One day, my uncle asked me to try making his mother’s panettone.
Through relatives, he had found an old family recipe — a recipe that carried more than ingredients. It carried memory. I made it for him, and from the very first try, he loved it.
“It is very close,” he said. “But my mother’s panettone had a special aroma.”
That sentence stayed with me.
My grandmother was no longer here, and finding out exactly what made her panettone different seemed almost impossible. But I could not let it go. Something in that missing aroma became a question I had to answer.
So I began to study how true Italian panettone is made. And that is when I discovered lievito madre — a natural mother starter, the living heart of traditional Italian baking.
But where could I find it?
Then I realized that the answer might be closer than I thought. With the little knowledge I had of microbiology, I began to understand that if I could not find lievito madre, perhaps I could create it — naturally, from the wild life living on the skin of real fruit.
I chose apples and grapes.
I spent an entire day at the market, searching not for perfect fruit, but for honest fruit. Not polished, not industrial, not made to look beautiful under bright lights. Finally, I found an old man selling apples. They were not the prettiest apples in the market. A little tired, a little imperfect, a littlewrinkled.
But the moment I saw them, I felt it.
This was the one.
It was as if that apple whispered to me:
“Take me home, and I will reward you.”
After many trials, I managed to create starters from both apples and grapes. But the apple starter gave me something different — something deeper, calmer, more alive.
On the twelfth day, just as I was beginning to lose hope, I witnessed a small miracle.
The ball of dough had come to life.
I fed it, strengthened it, multiplied it — and then I baked my first bread with it. The aroma filled not only my kitchen, but the entire apartment building.
After that came panettone. Then brioche. Then croissants. Then everything I could possibly imagine making with this living starter — this lievito madre gifted to me by a humble, imperfect apple from the market.
Over time, I understood something even more important. Long, slow, cold fermentation gives bread and panettone a deeper aroma, a softer texture, and a more natural taste. It also makes them gentler, easier to digest, and more honest to the body.
So I began sharing my breads, panettones, and pastries with friends, relatives, and people close to me.
And every time I saw joy on their faces, I thought about only one thing:
How can I let more people taste my grandmother’s panettone?
How can I share the breads and pastries that were born from patience, care, kindness, love, and a smile?
That is how the day came when I decided to create Levito Padre.
Levito Padre was born from an apple, from memory, and from the desire to give people more than bread or pastry.
To give them warmth.
Aroma.
A feeling.
And a small story in every bite.