Upon entering, he warned us of the smell. At first I thought it wasn’t so bad, but then the scent of fermenting anchovies and salty air burned my nostrils and back of the throat before settling deep in my lungs. The room we entered had fluorescent lighting and white tiles and I felt an urge to turn around back into the warm Amalfi sunlight and fresh sea-sprayed air. He ushered us into the cavernous facility with a warm smile and kind eyes and I figured I was willing to stick around for a bit longer. We walked past a man carefully labeling and boxing jars of alici and into a room where small wooden barrels were stacked as high as the ceiling. It seemed as if we might be in the hull of an old pirate ship — stench included — the barrels had been crusted over with salty remnants, making them look more like my 2nd grade science project than containers of a substance fit for human consumption.
