Paolo and Marisa are, by all accounts, your typical everyday Italian farmers.  That is, with one big exception:  Their farm happens to be across the road from us…  those crazy people that bring all of the Americans to town…  Yes, Canadians, Australians and Brits, too.. but to them, they hear English and simply think “Americans”.

A fun, and to some degree, macabre tradition began three years ago.  A guy named Steve visited with his then girlfriend, Jessica.  He was a guy from Jersey with that classic dry, sarcastic, irony-ridden sense of humor.  He walked over to the farm, spotted a pig, and simply exclaimed two words:  RAMON JAMON.  Yes folks, he named the pig.  While it is widely considered a bad idea to name your food-to-be, I was right there with him, video camera in hand…. And for those of you that have been reading my blog, I’m that guy from L.A. with that classic dry, sarcastic, irony-ridden sense of humor.  I just couldn’t let it be.

While Steve left, I couldn’t let it go.  I had to humanize Ramon.  I went on to shoot hours of video.  People meeting Ramon, people feeding Ramon, interviews of people after having met Ramon.  The end result was a video I put up on the web that has gone on to be one of our classics:  “They Called Him Ramon” (View the video on YouTube).

A year later, Ramon (or at least part of him) was the prosciutto in our kitchen, and there was a new pig in the pen.  He had an attitude… not too friendly.  Still, the tradition continued.  As fate would have it, Steve and Jessica returned to get married in Soriano.  We waited for them arrive before we named the new pig.  When they did, we took this new pig’s attitude into account and called him “Jabba The Pig”.  Yes, Star Wars fans, he was big, ugly and mean.  The name fit.

All of this brings us to our 2010 season.  We were back in Italy, and Jabba was now the prosciutto in our kitchen, and there was a new pig in town.  He was a different kind of pig… nothing like Jabba.

The new pig was cute and adorable.  He was friendly and social.  He even had one blue eye and one brown.  But at the end of the day, he was a big fat pig.  So we thought of an appropriate name for a big fat teddy bear of a pig.  We called him Sumo.  Sumo The Pig.

As with years past, all of our guests met him, but unlike with Jabba, Sumo became extremely popular.  People fell in love with him.  They would feed him while talking to him like a puppy.  They would get saddened by his fate.  They connected.

The unparalleled love for Sumo gave him a life like no other pig.  All season long, people would set food aside to feed him, making Paolo and Marisa very happy farmers.  Sumo got his very own FaceBook profile, and boasts more friends than most humans!  (Visit Sumo’s FaceBook).  His genealogy has been traced and blogged (Read The “Our Year in Italy” blog about Sumo).  Songs have been written and sung about him (Watch the “We Love You Sumo” video), countless people have featured Sumo in their Facebook profile pictures, and elaborate escape plans have been made to secure Sumo’s future.

But the road to hell is paved with good prosciutto, and Sumo is a pig that was born with destiny.

Sadly, last Friday Sumo met his last visitor.  He had his last scrap of leftovers given by someone wishing for his freedom.  All Sumo has left are Paolo and Marisa… The people that will, in two months time, help Sumo fulfill his true destiny.

As our 2011 season starts, our kitchen counter will be home to a new prosciutto, and as with every year, there will be returning guests that knew Sumo, knew Jabba, and knew Ramon…  and as with every year, they will quickly get over it as soon as they taste some of the best prosciutto they have ever had.  Prosciutto that can only be the product of months of loving feeding by visiting guests.

There will be a new pig in the pen.  We will assess his personality and give him a name as we do every year.  If he is even half the pig Sumo was, he will be a delight to all.

Sumo, you will be truly missed.

Today I received a tweet from Melanie (Twitter: @italofileblog) at Italofile Blog asking me if I would be part of a mass-effort of Italy-focused bloggers to each provide a list of their five favorite Italian words, along with a brief description citing why each was chosen.

A bunch instantly popped into mind, and as I was thinking of them, I went to look at the post that started the whole thing, which had been written by Jessica (Twitter: @italylogue)of WhyGo ITALY (another fantastic blog) and 2 of the favorites listed there were also among mine (Zanzara and Dai).  Argh!  So I had to think of a few more.  No problem

1. Boh!?  (Bo)

Without question my favorite Italian word, as evidenced in this post of the same title! It means “I don’t know”, but means it with a certain attitude.  It is much more powerful than “I don’t know”, and this is one word I use no matter the language I speak.

It is important that when you speak the word ‘Boh’, you pur your hands out, shrug your shoulders and make a dumbfounded expression by looking up and fattening your lower lip.

Occhio (Eye or Watch Out!)

2. Occhio (Oh-Key-Oh)

Occhio means Eye.  Not so special, especially if you are speaking of someone’s eye.  But it also means ‘Watch Out!!!’, and when used in this sense, especially in a moment of urgency, it is often repeated.  It all comes down to the sound one makes while exclaiming:  Occhio! Occhio! Occhio!  Come on, say it with me:

Oh-Key-Oh-Oh-Key-Oh-Oh-Key-Oh! HOW FUN WAS THAT !?!?!

Now I have some friend from Padova who put their own spin on it thanks to their local accent.  Ready?

Oh-Cho- Oh-Cho-Oh-Cho! Yeah, the entertainment never ends.

3. Pneumatici  (Pah-Nay-Ooh-Mat-Eee-Chee)

Pneumatici (Tires)

Tires.  Yeah, just “Tires”  All of those syllables to learn the word “Tires”.  OK in fairness, the common word for tires is actually “Gomme” (Go-May), but that was the first word I learned, and it stuck forever as the biggest waste of breath ever.

Of course, when I learned the word “Gomme”, I couldn’t help but laugh, because the literal translation is… ready for it?  Rubbers.  “I’d like to buy some rubbers for my car”… “Of course you would, sir”

While I am on the word “Rubbers”, I’ll give one and all fair warning to never try to translate the word PRESERVATIVES without looking it up.  Trust me, it won’t go well.  They will not understand that you are talking about preservatives.  Instead, they will think you are talking about… ummm…  tires.  Yeah, tires :-)  Get it?

4. Burino (Boo-Ree-No)

Burino is, I believe, Roman dialect.   No, it does not mean “little butter”.  It basically translates to “Hick / Hillbilly / Country Bumpkin”, but is used on a much broader scale.   Essentially, whenever someone is so over the top that they become a characterture of whatever stereotype they embody, especially when they are out of their element.

Imagine you are standing on the street and a car drives up that is lowered to within inches of the ground, has shiny metallic paint, a chain-link steering wheel, and a battery of 20” subwoofers blasting from within…  A-Burino!

Get it?  I thought so.

5. Fattoria (Fat-Toh-Ree-Ah)

For the love of God, I have been speaking Italian for 25 years, and to this day something in me refuses to accept that Fattoria is not Italian for Factory.  That it is the word for “Farm” is somehow even more difficult to accept, but there you have it.  Old McDonald had a Fattoria, not a Fabrica (The actual word for Factory).

In Conclusionissimo…

No, that is not a word.  I made it up. The point is, that those are my five.  I have so many more, that I am going to have to do a part due (two) at some point.  I mean, seriously, who doesn’t want to hear what I think of words like “Ginocchio” and “Villano”?  This is important stuff, I tell ya.

In the meantime, the rules of this mass-post thingy request that I also list a few blogs that I think should join in on the fun.  It’s like a chain letter with no payday or risk of bad luck for not participating  So I think Bill and Carol from Our Year in Italy should join in on the fun, since they are my new Italian Neighbors and are learning the lingo.  I would also like to see Danielle from When in Rome Tours write one up, but most of all, I’d like to see Anthony of How to Tour Italy do one, since he seems to have fallen off the face of the planet .

On day one of every cooking vacation we offer, there is a little talk with all of the newly arriving guests.  We go over the things that they can expect, and should not expect.  We discus the plans for the days ahead, and we go over some of the more common cultural faux-pas that guests can avoid as we try to integrate them into Italian culture for their brief time with us.

One of the items on the list that seems to get more resistance than others is that of doggie bags.  It just isn’t done in Italy, and once you understand Italian food culture, you will completely understand why.

Food is Sacred Art

It doesn’t matter if you are eating in the smallest Trattoria or the finest restaurant in the city.  The chef in the kitchen is an artist.  There is no line cook back in the kitchen throwing canned sauce over pre-cooked pasta.  The chef is creating the dish you ordered for you. Your dish is served, not to your liking, but to the liking of the chef.  In other words, this is the chef’s masterpiece,   and he knows how it is to be prepared.  He knows how it is to be cooked, and he knows how it is to be served.  You cannot say your meat is undercooked, because the chef cooked it properly, and he knows better than you.  It is YOU who does not know how to eat properly.  You would not ask for extra sauce, because the proper amount of sauce was used, and you would not send back what you perceive as a cold dish, because you clearly don’t know what temperature this dish must be served at.

Furthermore, telling a chef his food is less than perfect is like telling a mother her child is ugly.  Even a waiter would not normally ask you if your food is good… because the food IS good, of course… and I generally agree.

I know, it sounds like awful service…. really, I used to feel that way.  But it isn’t.  It is art.  The chef put passion into the food, and from his perspective, if you don’t appreciate it, you don’t deserve it.  You must take your mindset away from the American concept of ‘Customer-Focus’ and accept that in Italy, the customer is not right… the food is right.  This is why Italian food in Italy is so incredible.  Someone prepared it with true loving care… really!

You usually won’t see a dish come out that looks like a work of art — you know, the creative swirling drizzle of balsamic vinegar over a neatly stacked arrangement of geometric food shapes…  No, it is pure art of flavor that will arrive.  Each ingredient blended perfectly, cooked precisely, and portioned with care, such that your senses go into overdrive.  And to change that delicate balance by cooking it more, adding extra sauce, or whatever…  well, it would ruin the entire experience.  Really!

While They Were Creating Perfect Recipes, We Were Swinging From Trees

Did I say that food is sacred?  Let me rephrase:  Italian food is sacred, and Italians feel a true sense of pity for the rest of the world, because we are all starving for lack of a decent meal.  No, I’m not kidding.  Furthermore, there is a way to prepare Italian food, a way to eat it, a place to eat it, and a time to eat various dishes.  The combination is something not to be messed with.  So if you are in Italy and Italians talk to you about food (they will), remember the point of view they are coming from:  You are one step removed from the starving children in Africa, and God has graced you with the opportunity to finally have some real food in your life.  Praise be to God.

L’America e Bella, Ma La Fame!

Whenever Italians travel abroad, upon their return you can pretty much guarantee what the first words out of their mouths will be when asked how the trip was.  They all start by uttering these words:  Era bello, ma LA FAME!!!  (It was beautiful, but THE HUNGER!!!).  They then continue for quite some time describing just how awful the food was, how hungry they were, everything they did in their quest for a decent meal, etc.  This invariably segues into a discussion about the pity they feel for those poor people that live there and have to eat that awful food.  How can they possibly eat that junk?  Who knows?  Only then will they actually discuss where they had been.  That is how important food is to an Italian.

I have had people tell put their hand on my shoulder, telling me how fortunate I am to have an Italian wife to cook for me at home.  Of course, I would otherwise starve.  I have had people look at me with a confused daze when discussing various ethnic cuisines, only to finally fire off the most important question of all: What on earth do those people feed their poor children????  After all, they wouldn’t dare give that garbage to an innocent  child, would they?

Food Shall Not Touch Food

Perhaps this will help drive the concept home a bit:  Whether you are eating in a proper restaurant or a roadside truckstop in Italy, food is divided into courses.  Your salad has its own dish.  Your pasta has its dish, your meat has it’s dish, and so on.  You will never, never, never see salad, pasta and meat on the same plate.  To any Italian, that is utterly disgusting, and those of us that find that normal are little more than barely evolved barbarians.  Why?  Because flavors should not mix.  My pasta will be ruined if it comes in contact with the salad!

This is also why food won’t come out together.  Appetizers, 1st Course, 2nd Course, Dessert.  If your meat and pasta come out together, your meat will be cold by the time you finish your pasta.  RUINED!  You could not eat them together, because that would ruin the balance of flavors, of course.  This brings me back to the chef knowing better than you, see?  What do YOU know about the complexities of preparation and delivery?  He is the master and you are a consumer!

Dare Not Argue

You may disagree with these points because you have a different perspective, but this is a cultural reality, and as such, it is right when visiting that culture.  Should you try to sway others into thinking that what the customer wants, the customer should get, any self-respecting Italian will invariably pull out their smoking-gun evidence that proves their point.  Go to any country in the world and drive down the street.  Count the ethnic restaurants and you will always see more Italian restaurants than any other.  Therefore, Italian food is the most appreciated food in the world.  That means they are right.  And I agree!

So What Does a Doggie Bag Say?

Well, knowing what you know now….  how do you think a chef would feel if he knew you wanted to bunch the leftover food into a box, take it home, put it in the fridge, then microwave it the next day?  Or worse… GIVE IT TO YOUR DOG????  For the love of God, this is sacrilege! The pasta will be soggy, the sauce will be mushy and soaked in, ACK!!!  What an offense!  You may as well tell him you will be putting the food in your car’s gas tank!

Face it, the food was prepared to be eaten right there, not warmed up later in a microwave.  To reheat the food later would be offensive to the food itself… It just isn’t done.  So the concept of taking food home in a doggy bag just doesn’t exist, except in the very touristy places.  You can ask, of course.  Tourists do ask, but the concept is utterly foreign.  You may as well ask a waiter nail your leftovers to the wall and paint them.

So please… when in Italy, don’t ask for a doggie bag.

When you split your life between two cultures with two languages, it is quite easy to get trapped in the wrong language from time to time.  I sometimes find myself speaking one language, then suddenly a word or phrase pops out from the other.  I don’t realize it until the person I am speaking with gets that glazed look in their eyes.  It is as though they are suddenly thinking “Did Michael just invent a word?”  ”Is he trying to be cool, throwing Euroslang into his speech?”  ”and why on earth does he keep throwing his arms around as he speaks?”

No… I don’t even realize I am doing it.  Until I see that look, and I get a little embarrassed.  The thing is, that when you are fluent enough in two languages and sufficiently integrated in multiple cultures, certain concepts are better expressed in one language than another.  You don’t actually think about what language you are speaking… you just speak.  So when I have a thought, the easiest way to express that thought is what immediately pops into my head sometimes.  There may be one word in a language that takes a complete sentence to express in another…. so something inside says “This can only be said this way”, and it just pops out.

This is my tribute to a few of these words and phrases between Italian and English.  There are so many more than aren’t coming to mind right now, so if you have others, please leave a comment and let me know!

Boh!?

Boh!?  (Bo)

This may be my favorite word in Italian, which is why it made it into the title of this article. I use this ALL THE TIME in English.  I just cannot help it!  It means “I don’t know”, but being just one little single-syllable, 3 letter word, makes it so utterly perfect.  It is as though being so short and simple, it carries a more definite meaning.  Like “I don’t know, and what kind of idiot are you that you might think I would?”

Cornuto  (Cor-Noo-Toe)

Bob is a Cornuto.  Literal translation:  Bob is horned.  Huh?  Well, what it actually means is “Bob’s wife/girlfriend/significant other is cheating on him”… all in one word: CORNUTO.  Having horns simply means that you are being cheated on, and it can be used several ways.  ”Poor Susan has horns” (She is being cheated on), “John put horns on Jane” (John is cheating on Jane).  It is also used (primarily in the south) as an offense  Cornuto!  As to say “You Cornuto, You!”.  And when you get waaay south, well… Them’s Fightin’ Words!

Uffa (ooh-fah)

I love this word, because I’m really not sure how to translate it into an English word at all!  Imagine you are bored to the point of frustration.  You know that full-exhale-sigh you make?  Maybe you finish it off saying ‘Blah’.  That entire expression can be summed up by the word ‘Uffa’, and if you really deliver the f’s in the middle (uffffffa), you are amping up how strong the feeling is.

Che Palle (Kay-Pall-Ay)

This literally translates to “What Balls”, but the meaning depends entirely on the context, such that these two little words cover quite a bit.

I’m bored: Che Palle!
You are starting to annoy me:  Che Palle!
This is redundant:  Che Palle!
This is bothering me:  Che Palle!
My fingers are starting to hurt while writing this: Che Palle!
Paola is calling me to come downstairs and do something while I am writing this: Che Palle!  :-)

It isn’t considered very nice, but not quite profane.  I would put it on par with using a word like “Damn”.  So, there is a light version of it:  Che Pizza!

Porca Troia!

Porca Miseria (Porca Mee-Sare-Eee-Ah)

For some reason, Italians seem to have some major issues with pigs that might be worth exploring with a collective national psychologist.  They have a full range of exclamations about pigs, and they range from light-hearted to stuff I should not write here.  Yes, we have the classic “You are a Pig” in English, which is to say that you are messy.  But Italians elevate the pig to near demonic status.

Porca Miseria literally translates to “Misery is a Pig”.  It is a very generic exclamation.

I lost my job, porca miseria!
I stubbed my toe, porca miseria!
I forgot to make that reservation, porca miseria!

What makes the pig so fun, is that you can modify the strength of your exclamation by changing the status of that which you are associating with the pig.  For example:

Porca Puttana! ( A Whore is a Pig ) is much stronger than Misery.
Porca Puttanaccia! ( A BAD Whore is a Pig ) is even stronger.

The whole whore thing is quite popular too!  You can use all sorts of words to say whore:  Puttana, Mignotta, Troia, etc.  All work well with “Porca”!

You can get REALLY strong and vulgar by associating the pig with God and the Virgin Mary ( Dio and Madonna ), but that is a major no-no!  However, even they get lightened up to “Porco Due” and “Porca Madosca”… More or less how we go from God to Gosh and Damn to Darn.

The point is, that while these all do translate into something English, I can’t quite explain why, but it is somehow more powerful than the english counterparts, such that I find myself using Porca Miseria all the time, even in English.

Che Fico!  (Kay Fee-Co)

Ok, this simply translates to ‘Cool’, so while it doesn’t really fit into this article, I couldn’t resist.  Why, you ask?  Because the literal translation is What a Fig!.  Can’t you just picture your friend walking up to your brand new car and saying What a fig ?  Ok, I’ll move on…

Ti Voglio Bene ( Tee-Vol-Yo Beh-Nay ) & Ti Amo (Tee-Amo)

They both mean I love you, but the Italian language has different ways of expressing love for your mother, for example, from love for your spouse. Ti Amo literally translates to “I love you”, but if you say it to your mom, well.. Ewww!  That’s sick!!!  That would be getting into Norman Bates territory.   On the other hand, Ti Voglio Bene is properly suited for mom.  It literally translates to “I wish you well”, which I know sounds an extremely weak and borderline insensitive statement for mom, but Ti Amo is reserved exclusively for very serious romantic love, period.  So you will wish well for mom, dad, brothers, sisters, kids, close friends, etc.  You will also wish well for a boyfriend/girlfriend that isn’t nearing the “pop The Question” stage.

Best put, I would say Ti Voglio Bene is like “I Love You”, and Ti Amo is like “I am IN love with you”.

Gattara (Gat-Tara)

Here is one that really isn’t in my vocabulary, but as I stumbled upon it, I couldn’t stop laughing.  You know the stereotype woman that lives alone with cats?  Yeah, you got it… She is a “Gattara”.

The English Language Gets Back with the verb TO GET

Seriously, there are countless words that don’t translate well from Italian to English, and from English into Italian.  Just ask any Italian that speaks English how they felt when they first learned the verb “To Get”.  Better yet, try it yourself!  Try to define every meaning of To Get that you can think of in 5 minutes.  While you do that, I’ll get to the end of this, since it is getting long and I need to get out of here.  If you don’t get what I am saying it, get a life and get over it.  Get it?

So any really interesting ones I missed?  let me know!

We use a ton of Italian words in English.  More than many might think.  Just walk into a Starbucks, and you will probably walk out with something called a ‘LATTE‘ (Be careful asking for it in Italy, since all you will get is milk), and if it was a large, you will have asked for ‘VENTI‘, and you may have a bag with some ‘PANINI‘ as well.
How many time have you said ‘CIAO‘, even though you may have thought it was spelled CHOW?
At the OPERA, might you you yell BRAVO?  OK, all pretty obvious, but the list is actually almost endless!  Magnifico, crescendo, alto, bello/bella, etc.

But how about Italian use of English? Actually, there have been English words used commonly in Italian for ages, but recently it has really picked up, to the point that some call it ANGLITALIANO.  The Italian answer to Spanglish or Chinglish.  There is even a group dedicated on erase it from use, most appropriately called The Dante Alighieri Society.

How many English words exist in Anglitaliano?  Who knows?  But I listed those I could think of, and did about 5 minutes of googlage to see what I could put together.  Have a look.  The words in GREEN are English words that would be commonly understood by many Italians that don’t think they speak a word of English!

OKAY, this WEEKEND I used my COMPUTER and MODEM to go ONLINE to TEST my WEBCAM and EMAIL on the INTERNET with my new ROUTER.  The SERVER SOFTWARE asked for a PASSWORD, then made me DOWNLOAD a FILE.  Perhaps I lack the KNOW-HOW.

Later, I listened to an ALBUM with MUSIC by a BOY BAND, then a CD with BLUES, HIP HOP, GRIND, CORE, some POP STAR, JAZZ and a HIT by a ROCK BAND, but there was a BLACK OUT. WOW!

So I took off my BLUE JEANS and wore a SMOKING. I looked COOL, so went to a SINGLES BAR in a HOTEL that was full of SEXY women and had a COCKTAIL with the MANAGER who called me MISTER. She was BEAUTIFUL, with great MAKEUP and an EXTRA-LARGE T-SHIRT.   She was truly a BEAUTY with a great NEW LOOK.  I saw my EX with her BOYFRIEND who clearly found a BABYSITTER that night..  They deserve their PRIVACY, so I said BYE BYE and went to a PARTY.  Sadly, everyone was a SNOB. I began to feel the STRESS. I had a DRINK, then left for a CLUB to see a BAND I am a FAN of that plays DARK music.  The PERFORMANCE was SOLD OUT.. every TICKET!

Fortunately, I had a VOUCHER, so the STAFF let me in. OH YEAH! After the SHOW, there was a SUPER DEEJAY that had clearly been DOPING, and is probably on WELFARE.

Later I was hungry, so I got on my SCOOTER and went to a PUB, but I couldn’t decide between a HOT DOG, SANDWICH or a HAMBURGER, so ended up having a SNACK of  CRACKERSwhile watching some SPORT on the TV, followed by a TALK SHOW, a FILM, and a REALITY SHOW.

The following day, I went to the gym to do some SPINNING, JOGGING (or FOOTING) and BODY BUILDING before playing some TENNIS. Later, I took a car with lots of SEX APPEAL and a big STICKER for a TEST DRIVE, but it broke down at the STOP, and smelled of GAS. Maybe it was all the SMOG?  So I had to take it to the GARAGE.  Finally, after a little SHOPPING, I had a PICNIC for lunch with my BUSINESS PARTNER who shared some GOSSIP and NEWS about a friend with a HANDICAP that became a KILLER by giving someone’s PACEMAKER a SHOCK.  I thought about it and simply replied: NO COMMENT. It’s not a SCOOP, and has nothing to do with our PARTNERSHIP.  All I wanted was a BRIEFING and possible BRAINSTORMING about a new LOCATION for our BOOK SHOP, as well as our BUDGET and new SLOGAN. You know, a MARKETING MEETING.

That night I went to a BED AND BREAKFAST that was really nothing more than a LOFT with a BIG OPEN SPACE, instead of a RESORT.  After all, that is the latest TREND.  I read a FICTION, and went to sleep. GOOD NIGHT!

So how many “Anglitaliano” words can be drummed up in a single blog post?  Who knows?  Maybe this one is the LEADER and breaks a RECORD?

Like a fine wine or a great cigar, those who know their coffee are extremely discriminating.  I count myself among them.  Coffee is something I take very seriously.Technorati: VA2TJVJYZX67

Depending on the style of coffee, completely different factors come into play when determining the quality.  For example, if I were to rate a cup of American coffee, I would talk about the perfect blend of Arabica beans that, in my opinion, would include carefully proportioned percentages of beans from Ethiopia, Central America, and Sumatra.  

The beans would have to be roasted with a specific profile, to a certain darkness, and it would be brewed between 24 and 48 hours of roasting by a specific machine at just the right temperature.  But all of the rules that apply to American coffee mean nothing when it comes to espresso.  So I thought I would jot down what I have learned when it comes to one of Italy’s most celebrated exports.

The Standard of Quality

To begin, what does a great cup of espresso look and taste like? I’ll start by saying that it is universally accepted that the best espresso can be found in Naples, Italy.  To contrast that, I can honestly say that have have never had an even remotely acceptable espresso in the United States.

Keep it Short

You may be used to the concept of a ‘Single Shot’ or ‘Double Shot’ of espresso.  Even the most coffee-challenged Italian will tell you that what we consider to be a ‘single shot’, is far too much.  An espresso should measure in a standard espresso cup roughly 1 1/2 fingers.  While you may think that such a short cup will be too strong, the truth is that when the espresso is pulled, that is were the flavor is.  If you were to pull the cup away after 1 1/2 fingers, then place another cup in, the remainder of the coffee that comes out is extremely bitter.  In fact, the perfect espresso will be strong, but never bitter.

It Should Be Creamy and Silky

When you sip an espresso, let it roll on your tongue fo a second.  A good espresso will almost coat your taste buds as it goes down.  The flavors will be very complex and while it is very thin, it will have a very creamy texture to it.  The perfect expresso will have flavors and sensations that almost contradict one another.  A bad espresso will feel like extremely strong and bitter American coffee; it will completely lack texture and complexity.

Don’t be Fooled by Crema

We have been conditioned to believe that if the espresso has a thin layer of froth, it must be good.  While a great espresso will always have the crema, the crema does not mean it is good.  Most modern espresso machines are designed to produce crema no matter what.  It has become a marketing thing for them… Produces great crema! But the coffee may still be trash.

What You Drink it In is as important as What You Drink

Drinking espresso out of a paper or plastic cup is no different than eating a Filet Mignon with plastic utensils on a paper towel.  You may do it if you are desperate, but it certainly is never your choice.  Plastic and paper cups completely change the flavor, such that even the best espresso will taste like junk.  A ceramic cup is the most common and widely accepted container, but it is not optimal.  The perfect espresso is served in a shot glass.  Believe me, it really does make a difference.  When you are in Italy, you will almost always have your espresso served in a ceramic cup, but utter two magic words when you order, and you will not only get it in a shot glass, but you will likely get a nod of respect.  The two words are ‘Al Vetro’.  Simply say ‘Caffe Al Vetro’ and you will get it in just about any bar in Italy.

How the Perfect Espresso is Made

So far I have talked about what to look for and pitfalls to avoid, but what makes an espresso from one bar better than another?  Or why is espresso typically better in Naples than Rome?  There are several factors:

The Beans

Remember when I said that the best American coffee is made with Arabica beans from certain countries?  The rules are different for espresso.  The other type of coffee bean is called Robusta.  It is actually a very cheap bean that is considered to be very low quality.  However, while it is only present in the worst American coffees (Folgers, Maxwell House, etc.), it must be in the blend for espresso.  Without it, your espresso will be missing all of its kick.

The Roasting

Roasting a bean for espresso is a very delicate process.  What we consider a very dark roast is still too light for espresso.  But if you ever have the opportunity to watch coffee beans roast, there is a critical moment, during which the beans go from extremely dark to burned.  It is almost a split second, but the moment it goes too far, the coffee loses all of its flavor.  Because of this, it is very easy to get a bad roast.  So high quality espresso comes at a premium because of the difficulty, and low quality is very common.

The Delay

Coffee goes bad very quickly, no matter how much you freeze it, vacuum pack it, or otherwise.  A high-volume bar that gets good locally roasted coffee will always have an advantage.  The stuff you get at Starbucks has long since gone stale.

The Machine

No matter how muh you try, no matter how much you spend, and no matter how fancy your home espresso machine is, it will never make a great espresso, period.  You can spend $10,000 on a professional grade machine, and you will still get substandard espresso.  It is all about how much it is used.  A bar that pulls 1,000 espressos a day will always have an advantage over one that pulls 500, so your fancy machine that pulls one or two a day doesn’t stand a chance.  Of course water temperature and pressure are major factors that will make a huge difference for those of you that spent $10,000 on the professional machine, but you better be ready to turn it on an hour early and prime it for a while before pulling an espresso to drink

The Water

Now here is a place where a small thing you can do will make a world of difference.  I often wondered why espresso was so different from city to city in Italy.  I finally asked a professional roaster, and he told me that if he would take the same machine and the same coffee, it would always be significantly better in Naples, more bitter in Rome, less full-bodied in Florence, etc.  Then he proceeded to tell me every nuance of the water in these places.  But since I only really cared to know why Naples was so good, it all boiled down to the fact that the water in Naples is slightly effervescent and has a high mineral content.  He told me that if I were to buy naturally carbonated mineral water (not San Pellegrino), that it would be much closer to that of Naples, even in a home machine.

We did it.  In our little personal Gaggia Espresso Machine, we began to use high quality coffee with mineral water instead of tap water.   I won’t lie and say it even comes close to what I get at a typical Naples bar, but our home coffee experience suddenly got significantly better.

That said, I’m afraid the only truly perfect espresso requires a trip back to Naples.  If you go, don’t forget to have the pizza, and bring me back some Buffalo Mozzarella while you’re at it!

Rotolo Rose

An amazing rolled pasta with cheese, Besciamelle and prosciutto dish my mother-in-law in Italy used to make on Sundays every once in a while. When we knew Rotolo Rose was for lunch, nobody was ever late… period!

Translation
Rolled Pasta with Prosciutto, Besciamelle & Cheese
 

Ingredients

• 4 slices of lasagna dough
• 5 large slices of ham
• 12 kraft slices cheese (white)
• Besciamelle
• 100 gr.(1/2 cup) parmesan cheese
• ½ lt. fresh heavy cream

Directions
Use a large pot. Fill it ¾ of the way with water. Add salt and oil. Bring to boil. Cook the lasagna sough with care, making sure not to break the slice. After about 4 minutes, remove from the water and let it dry on a clean linen towel. Shred one slice of ham with your fingers and place it loosely on the dough. .Repeat this process with 3 slices of cheese. Sprinkle some besciamelle sauce (recipe below) on it. Add Parmesan cheese. Now roll the dough and cover it tight with saran wrap (clear plastic film). Place in the fridge. When ready to bake, spread some butter on a baking tray. Cut the rolls in slices about 1.5 cm (½ inch) thick and place them in the baking dish. Pour the heavy cream on it and sprinkle some more Parmesan cheese. Bake in the oven at 250 C for about 15m or until golden. Remove from the oven and let it rest for about 4 minutes. Serve warm.

*Besciamelle Sauce*

•100 grams (3 ounces) of butter
•100 grams. (4 tbsp) of flour
•1liter of milk (1 quart)
•Salt
•Nutmeg

Place the butter in a non stick sauce pan and let it melt at low heat. Add the flour using a whisk. Don’t let lumps form. Warm the milk and add it slowly the flour and butter using a wooden spoon or a whisk. Return to low heat and bring to boil. Add a pinch of salt and a sprinkle of nutmeg. Stir often for about 15m.. Remove from heat and let cool.

“My daughter speaks perfect English. After all, she spent a month in England with a native family”. That was the quote that caused me to simply give up, and it speaks volumes about Italian culture and the denial so many of them live in.

It happened this past October. I was in a local barber shop in Soriano nel Cimino. The barber was telling me of the frustrations he had been experiencing as he tried to communicate with the American tourists that t=started coming over the past few years. They would come into the shop, looking for a haircut, but he had difficulty communicating with them. After all, he doesn’t speak a word of English, and it certainly helps to know what kind of cut your customer desires.

I certainly understood, and promptly offered to help him. I explained that I would create a list of common (and not so common) terms that a barber would need to use, along with their Italian translations. He could simply give the sheet of paper to customers and solve most of his problems. I had done similar things for local restaurants, an ice cream stand, etc.

Imagine my surprise when he declined the offer. He explained that he had been asking his daughter to do such a list for him, but she lives far away, is busy, and has had no time. He explained that his daughter had studied English in school, and was therefore fluent in English. I explained to him that while she may have excellent English skills, it was highly unlikely that she would have many barber shop terms in her vocabulary. After all, what are the chances that she learned ‘buzz cut’ or ‘mullet’ in her studies?
I continued to explain that he had an American sitting in the chair, and while his daughter may be fluent in English, it could never be at my level, since it is my mother tongue. Additionally, I was there, ready to help, and he had said that she had no time to help him.

That is when he delivered the line. His daughter speaks perfect English because she spent a month in England. At that point, it becomes clear that there is no sense in continuing, but it illustrates a reality in Italian culture.

As visitors travel Italy, they invariably notice that signs, menus, notices, etc. are translated so poorly that they are all but incomprehensible. This isn’t limited to barber shops and little local businesses. The problem exists in government, major corporations; just about anywhere you see English translations. You see it in airports, major hotels, government websites… everywhere!

It’s the pride. Why have a non-Italian do a translation when we have a daughter, or a cousin, or a friend who claims to speak perfect English? It may spill over into the belief that the native-English speaking person can’t possibly do as good a job because they may not understand the nuances of Italian. I really don’t know.

Here is another great example: Soriano nel Cimino’s tourist board has a website, of course. Have a look at their home page . If that isn’t enough, keep digging on the site and try to read it. The kicker here is that for two years I have been offering to fix it for them… for free. I even went so far as to re-translate the site for them, and e-mail them a list of the mistakes with the changes they need to make. That was more than a year ago. I have explained to them in person why “The lucky hilly position” makes no sense in English. I explained how “the ideal place where to spend” is grammatically offensive. Did they change it? Why not? Nobody will tell, but I think it might hurt someone’s pride, so it is better to live in denial.

OK, I just felt like venting. I’m done for now.

I’ve been back in Los Angeles for a week now, and last night we went to an Italian restaurant for dinner for the first time since I got back.  This may not seem like a big deal, but for us it is always a tragedy.

The restaurant was Pomodoro in Woodland Hills.  I don’t want to say it is a bad place by American standards.  Actually, it is one of the better chains.  It is just that I was in Italy having the real thing a week ago, and by those standards, even the best place in the states simply stinks.

To give you an example of what I mean, let me go back about a month.  I was having a mega craving for roasted chicken and roasted potatoes.  In the states, we would generally call it Tuscan chicken, since it is generally a central Italian thing.  In Soriano, there is a place that makes roasted chicken and potatoes that are to die for, and this craving I was having needed to be addressed.

We decided to go to a place called Rosti in Westlake Village.  It is a tiny chain of just 4 restaurants.  We had been there in the past many times, and it had always been good.  In fact, it has always been the closest thing to real central Italian food we had ever eaten in the states.  The problem was that I was craving the real thing, not the ‘closest thing’.  I had the memory of Italy in my head, not the memory of a cheap imitation of Italy.

So we go to Rosti and order Caprese, followed by roasted chicken and potatoes.

The Caprese was a disaster.  But t wasn’t their fault… it was ours.  We had the memory of the real thing.  Caprese is pretty simple… it is hard to mess up.  I mean, Mozzarella, Tomato, basil, and oil… How hard can it be?  The problem is that the tomatoes we get here in L.A. taste like water, not tomatoes.  The mozzarella is never fresh, and even at best, it has absolutely no flavor. So in the end, you get something that looks like Caprese, but tastes like nothing.

Then came the main course.  The plate looked awesome!  There were my potatoes and my roasted chicken… Yummmmm!!!  That is, until my knife hit the chicken.  It didn’t feel right.  When I tasted it, I suddenly frowned and wondered how they got the chicken flavor out of the chicken.  Then I tried the potatoes, and I could feel the effects of the microwave used to heat them in my mouth.  I was devastated.  It was like craving an In n’ Out burger and settling for a Big Mac.  The problem was that this is as good as it gets.  The only way to satisfy the craving was 8.000 miles away.  Why can’t we make decent Italian food here?

Actually, it is our own fault.  We live in a move ‘em in and move ‘em out country. It starts with the farmers and ends with your meal.  The farmers mass produce everything, having to make a bigger tomato that gets to the market faster so they can grow more tomatoes.  Technology gets us bigger and cheaper tomatoes faster than ever. The price of this is flavor.  The chicken ranchers are replaced by chicken ‘mills’ that pump them full of hormones, giving us bigger chickens than ever.  They are big and cheap, so who will notice that they don’t actually taste like chickens?  

As we walk into restaurants they take our orders as soon as possible and deliver us our food as quickly as possible.  We mistake this for good and fast service, but it isn’t that at all.  In fact, they want us in and out quickly so they can get reuse your table as many times as possible that evening.  But food just doesn’t cook that fast, now does it?  So they have to precook as much as possible.  They can’t waste the time and energy to make things from scratch, so they buy the majority of what you eat in frozen form from a huge distributor.  Food is prepped quickly and reheated so that they can use fewer people in the kitchen with higher efficiency, all the while getting your order to you in lightning speed. 

The process is beautiful, and the only thing you lose along the way is flavor.   But even that is ok, since we are preconditioned to think that is the way it is supposed to be.

Then we wonder why the Italian food is so much better in Italy.  Go figure!