All the bakery and shop windows in this period just before Easter are filled with a very local traditional cake called “pizza di Pasqua.” Despite the name, it has nothing to do with pizza—it’s slightly sweet, wonderfully aromatic, and flavored with grated orange zest, cinnamon, and a splash of liqueur.
We usually enjoy it on Easter morning, alongside salami, cheese, and chocolate. It’s one of those unique traditions you won’t find in other parts of Italy—very much a specialty of Tuscia.
Some of my fondest memories are from when I was a child, going with my mum to her friend Pina’s house to make them. She had a big outdoor oven, so many cakes could bake together at once. Sometimes we had to wait until midnight—or even later—before they were finally ready to go in.
The rising process was long and unpredictable, and we never knew exactly how long it would take. I still remember my mum’s quiet anxiety, hoping the dough would rise at just the right time to match the oven’s temperature. And then, the exhaustion—falling asleep in the car on the way home, surrounded by all those “pizze di Pasqua” wrapped in newspaper.
The next morning was pure magic: waking up to a kitchen table full of beautifully baked cakes, and my mum standing there with such a proud smile.
In the old times, any leftover dough wasn’t wasted. It was turned into something special for the children—a little puppet called “Bracone,” decorated with an egg on its belly and berries for eyes, a simple and lovely symbol of fertility.