Where the scent of orange blossom fills the air, there, one's word is respected.

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

Before companies, there were men

Uncle Giovanino (on the right in the photo, next to his brother), our grandmother Flavia's brother, was a truck driver. He felt the truck as an extension of his own body. He'd leave home with his wife, Aunt Rosa, after a brief kiss. And he'd travel across Italy transporting all kinds of goods, every load to deliver, every commitment to keep. He didn't have maps. He didn't have a GPS. He had his head, the route memorized, and the confidence of someone who had traveled it a thousand times. He drove in any weather. In summer, the cab was an oven—no air conditioning, the engine scorching under his feet. In winter, snow and cold seeped in through every crack, and ice clung to his hands. And wherever he went, people greeted him. They celebrated him. He was a friend to all. He knew everyone. He was a man of few words, but always polite and helpful to anyone. But he was also someone you couldn't mess with. A serious person, and with him, you had to be serious. 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 with respect.

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

One day in Trentino, he was offered a load of apples to Calabria. It wasn't his usual route, but it would get him back south. He accepted. When he arrived at the unloading point, he spoke plainly: "Payment comes first. Unloading comes later." They replied with the forced smile of someone who thinks the world is full of tricks: "Relax. Let's get started. The boss will be here soon." They unloaded half the truck. Then the boss arrived. And he said: "We're not going to pay for the transport." Giovanino didn't reply. He didn't argue. He locked the truck. And returned to Sicily. From that moment on, those apples were no longer merchandise. They were a beginning.

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

Upon returning, he found his two nephews. They were young, but their eyes held a quiet intelligence. Every day they worked on the street as street vendors, with two Piaggio APE 50s that knew every curve of the island. They loaded, sold, and returned. But that day, seeing the apples in the truck, they understood immediately: “There are too many. We won’t be able to sell them all 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 not them. They stayed. Silent. To one side. Observing every gesture. Listening to every number whispered. Reading every glance. Every hand movement. Every small sign that in the market is worth more than a signature. Finally, the vendor turned and said: “Do one thing. You go and buy the merchandise. Bring it to me. I’ll sell it here.”

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

That's how a trade was born. It wasn't written down. It was spoken aloud. By others. They started to spread the word. First to the clients. Then to the suppliers. Then to the carriers. Little by little, the network expanded. And it grew organically, because those who do good work attract others who do good work. Many didn't even know their names. But they said with certainty: "Those guys... they're serious." "Those guys... they keep their word." "Those guys... are the twins." They didn't need introductions. Their presence was enough. And they were there.

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

In 2007, Gaetano Cinturrino, raised amidst crates, negotiations, and early mornings, who was already working in a Sicilian market at the age of sixteen, left for Spain. He wasn't leaving to start from scratch. He was leaving to give shape and a name to what was already method, presence, and reliability. Thus, Cinturrino Fruit Management was born. 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 is responsibility. A different kind of agency. Because it was born from the land. And it expanded across the countryside.

Today, who we are defines the path

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

Today we are professionals who choose professionals.