Where Smoke Writes the Story
Catania, at first glance, greets you with the discipline of its grid-like streets and the brooding presence of Mount Etna above. But wander into its popular quarters - the lived-in streets, the student apartments, the shopfronts that are more grill than façade - and the city reveals a different character. Here, in the haze of burning coals and the richness of meat sizzling on metal grates, lives one of Sicily’s most distinctive street foods: the polpetta di cavallo, the grilled horse-meat meatball.
To the uninitiated, this local obsession may come as a surprise. But in Catania, the tradition burns as hot as the braziers themselves. To understand the city, one must understand this panino.
A Tradition Stoked by Legend
Every Sicilian dish carries a story, and the polpetta di cavallo has several. Some insist its origins lie in the Angevin period, when a starving populace, rebelling against French rule, seized and cooked the soldiers’ horses. Others trace the habit back to Roman practices, or to more recent centuries when equine butchers grew common in working-class districts.
What is certain is that horse meat - lean, flavourful, unexpectedly delicate - became a culinary cornerstone in Catania. And nowhere is it celebrated more unapologetically than in the city’s bracerie, those smoky temples of fire that animate via del Plebiscito.
The Pulse of Via del Plebiscito
As I turn onto the street, a white plume rises ahead like a signal flare. The closer I come, the thicker the haze becomes - smoke, salt, meat, and metal blending into an aroma that seems to vibrate through the air. This street is lined with macellerie and bracerie, some modest, others nearly legendary.
The grills are oversized, welded by local smiths, glowing like miniature volcanoes - a fitting homage to Etna. Men work behind them with unhurried confidence, shaping patties by hand, placing them on the grill, brushing panini with oil, and scorching their cut sides over the embers.
The Anatomy of a Catanese Meatball
The recipe is both simple and guarded. Horse meat, freshly minced. A fistful of breadcrumbs. Pecorino - sharp, salty, essential. Eggs for binding. Garlic, always. A touch of parsley or, in some grills, slivers of raw onion pressed straight into the meat. The mixture is shaped into large, handsome patties and placed directly over the flames.
Unlike other Sicilian street foods, these meatballs are not fried. They are born of the grill. And grilling transforms them: a charred crust, a smoky halo, a centre that should remain blush-pink if cooked traditionally. The flavour - sweet, iron-rich, clean - is distinct.
The Salmoriglio That Makes It Sing
Horse meat in Catania has a faithful companion: a sharp, bracing salmoriglio made from oil, red wine vinegar, and oregano. This is not a garnish. It is a creed. It cuts through the richness of the meat and brightens each mouthful, the vinegar lifting the sweetness of the horse, the oregano grounding everything in the herbal tones of Sicily’s countryside.
The Panino: A Matter of Honour
No two grills use exactly the same bread, and Catanesi debate this point with admirable passion. All agree, however, on semolina bread - sometimes soft, sometimes toasted to a brittle crackle. The ideal loaf holds its structure yet yields with each bite.
The panino is usually assembled in full view: warm bread, a generous brush of salmoriglio, one or two smoking polpette - or sometimes a thin slice of horse steak cooked al sangue - and a final splash of dressing. What emerges is a sandwich that teeters between ruggedness and refinement.
Three Grills, Three Stories
My journey takes me to three bracerie - each with its own personality.
“Da Saretto” - The Neighbourhood Favourite
On Viale Mario Rapisardi, I find a macelleria equina with a grill glowing at the entrance. The meatballs are hearty, the bread beautifully toasted, the salmoriglio tangy but not overpowering. It feels local, lived-in - a place for regulars who know precisely what they’ve come for. A solid, generous introduction to the tradition.
Carlo V - Flame and Chaos
Back on via del Plebiscito, the smoke thickens. Carlo V is a whirlwind: busy tables, rapid orders, and a grill that never rests. The meat is exceptional - juicy, flame-kissed, aromatic - though the bread can vary. Here the meatball shines most brightly, grilled to tender perfection and full of garlic and pecorino. It is rustic, wild, irresistible.
Dal Tenerissimo - A Local Legend
Further down the street, beyond the densest clouds of smoke, lies a braceria that locals speak of with affection: Dal Tenerissimo. Inside, the grill dominates the room. The patties are the largest and juiciest of the day, cooked with remarkable precision until the centre is tender and rosy. The bread is sturdier than at some rivals - not perfect, perhaps, but more than worthy.
The salmoriglio pools slightly at the base of the sandwich, creating a creamy, savoury mouthful where meat, bread, smoke, and vinegar meld into something greater than the sum of their parts.
The Spirit of Catania in a Sandwich
Standing in the street, panino in hand, I sense why this dish commands such loyalty. The polpetta di cavallo is not picturesque, delicate, or polished. It is a food of fire, hands, muscle, and soul. A food born in working-class neighbourhoods, sustained by tradition, and loved without apology.
It is the perfect embodiment of Catania itself: bold, smoky, generous, and entirely sure of its own character.
A Final Bite
As the afternoon light begins to fade and the smoke settles, one thing becomes clear: you cannot truly say you’ve been to Catania until you’ve stood on via del Plebiscito, breathing in the aroma of hot coals, waiting for a panino that arrives too hot to touch and too good to wait for.
A grilled horse-meat meatball in semolina bread may seem simple. But here, in this city of fire and sea, it tastes like heritage - a tradition so deeply rooted that it feels almost like a greeting. A welcome to Catania, served with smoke on the side.
Photo by stephan hinni on Unsplash