Pudding Time

Food has been on my mind quite a bit these days. It might be because I started putting some of my recipes up online (insert shameless plug of S Squared Recipes here), and it might be because, legitimately, food is one of the topics of Italian culture most shrouded in misunderstanding. Either way, I decided, today, to either bust or confirm a few myths surrounding the preparation and consumption of food in Italy and by Italians.

Are you ready? This one might upset you. Let's just move forward in list format to soften the blow a little.

1. Italians eat SO MUCH.

Oh my God, you guys, whenever I go to Italy, I gain, like 15lbs, it doesn't even make sense, there's so much food!!! Italians eat so much!!! Every meal is like a four or five-course meal ... how do they stay so skinny??

So I started with my favourite. In all fairness, until I traveled extensively there, I was under the impression that this stereotype held true, too. Up until a certain point of time and especially in certain regions, I'm sure it did. In the 1970s and 80s, when Italy was a more affluent society at the height of its culinary game (some argue), yes, food consumption was a big thing. In Sicily, for example, where food is priced rather reasonably, it's not uncommon to eat lots of it, and still today, the promise of food is also the easiest way to socialise and to guarantee a good turnout of friends on any average evening. But long gone are the days (if ever they existed) when every meal was a banquet and every banquet an embarrassing display of gourmet riches. Let's sort out the facts from fiction: it's true that Italian cuisine, like many other cultures, offers different courses and servings: the antipasto (or appetizer), primo (or first course, usually pasta based), secondo (or second course, usually meat or fish based), contorno (side dish), and the dolce, caffè, ammazzacaffè (dessert, coffee, and digestive). In some places, you'll also find the cheese course snuck in right before dessert and accompanied by fruit. But I've only ever had meals composed of all six courses on special occasions. Granted, in Italy, having your niece over for lunch on a random Sunday afternoon might be considered a special occasion -- in other words, there might be much more opportunity for these elaborate meals to arise. But they are not a daily occurrence. In real life, Italians limit themselves to a primo OR a secondo più contorno, both when cooking for themselves and when eating out. In some cases, they'll also throw in an appetizer or dessert to share, but that's more or less where they draw the line. THAT's how they stay so skinny. Just because there are six courses on the menu doesn't mean you have to (or should) sample them all in one sitting.

2) Italians only eat pizza and pasta.

No, they don't. In fact, Italy has one of the world's most varied kitchens (in my opinion). Each region develops its own precious specialties, which range from beef (in Tuscany) to fish (in coastal regions like Puglia or Campania), to stuffed or layered pasta (in Emilia-Romagna), to mushroom-based plates (in Piemonte). There's lots to choose from within Italy's national cuisine, and when Italians tire of it (which seldom, but occasionally, happens), there's also lots to choose from outside of it. In Florence alone, I've had Chinese, Thai, Indian, Japanese, Moroccan, French, and American food.

3) Italians make the best pizza in the world.

This one is more of a specification than a refutation. It's Neapolitans, not Italians that make the best pizza in the world. And there is a difference -- a huge one. The pizza you'll find in Milan, Genova, Venice, or even Rome, unless it's from a pizzeria owned and run by a Neapolitan, is not anything like the pizza you'll find in Naples. Okay, maybe it's something like it. There's dough and toppings involved, but that's about where the similarities end. The texture and height of the dough change (Neapolitan pizza has a thick, usually well-cooked crust), the toppings change, the ratio of sauce to cheese changes ... it's its own beast. So look for Neapolitan pizzerie when you travel within Italy, or be disappointed that you had a crappy, thin-crust pizza in Verona. You were expecting better, aren't Italians the masters of pizza? No. No, they are not.

4) Chicken primavera pasta (or similar) is a real thing.

It isn't, and I blame the Olive Garden (Lord, help us) for making everyone believe it is. In general, and with the (remarkably rare) exception of carbonara and amatriciana sauces, Italians don't really like to put chunks of meat in their pasta. They consider it degrading, or they don't particularly relish the idea of combining the primo and the secondo in the same serving (remember when I told you about how Italians like for things to be in their right place?). Either way, it simply does not occur (often) to Italians to put cubed chicken or pork or any kind of meat (except fish. Fish is a different thing), really, in their pasta, especially with other vegetables and heavy cream. That is not to say that they will never eat pasta and meat together in the same plate. Ragù (meat-sauce) and stuffed pasta like tortellini or ravioli are notable cases in point. It's not that Italians are anti meat + pasta. It's that the combination must be done in a certain way to make it real or appetizing. Chicken primavera is not an acceptable option. While we're at it, neither are garlic breadsticks (unless they also come topped with tomatoes).

5) Nothing in an Italian fridge goes wasted.

Wrong. Well, I mean, like the best of us, Italians try to put everything to good use. But while in America it might be common to leave a package of opened ham in the fridge for a week or more without worrying about its edibility, in Italy, if something is not eaten within 3-5 days of being purchased, it's out. Are you crazy? Do you want to get sick? That prosciutto has just been SITTING there for three days! It's an attitude that merits both blame and praise. On the one hand, it does seem a little wasteful unless only the perfect portions of everything are bought. On the other, it encourages the use of fresh ingredients, usually bought the same-day. Of course, this means going to the grocery store daily (or at least twice a week), but that might be a small price to pay for nearly-guaranteed freshness and quality.

6) Italians are food snobs.

This one is true, at least to an extent. They prefer to think of themselves as "connaisseurs," but the simple fact of the matter is that some behaviour Italians display toward food smacks of downright elitism. They almost categorically refuse to acknowledge even the possibility of leftovers (my boyfriend lets me keep mine in the fridge, with the understanding that I will be the only person to ever touch them), let alone their viability as recycled meals. They refuse to combine certain ingredients, or to dissociate classic combinations of others. (Once, I was called "American" for coating my pasta with burro e basilico (butter and basil) rather than the traditional burro e salvia (butter and sage).) They refuse to try new ingredients (BACON? GROSS), and they absolutely cannot tolerate the misrepresentation or inadequate interpretation of dishes they deem to be basic (how could this person possibly mess up this saffron risotto? I was making this when I was 3 years old!). Outside of Italy, they dismiss any ingredients that are non-Italian (what the hell is HAVARTI?), and limit their scope to the familiar and safe. So, yes, they have a special relationship with food, and it takes a while for them to broaden their horizons, but they do. Present them with an impeccable dish of any culture that makes use of a majority of ingredients they know well, and they readily appreciate it. Come on. They're not monsters (most of the time). Also, let's be honest, they might be anal retentive about their food combinations, but many times, they're just right. I have yet to be recommended a mixture of ingredients (in any form) that doesn't work perfectly. So, you know, you gotta give them that.

7) Vaccaro's (or similar) is the authentic Italian dessert experience.

Alright. Vaccaro's is just a Baltimore thing, that people unfamiliar with Baltimore might not understand, but in concept, it's very simple. It's a "pastry shop" that offers peanut-butter based mountains of marshmallow ice cream with unicorn-themed sprinkles and baco-bits shavings and calls them Italian desserts. There are places like Vaccaro's coming out the whazoo across North America and giving Italian desserts a bad - or incorrect - name.

The real Italian dessert experience is as much an appreciation of the classic tiramisù, amaretti, or cantuccini con vinsanto as it is an exploration of desserts imported from other cultures and given an Italian twist: the Pan di Spagna, Torta bavarese, Sacher, or Zuppa inglese. I might still contend that the French have the world's greatest desserts, but Italians deserve a fighting chance. Just, please. Don't limit your understanding of Italian dessert to Vaccaro's or - and just as egregiously - to gelato. With few exceptions, gelato is something you can only get (at a gelateria) in the summer, and is less a dessert than a generally refreshing snack acceptable any time of the day under the scorching Mediterranean sun. You can have it after every meal if you really must, but you'd be missing a world of opportunities.

8) What is this weird breakfast with NO EGGS?!?!

It's less of a stereotype than a general shock to the American system. Italians don't eat eggs at breakfast. In fact, they don't eat much at breakfast. Sometimes, and if they're really indulging, they'll have a bowl of cereal with their morning coffee. But most often, it's a coffee and a pastry - a viennoiserie, as the French say - usually a croissant (cornetto), brioche, or bombolone or ciambella (donut). At home, it might be a store-bought viennoiserie or fette biscottate (like Melba toast) with butter and jam or nutella. Either way, there's not a whole lot of protein going on at the Italian breakfast table. They'll have the occasional pancake, but best of luck to you if you try to serve it with ham or breakfast sausages.

And while on the topic of breakfast and coffee ...

9) Coffee is espresso. Espresso is coffee.

Yes. I mean, there are a million ways to make "a coffee" in Italy (maybe not the Starbucks million, but quite a few). There's the caffè corretto (with liquor), caffè macchiato (with a shot of milk), cappuccino (only to be consumed before 11am), caffè latte (latte), and more. But when you say "caffè" -- just straight-up, 100% roasted bean -- what you're asking for is a single shot of espresso (not EXpresso), no frills. So if you say you want "un caffè," don't be surprised if they don't come out with a tall Americano to-go. That's not how things go there. I know I don't need to talk to you about coffee culture in Italy, about how "getting coffee" means standing at the bar for five minutes (at most) and drinking your coffee at the counter from a ceramic cup. But just in case, that's what you're in for. It's not an "I'll get my Starbucks venti and sit at a table and pull out my Mac" kind of scenario. Nor is it an idyllic "I'll just talk with the cute bartender all day long while I twirl my hair around my finger" kind of scene: chances are, at least in the morning, there are at least 20 more of you at the bar all at the same time, and your bartender can barely remember your order, let alone notice the brightness of your baby blues (well, actually, that might not be true given the reputation that precedes Italian men, but you get my point).

10) Lunch is almost never a salad (sorry).

In fact, the insalata usa poco in Italia (salad is not very common or popular in Italy). Personally, I pride myself on the innovativeness and creativity of my (many) salads (my repertoire grows daily). But In Italy, they're not really a thing. You can get a mixed salad, but it's usually just a sad little gathering of some tortured lettuce, underripe tomatoes (because they use the good ones for bruschetta or tomato sauce), large slices of cucumbers, and shredded carrots -- with no dressing (they'll bring you olive oil, balsamic vinegar, salt, and pepper, and leave you to your own devices). Accordingly, finding salad for lunch is a difficult feat -- Italians are more likely to have a panino (sandwich) or a slice of pizza, or even a primo than a salad.

And yes, it's one paninO, two (or more) paninI.

Along the same lines:

11) (bonus) Italian rustic cuisine is vegetarian.

I mean, not really. Again here, things have changed historically and as a function of economic prosperity. A rustic kitchen is typically associated with a home with limited income: the kitchen is "rustic" because the cook can't afford fancy ingredients. As a result, many rustic Italian dishes are deprived of meat (or at least of the best cuts of meat), simply because rustic chefs could't afford to buy it. But calling rustic cuisine vegetarian is a (large) leap. In fact, "vegetarian" is not really a thing in Italy. In the US, it often means (or should) eating lots of vegetables prepared in different ways. In Italy, if you don't want meat, you get a primo,  you don't go actively looking for things made out of vegetables instead. Vegan food is still less of a thing. In Florence, there is all of one vegan restaurant, and maybe only a handful of "vegetarian" places, at least two or three of which are simply smoothie shops. The green wave gains access to Italy in different ways. It's not unlikely to find asparagus, chicory, or broccoli on a conventional Italian menu. But they're all side-dishes, not main courses. I don't think they will ever be main courses. It breaks my heart, because I make a killer potato-asparagus and broccoli-egg salad, but what can you do? I'm only Italian on the inside, and only, my Italian friends tease, a half of a half (so, I guess, a quarter?). I believe in the green, but I may be alone.

So those are my top 10 (plus a bonus) Italian food myths. Feel free to ask about or comment on any others that come to mind. In the meantime, buon appetito!