He had partners and three boats. But before World War II, competition from Spanish anchovies was stiff and they were priced out of the market. My grandfather’s partners bailed and he went out of business. That’s when he decided to open this place. He set aside a case of Sciacchetrà, I still have it.  It’s so old that only one still has a label and Sciacchetrà is spelled with just one C instead of two.  They all told him, ‘You’ll fail again’. That was in 1958 and he died here in 1992. We are now the third generation running this place, but my mother still helps us. My sister works the morning shift and I take care of the afternoon shift. It’s a simple division. We like simple things.

My father was Sudanese, my parents met in Genoa while they were studying at the university there. Then we all moved to Sudan. When I was 3 my mom decided to move back to Italy with me and my little sister, my father stayed in Sudan. That was the last time I saw him, 7 years later we received news of his death during the Sudanese civil war.