Sweet and with extraordinary properties, manna is extracted from ash trees. Today it is at risk of extinction
Man hu’
During the Exodus of the Jews narrated in the Bible, the people of Israel found themselves tired and hungry near Mount Sinai, fleeing from slavery in Egypt. After several days of famine, one morning the Jews found a peculiar dew near the camp where they had taken refuge. “Man hu’, ‘what is it?”, they exclaimed: it was manna, a gift from heaven that God had sent to feed them. A miraculous and mysterious substance that would feed them for the forty years of their migration until their arrival in the land of Canaan. From “man hu” comes manna.
Like honey focaccia
Today, a few millennia later, that particular grainy dew, as described in the Bible, is produced in the Sicilian Madonie, a beautiful mountain range located near Cefalù and not far from Palermo. The peculiar food that fed the Jews was “similar to coriander seed” and “white” in color with the taste of “honey focaccia.” And even if it is perhaps a different food from the biblical one, it is not too dissimilar. In the one we had the pleasure of trying, there are no traces of focaccia flavors… yes, honey, and also almond, walnut and coconut, a food that lives up to its miraculous legend in terms of goodness and properties. Each piece has a slightly different flavor from the others, a uniqueness within uniqueness. According to the biblical account, God made it rain down on the Jews for decades, but today it is produced only in the two towns of Castelbuono and Pollina by a mere twenty or so producers, perhaps eighteen. It does not exist anywhere else in the world: a real shame, a word that fits perfectly, especially when you consider its extraordinary properties.
Mario Cicero
Mario Cicero, a long-standing producer near Castelbuono, guided us through the incredible world of manna. With his 600 ash trees, meticulously cared for using precise techniques, Mario is one of the largest producers in the area. He tends to his trees throughout the year, until summer, when the work intensifies and the resin is extracted by making incisions in the bark. It comes out in the form of liquid drops and then solidifies around a nylon thread specially placed under the incision. This “nectar of the gods,” one of the names given to manna, is extracted from the trunks during the coolest hours of the day, preferably early in the morning or in the evening. A few hours after leaving the ash tree, the manna solidifies, often in a slender shape; it is then dried in a dry environment and is ready to be consumed. A wonderful gift from the earth, with a unique and pleasant taste and beneficial properties.
In addition to its excellent taste, manna is a natural sweetener that can be consumed by diabetics. It is mainly composed of mannitol, glucose, fructose and oligosaccharides, and can be used to obtain laxative effects when dissolved in warm water or milk, relieving coughs and gastritis. In the past, Arabs also used it to make their horses’ coats shinier. It is also an excellent ingredient for desserts, although it is rarely used due to the very small quantities available. Mannitol is also widely used in cosmetics, but for the same reason that limits its use in gastronomy, it is rarely used. As Mario tells us with the precision of someone who knows a practical field such as agriculture inside out, manna has simple but very strict rules.
The process
First and foremost, it proliferates when the tree is lacking water, which is why production stops with the first heavy rain of summer. The same reason underlies the extraction period, which is in summer, when the plant produces this very special sap in the absence of water. In the wonderful journey Mario takes us on, what strikes us is his relationship with the entire ecosystem he cares for, starting with the trees, passing through the earth and the insects that inhabit it. It is not uncommon to hear him say “as they say” when referring to ash trees, hornets and ants. His relationship with these insects is very special and backed up by precise evidence. In the twenty-five years he has been extracting manna, he has only been stung by a hornet once, even though the ground is teeming with them. Hornets are a mixture of fearsome enemies and collaborators: when they approach the tree, it means that it is worth trying to make an incision in the trunk, but it remains unknown whether the resin will come out, although the hornets seem to be quite accurate. “The temptation is always to make the incision,” Mario tells us, “but then you risk coming away empty-handed. It is a gamble in which the risk is only reduced by experience.”
The hornets then scold Mario when he arrives late, banging on his head in protest, because they also feed on nectar. And they need Mario, as doing it themselves is very tiring, involving laborious piercing with their stingers. Their human friend always approaches the trees from the same side, so that he can be recognized and avoid clashes with the flying insect, but he adds, “I have to be in charge here, even if it means raising my voice. Who knows what my neighbor will think…” It is easy to believe him, given the number of hornets that are constantly resting on all his plants; it is incredible to think that he has only been stung once.
The relationship with ants is similar. There are seven different species in the soil, each of which approaches the tree at specific moments during its maturation, signaling the right time to make the incision: if one type approaches, it is best to wait a fortnight; if another lands on the tree, there are seven days to go, and so on. Based on these and other indicators, he decides when to cut and see what the trunk has in store.
It is meticulous, manual work, done with passion and a strong symbiotic connection with nature. Mario embraced this production firsthand, shunning work in restaurant kitchens, which he frequented throughout Italy and America. And it is precisely to America that he turns to find new land on which to significantly expand production. “Manna is in danger of becoming extinct. I started 25 years ago and we are still the same people producing it. Today, we don’t even reach a total of one ton, whereas in the 1940s there were producers who made two tons on their own.” Then production began to decline, until now, when it is in danger of ending, perhaps forever. This is a possibility that Mario does not want to accept. The parameters are simple: maximum temperatures between 28 and 32 degrees and humidity between 40% and 60%. Climate change, with its rising temperatures, is making it increasingly difficult to produce it in his area.
“Of course, the financial gain is welcome, but it’s not what matters to me. Even if the harvest isn’t the best, it’s still been a good year for me: I’ve been here and lived in peace with myself and with nature.”
Once again, we have to believe him.