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participants feast pleasurably under the banners of interceding saints and martyrs. Thus, in the village of Force, in the Marches, the
sagra
dedicated to the
cacciannanze
, typical focaccias of bread dough baked in a wood-burning oven, is also called the Feast of the Blessed Maria Assunta Pallotta. But these feasts have little to do with sanctity—so little that zealousCatholics are often irritated by them and do not always participate. The
sagre
are for the most part organized by informal, nonreligious groups of individuals brought together by some interest, such as an association of fishermen, a committee for environmental protection, or a group of passionate local history buffs. Such feasts may even become an arena for ideological protest, and then the saints’ statues on the tables are replaced by portraits of the founding fathers of political movements.
    Even in these cases, though, the
sagre
are popular, open, lighthearted, and democratic feasts.
    In every gorge, in every piazza, on every hill, Italians celebrate the fruits of their labor. To name a few more: the black bread
sagra
(Champorcher, Valle d’Aosta), the feast of Valpelline soup (Valle d’Aosta), the
sagra
of chestnuts (Châtillon, Valle d’Aosta), of
vin brûlé
(Étroubles, Valle d’Aosta), of peaches (Canale, Piedmont), of hazelnuts (Cortemilia, Piedmont), of the white truffle of Alba (Alba, Piedmont), of honey (Arese, Lombardy), of frogs (Bornasco, Lombardy), of rabbits (Brembio, Lombardy), of asparagus (Cantello, Lombardy), of risotto (Villimpenta, Lombardy), of cherries (Bareggio, Lombardy), of milk (Truccazzano, Lombardy), of goose (Mortara, Lombardy), of the porcini mushroom (Motta Visconti, Lombardy), of bilberries (Piazzatorre, Lombardy), of apples (Caldonazzo, Trentino), of olives (Pove del Grappa, Veneto), of asparagus (Bassano del Grappa, Veneto), of corn (Marano Vicentino, Veneto), of chicory (Crespadoro, Veneto), of strawberries (Faedis, Friuli), of crayfish (Remanzacco, Friuli), of olive oil (Moneglia, Liguria), of anchovies (Deiva Marina, Liguria), of focaccia (Recco, Liguria), of grilled meat (Terzorio, Liguria), of snails (Borgio Verezzi, Liguria), of rosemary focaccia (Lavagna, Liguria), of chickpea flour flatbread (Maissana, Liguria), of chestnut flour flatbread (Rossiglione, Liguria), of
porchetta
(roast suckling pig) and tortellini (Lavezzola, Emilia Romagna), of
cotechino
(pork sausage) (Val Tidone, Emilia Romagna), of bruschetta (Predappio Alta, Emilia Romagna), of roots (Soncino, Lombardy), and on and on.
    Little by little, religious feasts (in the name of the local saint) and ideological feasts (in the name of the proletarian revolution) merged with the traditional pagan
sagre
, but a central place was always reserved for the local specialty or typical product. Today, in sports fields, parks, and recreational areas, under the tents of the feasts of
L’Unità
, a well-known Communist newspaper, families roast, prepare, eat, and clean up together, just as they once did in churchyards and piazzas.
    There is nothing that brings people together like food. And if unity is ruptured at the level of higher politics, the fracture is also evident in gastronomic declarations. When inthe nineties the Communist Party split into the Democratic Party of the Left (DS, or Democratici di Sinistra) and the Communist Refoundation Party, Massimo D’Alema, then secretary of the Democratic Party, summarized what had happened by resorting to the language of the culinary code. In fact, addressing those who intended to abandon the party in order to found another, he exclaimed: “With you . . . will go those who grilled the steaks at the feasts of
L’Unità
.” 1
    But it did not end there. Political divergence found a place even within the DS itself, and in February 1998, concluding their meeting in Florence, D’Alema attacked the sacredness of that which no one had dared challenge until then: