
My Uncle returned to the United States and he and Angelo corresponded regularly. However, after a few years, the letters ceased. Nearly two decades passed.
One day, in the early 1960s, a bonded courier arrived at Saint Leonard's Church in the North End of Boston where my Uncle was Pastor; "Father Giovanni Guiseppe Antinori, Angelo has fallen asleep in the Lord. He bequeaths this to you."
Father Giovanni was tall, about 6' 2 " - he was handsome, holy, honest and brilliant. He loved Latin, food, wine, music - especially Gregorian Chant - and he was quick to fulfill any request. He was as close to Christ as anyone can ever remember meeting.
He was born in the North End of Boston where the Italian Catholic immigrants first settled in that charming section of that Protestant redoubt.
The manuscript my Uncle received was later authenticated as the oldest Italian text in existence and it was estimated to be of incalculable value and it contained the recipe for Punic War Sauce.
The recipe is for the best spaghetti sauce ever made and it was the sauce that fueled the Roman Legions which swarmed all over Carthage in 149-146 B.C. killing all and sundry and even, it is said, salting the countryside to render the land infertile.
Uncle Father Giovanni never had a chance to make that recipe.
The day after he was handed the bequest by the courier, He was saying the 6:00 A.M. Mass and as he said "Ite, Missa est (The Mass has ended) he fell and as he fell the Altar Boy heard him say, Deo Gratis" (Thanks be to God) and the Altar Boy told his friends Father Giovanni was dead before he hit the marble of the Sanctuary floor.
Because I was a favorite of Father Uncle Giovanni, all of his personal possessions were given to me and while his Missal, Bible, Rosary and many Theological texts of his are in my library, I have to say that the recipe for Punic War Sauce is the text I prolly read the most.
As far as I am able to detect, I am the first man to make Punic War Sauce in over 2000 years and I can tell you it is the best spaghetti sauce ever made.
Enjoy it alone; enjoy it with friends; but always remember to say a prayer of Thanksgiving because once you have tasted Punic War Sauce you will be convinced the recipe is as close to Divine Revelation as any recipe ever created.
