Why Italians Love to Talk About Food (57 page)

Until the end of the nineteenth century, eggplants were looked upon with suspicion in Italy. Just as cucumbers are subject to ostracism today, considered indigestible, so eggplants were once accused of all kinds of sins. At one time it was thought that they were responsible for indigestion, madness, and psychic disorders. The popular interpretation of their name
melanzana
as
mela insana
, or “unsound apple,” speaks volumes. In short, it took crusty, obstinate Calabrians to stubbornly keep on using eggplants for centuries, growing them, caring for them, and loving them.

By an irony of fate, one of the rare dishes invented by Calabrians has become famous by the name of “eggplant parmigiana,” even though Parma's role here is clearly rather marginal. In fact this dish, which is simply named after the Parmesan cheese sprinkled on the fried eggplant, is not prepared at all in Parma. And the Parmesan in Calabria, of course, was not brought from the north, but obtained here, in the Cistercian dairies, where the Calabrian monks produced it in accordance with the northern recipe.

In addition to eggplant, fava beans are used heavily here, as are broad beans and white beans. These vegetable protein foods are consumed in winter, during the cold season. But beans here are not cooked in the same pot with meat, as in the north. One
type of protein is considered to be sufficient. Along with these beans are cooked vegetable dishes with tomatoes, celery, catalogna chicory, and abundant olive oil, or with cabbage and potatoes. The beans are first marinated with spices for almost twenty-four hours. This, too, is an ancient Roman method, and a medieval recipe: in short, a culinary relic, a kind of gastronomic archaeology.

But the main source of protein in the diet of Calabria's inhabitants is fish. Calabrian fishermen work in ideal conditions due to their access to two seas: they can afford to choose where and when the fish are biting best, and where there are fewer storms, in the Tyrrhenian or Ionian waters. Particularly important for the economy is swordfish fishing, practiced by fishermen from the ports of Pizzo, Palmi, and Scylla—the rock with the six-headed monster from whom Ulysses perilously escaped while six of his sailing companions were devoured:

 

Deep-set that cavern lies; no archer stout
Might from his hollow ship an arrow send
Into its depths, where, barking fearfully,
Scylla her habitation hath. Her voice
Is like the yelping of some new-born whelp;
Her form is that of monster dread. Nor God
Nor man would joy to meet her face to face.
Twelve dangling feet she hath, and six long necks,
On each a fearful head with triple row
Of thick-set teeth environed with black death.
¹

 

Throughout the year, sardines and herring are caught between Scylla and Charybdis, but in May and June in the Gulf of Sant'Eufemia everyone mobilizes for the most important moment of the season. The arrival of the swordfish! Individual specimens may reach a length of four meters. As a rule, customers pay for the fishermen's catch in advance and wait patiently on the shore for the evening fish delivery.

Each year, in Bagnara Calabra (which according to the latest census counts two thousand professional fishermen out of eleven thousand families), a picturesque swordfish
sagra
is held on the first Sunday in July, attracting crowds of tourists both from Calabria and from nearby Sicily. During the
sagra
the priest blesses the
ontre
, the traditional boats of swordfish fishermen. The feast day takes place when schools of these fish, hurrying toward warmer waters in which to deposit their eggs, must pass
through the Strait of Messina. Though it is true that the fish are at home in these waters, the strait has always been troublesome for humans. The frightening tales about Scylla and Charybdis did not enter Homer's story by accident: the currents in the violent strait change direction at any time of day, so only the most expert sailors and fishermen are able to cross it with their boats.

Antonio Mongitore, a historian who lived in Sicily in the eighteenth century and authored the detailed study
Biblioteca sicula
(Sicilian library), described the preparatory rituals of going after swordfish. In the center of the
ontra
, or boat, stands a twenty-foot mast with an observation platform. From this platform the ship boy sights the prey. Two mighty harpoons are tied to 120-foot-long ropes. From high on the platform, the spotter shouts, and the tracking begins. The swordfish are mating at this time, so often the fishermen catch them in twos. A surefire strategy is to harpoon the female first. The male will not abandon her, and he, too, becomes easy prey. Domenico Modugno wrote a song about this sad tale: “Lu pisci spada” (The sword-fish), 1956.

In Bagnara Calabra, on the day of the
sagra
, a fire is lit right in the main square, Piazza Marconi.
Pennette
pasta is prepared in a sauce of
scozzetta
, that is, the flesh found under the neck of the swordfish. The fishermen eat the most tasty parts, the fins, right on the boat, while out fishing. In the main piazza of the village, slices of swordfish are grilled and guests are also offered the famous raw swordfish roulades. Swordfish here is cooked in tomato sauce
ghiotta
-style (in a pan) or
in salmoriglio
: marinated in olive oil, salt, garlic, oregano, capers, and parsley, and then grilled.

The harpooners also hunt tuna, just as the protagonist of
The Old Man and the Sea
by Ernest Hemingway hunted marlin. A typical local dish,
maccheruni
with
ventresca
(stomach muscle), is made from tuna.

 

We know that pasta plays a role as the gastronomic emblem of Italy, both in the Italians' eyes and in the eyes of foreigners. What about pizza, the second most popular Italian dish? Can pizza be called an Italian symbol, in the same way pasta is?

Well, no. It would be more accurate to say that pizza is a symbol of America or a symbol of international fast food. In Italy, pizza's importance and consumption of it is far more limited than what is believed abroad.

The name “pizza” has been traced back at times to the Greek
plax
, a flat surface or table, and at other times to the Latin
pinsere
, to crush or grind. A similar idea—the “edible table” of Virgilian memory—was known both in ancient Rome and in almost all the culinary traditions of the world. The Mexican tortilla, the Arabic pita, the Indian chapati, and the Georgian lavash are variations of the same approach: putting an oily filling, which stains, on an edible “plate” to protect the hands and clothing. In Naples snail soup was ladled into the crusty end of a bread that had been hollowed out. This same principle is also the foundation of American (and international) fast food: hamburgers and hot dogs.

Pizza, as it is understood everywhere in the world (round, covered with red sauce and cheese), was invented in Italy at the end of the nineteenth century. In 1889 Don Raffaele Esposito, owner of the famous pizzeria Brandi in Naples, presented his customers with an edible version of the patriotic tricolor (a pizza with red tomato, white mozzarella, and green basil), in honor of the queen of Italy, Margherita of Savoy. The queen herself appreciated the dish very much, and from then on the pizza took her name, Margherita. But at the beginning of the twentieth century, pizza, exported to the United States by Italian emigrants, became a phenomenon not so much of Italian but of American culture, and as a result an integral part of unremarkable popular food. In 1905 the first Italian pizzeria opened in New York. Following that, pizzerias began to appear everywhere, even in northern Europe. In Italy, pizza continued to remain a local specialty of two or three southern regions. Only after World War II did the Neapolitan creation ricochet back home from abroad, disembarking with the ships of Allied soldiers from the United States. Contributing significantly to the spread in its popularity were Italian-Americans who had become popular in Italy, such as Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin, who sang about pizza in his famous “That's Amore”: “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie . . .”