From Sicily to Schünow: How a chili from Etna found its way to us

It was one of those evenings that stay with you forever—warm light, the aroma of grilled vegetables, fresh pasta alla Norma, and the gentle clinking of glasses in a small Sicilian trattoria. We were sitting together somewhere on the outskirts of Catania when, curious as ever, I asked the waitress for something spicy. "Un po' di olio spiccante, per favore?"

She smiled, disappeared briefly, and then placed a small bottle on the table. I dipped a piece of bread into it, took a bite, and was completely awake the next moment. This oil was something special: aromatic, powerful, with a vibrant, clear spiciness that didn't just numb, but made the palate dance. I was immediately captivated.

Naturally, I asked: Which chili gave this oil its distinctive character?

The answer came with a story: about her grandfather, who had been cultivating his own chilies for decades at the foot of Mount Etna, in a small town called Fleri— Etna Sicilian chilies , as she called them. They weren't mass-produced, but a hand-cultivated variety, grown in volcanic soil, with sun and wind, and just enough patience to allow a plant to develop its full flavor.

I was so excited that I asked her for some seeds. Without hesitation, she gave me a small handful—a Sicilian promise in dry form. And I promised myself: One day, I will grow these chilies. Not just anywhere—but in our hometown, in Schünow, where the soil is different, the climate harsher, but the desire to garden is strong.

In 2024, the time had finally come. I unearthed the seeds I'd been cherishing for years, sowed them, and watched with a mixture of hope and wonder as tender green shoots made their way into the light. The plants developed remarkably well. They evidently enjoyed the Brandenburg wind, the alternation of sun and summer rain—or perhaps they still carried a piece of Mount Etna within them, helping them take root here.

The first harvest was small, but full of character. The heat? Still a small inferno. The aroma? Unmistakable. And so, in 2024, we harvested enough seeds for the first time to pass on this special chili—and with it, a bit of the Sicilian spirit.

Maybe it's just a small story about a few dried seeds. But for us, it's the beginning of something bigger: a culinary bond between the foothills of a volcano and a Brandenburg garden. And who knows? Perhaps one day this spicy olive oil will give rise to a whole new spicy tradition. Not on the edge of Mount Etna, but in Schünow.