October 27, 2021
This is the first time I meet Davide Scaravilli, a trained jurist and today the heir to the centuries-old agricultural wisdom of the Virzì family. We are in a historic café in Catania, overlooking Piazza Duomo, facing the "Liotru," the black basalt elephant symbol of the city. The olive harvest is just a few days away, and despite the cheerful atmosphere around us, Davide is tense: "We expect an excellent year, but a hailstorm is enough to ruin everything."
His path is unexpected. After studying law and completing a master’s degree at Columbia University in New York, he seemed destined for a legal career. But one day, walking among the skyscrapers of the Big Apple, he felt an irresistible nostalgia: "At some point, I heard the call of Etna. I missed it terribly." So he decided to return to Sicily, to the Nebrodi mountains, to dedicate himself to the family farm. "It was a detour on a dirt road, risky, but you can’t beat the satisfaction."
Davide has very clear ideas: "The company is at an important moment, we are investing a lot. Soon we will also build the mill to have control over the entire supply chain; it’s the key to obtaining a perfect product." He has already revolutionized processes and products: "After a long testing phase, we decided to filter the oil. In the long term, it preserves better and the quality is not lost because we anticipate the harvest to guarantee the same flavors and aromas."
On social media, he describes himself as a "professional on the move to promote the cultural revolution of the agri-food sector." He explains: "To make the agricultural revolution, you first have to trigger a cultural revolution. As long as people associate the farmer with the poor peasant with a hoe, young people will continue to snub the land. We must convey the message that agriculture, despite its difficulties, is a wonderful sector to work in, to innovate in, and from which to gain great satisfaction, including economic ones. It’s a matter of reputation, and we all have to work together to change it. It’s our biggest challenge: we will win it only if we learn to network. The north, with large consortia like that of Parmigiano Reggiano, has set an example."
We are distracted by exotic voices and faces: a group of tourists sits next to us. "For some time now, we have been seeing Asians, especially Japanese, in Catania. Slowly, something is changing. We have to work as a team and enhance the untapped potential of our territory, starting with tourism and agriculture." We choose the wine, a Nero d’Avola. Davide points out that the same product enhancement process that wine has already successfully undergone can also be followed for oil: "Oil has a great opportunity. And it’s healthier, more democratic, and just as sophisticated."
I could listen to Davide for hours, but evening falls, and we have to say goodbye. As I make my way back through the lively and unruly river of people flooding Via Etnea, the city’s main artery, I reflect on our conversation. And I understand that life is a matter of trajectories. Some choose the straight and safe ones, and others, like Davide, prefer the rough and uncertain ones, the dust of the dirt road, the thrill of unexpected views and boundless horizons. I realize that driving straight leads to sleep, and that real life is made of sudden detours, hairpin turns, broken roads. Of dust and surprises. Those who have the courage to take the dirt road truly live.
