That Wonderful Scent of Fresh Bread and the Alley Felt Like One Big Family

There was a time when a town could be recognised by its scent alone. In Turi, that scent was bread. Warm, fragrant, alive. It slipped between the stones of the narrow alleys, climbed slowly up the stairways, and entered homes like a daily greeting. It was the smell of the d’Addante oven, known as “Cicoria”, and it was more than bread: it was belonging.

The oldest and largest oven in the town was not merely a workplace, but a beating heart. Built in the 16th century, when Turi was still enclosed by its defensive walls, it preserved within its stone vaults and worn floors a ritual made of ancient gestures, industrious silence and shared waiting. Every morning at dawn, the fire was lit, and with it an entire day took shape: not only bread, but focaccia, biscuits, taralli—symbols of a tradition passed down without the need for words.

The oven belonged to the family of Paolo Boraccesi, heir to an ancient craft and to a deep sense of responsibility. Because baking bread in those days meant nourishing an entire community. In hard times, during years of war and poverty, that place remained a fixed point: what little there was was shared, people waited together, and recognised one another.

After decades of activity, the oven closed, as often happens to things that seem eternal only while they exist. Yet it did not disappear. It remained there, silent, for about a year, until love for memory and roots brought it back to life. A careful, respectful restoration that did not erase the marks of time but embraced them. Today, the d’Addante oven stands as a living testimony to what we once were—and perhaps to what we still are.

Alongside the history of the place runs the history of its people. Faces, families, names that tell of a different Turi—slower, more supportive. A town where everyone knew one another, where an alley could truly feel like a single family. Where kindness was not an exceptional gesture, but a daily habit.

This story is born from the memories of Paolo Boraccesi, a man of integrity and humanity, who carried the values of his work with him even far from home, without ever forgetting his origins. It is a tribute to his mother Chiara, guardian of scents, flavours and stories; a return to childhood, to those days when following a trail of fresh bread was enough to feel safe.

Because there are places that never stop speaking. And the d’Addante oven still speaks today, with the slow voice of stone and with the lingering memory of that wonderful scent of fresh bread.

Credits and sources

Text based on original content by Paolo Boracci

Originally published in Il Paese, November 2015

Photographs: family historical archive / original publication