When I first discovered that the Venticinque story tracks back to the Sicilian region around Enna, I tried to learn as much as I could about the area through internet research. Having not yet ever been to the mountainous regions of Sicily’s interior, I had no idea what the towns there would feel like. I wondered if they’d be modern and familiar like places I’d been to (Palermo, Cefalù, Messina), or something more archaic.
However, I already knew Italy well enough to understand that the key to comprehending any paese (village) is its social vortex: the bar. Functioning as a sort of democratic meeting place for the people, the Italian bar (phonetically pronounced kind of like “BAHH-duh”) can be understood by Americans as a cross between a coffeeshop, a cafe, a seniors community center, a family ice cream parlor, and a pub. It’s a truly democratic community meeting place, one that changes throughout the day. The mornings tend to deliver older folks who linger and chat with one another, or hang and read the newspaper while people come and go; mornings also initiate the steady day-long stream of people who come in to say hello and drink a quick espresso standing at the bar, often clocking less than 2 minutes from entry to exit. Like many places in Italy, it’s not unusual for bars to close from 1:30-4pm. After that, for those that re-open for the second part of the day, the steady stream continues but is punctuated by a few main waves: the crowd of teenagers just getting out of school, and a bit later, the aperitivi crowd— friends meeting up for drinks and snacks from 5-7ish). In bigger cities, the bars will stay open late and often tend to be be patronized by a diverse crowd until it slowly dies down toward closing.
One of the first things I discovered in my research about the Venticinque-Leonforte connection was a bar in town called Il Dolce, which is owned and run by a guy named Angelo Venticinque. I couldn’t find much info about him online, but I had a feeling that when we finally met, it would be a significant connection. So when I finally got the chance to travel to Leonforte, Angelo’s cafe was top on my list of places to visit. Not only did I want to meet Angelo, but I also felt like his cafe could serve as a crash course for the Leonforte scene. And as it turns out… I was right!
Since the first time I navigated the winding hillside road up into town, I have grown to know and love Leonforte. It’s a town with a unique feel and energy to it: simultaneously harsh and sweet, ancient and contemporary, dark and light. In the months and years ahead, I will do my best to show what I see and feel when I’m there, in my future posts.
But for now, I just wanted to share a photo that I took of Angelo at his bar back in 2018. He’s a warm guy, someone who is genuinely nice and whom I’ve started to (only semi-jokingly) refer to as “the most famous man in Leonforte”. I’m definitely looking forward to spending more time with (and, of course, photographing) Angelo, his wife Rosetta, and the rest of their family. Also… I think Angelo and his cafe would be a fantastic subject for one of the mini-documentaries I’m making for this project, and I’m really hoping he’ll be willing to collaborate with me. He’s definitely a busy guy, and I’m crossing my fingers I can catch him long enough to do it. So many characters come through the doors of his bar (and some working behind the counter too!), so many stories to tell.
Angelo Venticinque at his cafe Il Dolce, located right in the town’s center. October 2018, Leonforte.