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| Me in Osun Grove, Osogbo, Nigeria, 2023 RJ Peltz-Steele CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 |
Many years ago, when I lived in Arkansas, a green-thumbed friend (and brilliant criminal-defense appellate lawyer) came by my house and advised me to rip out a small patch of bamboo that had taken root in my backyard.
"You don't want that," she said, eyes wide with murderous intent.
A first-time homeowner, I was skeptical of this plant prejudice. I could not get anything else green to survive the scorching summer in Arkansas. It seemed wrong to kill a stalwart survivor.
Moreover, my limited prior experience with bamboo was not adversarial. My university fraternity, in Virginia, maintained a small crop. Our annual harvest for a South Pacific-themed party—yeah, I see the cliché too, and you can bet we played into it—seemed to keep the growth in check.
My friend continued: "It'll take over, and you won't be able to get rid of it."
"Well if it gets to be too much," I posited cautiously, "how do you get rid of it? There must be a way."
"Well," she cocked her head and thought for a moment. Her eyes narrowed, and she pursed her lips. "You can nuke it," she said wryly.
She might have overstated the requisite pruning strategy. But she wasn't wrong.
Once bamboo gets a foothold, it is extremely difficult to eradicate. It grows through a network of underground stems, from which it can re-sprout, even after you tried painstakingly to pull it all out. In New England, where I live now, bamboo is a problematic invasive species. It grows fast, expands its territory aggressively, and devours water, destabilizing native habitats.
Fast forward to a visit to Italy two summers ago, and I was surprised to discover that my cousin Daniele is in the bamboo business. When he first said "bambù," describing his venture and passion, I thought it was an Italian word that I didn't know.
The business has a clever name, actually, a play on words. This is an aside, but stay with me; it's worth it.
"Maremma" is a region in Tuscany that includes Pitigliano, where Daniele is and is from, and where my grandparents emigrated from. The Maremmano sheepdog and horse are named for this region. Pitigliano is in the heart of the Maremma Grossetana, meaning the part of Maremma in the province of Grosetto, in the south of Tuscany.
The coastal and low-lying parts of the Maremma region were once much swampier than they are today, having been widely drained for development. Accordingly, in the lower case, maremma, in English as well as Italian, refers to a marshland, exactly the sort of watery terrain where bamboo thrives, and which has not disappeared from the region.
Meanwhile, maremma has an entirely other usage in Tuscan slang. It's one of my favorite things in language, in fact: a "near curse," or what linguists call a "minced oath"—like "gosh" instead of "God, "darn" instead of "damn," or "freakin'" instead of, well, you know. Maremma is old; probably it comes from "Madonna," so a way to take the Virgin's name in vain without offending hearers.
In this usage, "maremma maiala," the latter word meaning sow, in the swine sense, is a generic, mild curse. Alternatively, maremma acts as an exclamation to emphasize what follows. Thus, Google translates "maremma che bambù" as "wow, look at that bamboo!" Or, at risk of lexical borrowing, I prefer, "Mamma mia, look at that bamboo!" (HT @ Mmargheritas.)
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| Bamboo and Ginger Jam by Maremma Che Bambù © Maremma Che Bambù Used with permission |
Archaeologists tell us that bamboo once grew in Italy, in prehistoric times, but went extinct something like a million years ago. It returned in modern times, imported from Asia, first as an ornamental plant, as early as the 19th century. It worked its way into textiles after World War II, famously pairing with Italian leather to form the handle of an "iconic" 1947 Gucci handbag.
In the 21st century, bamboo has taken off as a crop in the name of sustainability. It's now farmed widely in Italy and elsewhere, where it is not native. Especially in the south of Italy, giant bamboo species are farmed on a large scale. The appeal of the "bamboo forest" is that it's a huge carbon sink, removing climate-change-inducing carbon dioxide from the atmosphere at perhaps 36 times the rate of an ordinary woodland —also thereby entitling investors to carbon offset credits, where such programs exist.
The ideal, then, is to turn the bamboo into product, to close the sustainability loop. Forever Bambù, for example, an Italian benefit corporation, touts its "Made-In-Italy" branding and posits that bamboo biomass can replace problematic products such as plastics, along with dangerous forever chemicals.
"Alongside other partners, we have produced the first biopolymer granules with a variable percentage of giant bamboo filler, a fully biodegradable material," CEO Mauro Lajo told Renewable Matter last year. "We are also doing research into the worlds of bioconstruction and eco-leather products, with incredible results." I don't know what all that means, but it sounds promising.
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| Daniele Marroni © Maremma Che Bambù Used with permission |
Bamboo shoots are a healthy food with rich nutritional properties. Low in sugar and fat, they are rich in B vitamins, minerals (copper, manganese, calcium, iron, potassium, and phosphorus), and fiber, contributing to proper metabolism. They are excellent for those following a low-calorie diet and for vegan or vegetarian diets. Their calorie intake is very low: only 27 kcal per 100 g. In Asian cuisine, bamboo shoots are used primarily in soups or stir-fried with mushrooms, vegetables, white meats, or fish. Their flavor is very delicate, a blend of artichoke, asparagus, peas, and potatoes. A neutral base that lends itself perfectly to original pairings with local produce.
Maremma Che Bambù sells Bamboo and Artichoke Cream, Bamboo and Ginger Jam, Bamboo Shoots, and Ready-Made Bamboo and Vegetable Sauce. I'm a pushover for ginger, admittedly, but I give my hearty endorsement nonetheless to the jam as my favorite. Shipping presently only goes to Italy, but if you want to place a large order, I'm sure it's worth reaching out.
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| Pitigliano, 2024 RJ Peltz-Steele CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 |
Daniele's roots are in Pitigliano and Maremma Grossetana almost literally; since 2015, the bamboo venture has taken over what once was family vineyard.
Pitigliano wine exports shrank in recent decades, as the global industry saw mass-market producers price out smaller vineyards from international trade. Daniele appropriately diversified, but managed to stay in farming and preserve a local vibe. Pitigliano and neighboring towns on the Etruscan Via Cave trails still produce mouthwatering wines and other fare you can try when you're there.
At the end of the day, I confess, I don't know the math on climate change and bamboo farming in Italy. But if I can help the environment by eating, I'm in.
And hey, if it doesn't work out—worst case? We nuke it.
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Me at the (defunct) nuclear launch controls of Oscar-Zero (NHS/SHS) in North Dakota, August 2026 |
