Where it smells like orange blossom, there the word is respected.

In Sicily, where the sun kisses the ancient land, a story is born, woven with firm hands, with the quiet voice of a family that upholds the honor of work, dignity, and the eternal word.

Before companies, there were men

Uncle Giovanino (pictured on the right next to his brother), our Grandma Flavia's brother, was a truck driver. He felt the truck was an extension of his back. He'd leave home, leaving Aunt Rosa, his wife, with a barely visible kiss. And he'd travel across Italy transporting all kinds of merchandise, every load to deliver, every commitment to fulfill. He had no maps. No navigator. He had his head in his head, the route memorized, and the confidence of someone who had traveled it a thousand times. He drove in all weathers. In summer, the cab was like an oven—no air conditioning, the engine burning hot underfoot. In winter, snow and cold crept in through every crack, and ice clung to his hands. And wherever he went, people greeted him. They celebrated his fate. He was a friend of friends. He knew everyone. He was a man of few words, but always polite and welcoming to anyone. But he was also not to be trifled with. A serious person, and one had to behave seriously with him. He didn't ask questions. And he almost never received explanations. It was enough for him that things were done as they should be done: well and respectfully.

A load of apples. A closed door. An open road.

One day, in Trentino, he was offered a shipment of apples to Calabria. It wasn't his usual route, but it would allow him to return south. He accepted. When he arrived at the unloading point, he spoke clearly: "First you pay. Then you unload." They responded with the forced smile of someone who believes the world is all cunning: "Relax. Let's get started. The boss will be right here." They unloaded half the truck. Then the boss arrived. He said: "We're not going to pay for the transport." Giovanino didn't respond. He didn't argue. He closed the truck. And returned to Sicily. From that moment on, those apples were no longer merchandise. They were a principle.

Two boys, two Piaggio Ape 50s, and a distant look.

Upon his return, he found his two nephews. They were young, but with a look of calm intelligence. Every day they worked on the street, as street vendors, with two Piaggio APE 50s, who knew every curve of the island. They loaded, sold, and returned. But that day, when they saw the apples in the truck, they understood immediately: "There are too many. We're not going to sell them with just the APEs. Let's take them to the market." No sooner said than done. They arrived at the market. The vendor told them the same thing he told many others: "Leave them here. I'll sell them. I'll tell you how much I made later." But they didn't. They stayed. Silent. To one side. Watching every gesture. Listening to every whispered figure. Reading every glance. Every hand movement. Every small sign that in the market is worth more than a signature. Finally, the vendor turned around and said, “Do something. You guys go buy the merchandise. Bring it to me. I’ll sell it here.”

Those guys are serious. Those... are the twins.

Thus, a profession was born. It wasn't written on paper. It was spoken out loud. By others. They began to move. First, by clients. Then by suppliers. Then by transporters. Little by little, the network expanded. And it grew naturally, because those who work well attract those who work well. Many didn't even know their names. But they said with confidence: "Those guys... are serious." "Those guys... keep their word." "Those... are the twins." They needed no introduction. It was enough to be present. And they were.

2007. History takes a name. The agency is born.

In 2007, Gaetano Cinturrino, raised among checkouts, negotiations, and early mornings, who was already working in a Sicilian market at the age of sixteen, left for Spain. He didn't leave to start from scratch. He left to give shape and name to what was already a method, presence, and reliability. Thus was born Cinturrino Fruit Management. An agency built within the markets, among those who buy and sell, among those who load and unload, among those who know that merchandise is not just merchandise: it's responsibility. A different kind of agency. Because it was born from the land. And it expanded into the countryside.

Today, what we are defines the path

Today we manage more than 500,000 tons per year, with a system that connects people, locations, and operations around the world. Wherever serious work is needed, we're there. We've built a solid network. And if today we collaborate with professionals in every corner of Europe and beyond, it's because we're still the same as always. Those who keep their word.

Today we are professionals who choose professionals.