Seven generations. One family. 242 years of the same recipe.
In 1783, the Pelino family started coating almonds in sugar in Sulmona, a small town in Abruzzo. They're still there. Still using the same recipes. Still running the original 19th-century machines their great-great-grandfathers built. Still taking days to create what most make in hours.
Elvezia Pelino represents the seventh generation. When I met her, she said something that stayed with me: "We could make more confetti faster if we changed our process. But it wouldn't taste the same."
Their confetti starts with Avola almonds from Sicily—the flat, sweet variety prized for its flavor. They coat each almond by hand in a copper basin, building up thin layers of natural sugar over several days. No starch. No additives. No industrial coating that cracks when you bite it.
The sugar becomes part of the almond instead of just sitting on top. You taste it immediately.
In Italy, Pelino confetti isn't candy. It's what you give at weddings, baptisms, first communions—the moments that matter in a family. The white confetti symbolizes purity. The colored ones represent joy. Every Italian knows this tradition. Every Italian family has their Pelino memory.
Stanley Tucci featured them in his series "Searching for Italy." He stood in their factory and showed what real craft looks like—not marketing, but families who've kept the same standards for over two centuries.
They built a museum inside their factory—the Museum of the Art and Technology of Confetti—to preserve the history and technique of this tradition.
I know the Pelino family personally. One of Elvezia's relatives worked at my deli. Our families have known each other for years. When I asked if The Sicilian could bring their confetti to the UK, she agreed—but only because of that relationship. They don't typically work with retailers or expand into new markets. They're careful about who represents their name.
We're the only place in Britain where you can buy Pelino confetti the way the family intended: in proper gift boxes, with the full story and tradition intact.
I brought back six varieties: Bianca, Pistachio, Tartufo, Tiramisù, Caramello, Limone. Each one made the way Elvezia's ancestors made them in 1783. The way her children will make them when she takes over.
This September, I'm traveling to Sulmona with my partner Stephen to film at the factory. Elvezia's uncle—the one Tucci interviewed—will show us the process. How the machines work. How they've maintained them. How each generation learns the craft.
When you open a box of Pelino confetti, you're tasting 242 years of family knowledge. The same almonds. The same copper basins. The same patience.
