Drive inland from Lecce toward the sunburnt villages of Salento and you’ll notice how quickly the sea breeze gives way to silence.
Here, among stone walls and olive groves, lies another Puglia — one that speaks in the language of dust, wheat, and endurance.
It’s here that sagne ‘ncannulate ai ceci neri was born — a dish that turns scarcity into art.

There’s no extravagance, no seafood, no flash of burrata.
Just pasta, chickpeas, garlic, and olive oil — yet somehow, it tastes like history itself.

A Dish from the Earth

In Puglia’s deep south, life was once defined by the land’s stubbornness.
Soil was dry, rain unreliable, and the people learned to coax flavor out of whatever grew in defiance.
Chickpeas, hardy and drought-resistant, became a salvation crop.

Among them, the ceci neri — black chickpeas — stood apart.
Smaller and darker than their golden cousins, they have a dense texture and deep, nutty flavor. Their skin is thick, almost leathery, but once simmered slowly they reveal a soft, creamy heart.

They were the protein of the poor, a substitute for meat when animals were too precious to slaughter.
And when paired with sagne ‘ncannulate, the twisted ribbons of handmade pasta, they transformed into something truly nourishing — a peasant’s feast worthy of memory.

Sagne ‘Ncannulate – Twists of Time

The pasta’s name comes from cannula, meaning a reed or small tube.
Traditionally, women would wrap thin strips of dough around a stick, twisting them into elegant spirals before drying them on linen cloths in the courtyard.
These curls, once cooked, caught the thick chickpea stew in their folds — a practical design born from necessity, not ornament.

The sagne were usually made from durum wheat and water, sometimes enriched with a touch of barley or spelt flour to stretch the dough further.
Each twist was imperfect, slightly uneven, shaped by hand and time.
It was food that felt alive.

The Black Chickpeas of Puglia

For centuries, ceci neri were a cornerstone of Salento’s cucina povera — poor kitchen cuisine.
They grew in the wild, needed almost no irrigation, and could be stored for years.
Farmers often cooked them overnight in clay pots set near the fireplace, letting the slow heat soften their tough skins.

Their flavor is deep and rustic — less sweet than modern chickpeas, more earthy, more ancient.
Some say they taste of roasted chestnuts and soil; others say they taste of survival.

Once, every household had a jar of dried ceci neri in the pantry.
Today, they’re making a comeback — prized by chefs for their nutritional value and striking color, a connection between the past and the future of Puglian cuisine.

The Flavor of Resilience

The pairing of sagne ‘ncannulate and ceci neri isn’t just practical — it’s poetic.
Both ingredients represent endurance: wheat and legumes, two pillars of Mediterranean survival.
Together, they form a meal that’s modest but monumental, earthy yet elegant.

There’s something ceremonial about it: the slow simmering of the chickpeas, the rolling and twisting of the pasta, the rhythmic stirring as olive oil binds it all together.
Every step echoes the patience of generations that lived close to the land.

Traditional Recipe: Sagne ‘Ncannulate ai Ceci Neri

Serves: 4
Preparation Time: 30 minutes (plus soaking)
Cooking Time: 2 hours

Ingredients

• 400g sagne ‘ncannulate (or long fusilli, or tagliatelle)
• 250g dried black chickpeas (ceci neri)
• 1 small onion, chopped
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 small tomato, chopped (optional)
• 1 sprig rosemary
• 1 bay leaf
• 80ml extra virgin olive oil (preferably Coratina or Ogliarola)
• Salt and black pepper to taste

Method

1. Soak the chickpeas
   Rinse and soak ceci neri for at least 12 hours — they’re tougher than regular chickpeas and need time to reawaken.
2. Cook the chickpeas
   Drain, rinse, and place them in a large pot with fresh water, onion, tomato, rosemary, bay leaf, and a drizzle of olive oil.
   Simmer gently for about 1½ to 2 hours, until soft but intact. Add salt only at the end to prevent the skins from toughening.
3. Cook the pasta
   In a separate pot, cook the sagne ‘ncannulate until al dente. Reserve a ladle of the cooking water.
4. Combine and season
   Drain the chickpeas (reserving some broth). In a wide pan, heat olive oil and garlic until fragrant, then add the chickpeas and a splash of their broth. Simmer a few minutes to thicken.
5. Toss in the pasta, adding a little of the reserved pasta water to help the sauce cling. Season generously with salt, pepper, and another swirl of olive oil.
6. Serve
   Serve warm with a drizzle of oil and, for a rustic touch, a scattering of toasted breadcrumbs.
   Some locals add a pinch of chili or a few olives for extra depth

The Return of the Black Chickpea

For years, ceci neri almost disappeared.
Modern agriculture favored the easier, faster, beige varieties that filled supermarket shelves. But a handful of farmers in the Murge and Salento refused to let them vanish.

Today, they are being cultivated again in towns like Zollino and Soleto, where cooperatives and chefs have brought them back to the table.
Restaurants like Locanda Don Melo in Lecce or L’Arco dei Sapori in Martina Franca proudly feature them, pairing their earthy richness with regional wines and olive oils.

What was once a symbol of poverty has become a symbol of pride — proof that simplicity, when respected, never truly goes out of style.

The Philosophy of the Plate

There’s a saying in Salento:
“A lu poveru, lu cece è carne.”
(“To the poor, the chickpea is meat.”)

This dish embodies that truth.
It’s not a substitute for something grander; it is the grandeur.
It doesn’t imitate luxury — it transcends it, showing that comfort and nourishment can be found in the quiet balance of grain and legume, oil and earth.

Fun Facts

• Ceci neri contain nearly double the iron and fiber of regular chickpeas.
• They were once considered “witches’ food” because their dark color was thought to have mystical powers of protection.
• In some villages, the chickpeas were cooked overnight in a communal oven, each family marking its clay pot with a personal symbol.
• The twisting of sagne ‘ncannulate was often done in pairs — a grandmother and granddaughter working side by side, one rolling, one winding.
• Traditionalists say you should never eat this dish with cheese — it’s about purity, not embellishment.

A Bowl of Wisdom

Sagne ‘ncannulate ai ceci neri may not make headlines like burrata or seafood linguine, but it is the dish that explains why Puglia’s food endures.
It’s an act of respect — for the soil, for the hands that cultivate it, and for the humble ingredients that outlast empires and fashions alike.

Each forkful tastes of something eternal: sun, stone, patience.
And as the last twist of pasta disappears, what lingers isn’t just flavor, but gratitude — for a cuisine that finds beauty in what others overlook.