Italians love (Italian) food. After weddings they talk about the food with no mention of the dresses or flowers. After vacations you seldom hear about the people, places or things. If the trip was in Italy, you hear about the great food. And if it wasn't in Italy, you hear about the terrible food.
I shouldn't have been surprised last month when I told my Italian friends I was expecting visitors and their only question was, "What are you going to cook?" There was no interest in my guests' origin, the length of their stay or what we'd planned on visiting. The only concern was the menu.
Likewise, my friends shouldn't have been surprised when I answered, "I'm not cooking." Since a common Italian belief is that all Americans put ketchup on pasta, they should have been happy my guests would be spared such an atrocity. After all, they were guests in Italy. No one's ever said, "when in Rome, do as the expatriates."
Last week I went to a potluck dinner. One dish was some kind of flaky crust spread with a combination of cheeses and topped with prosciutto and sesame seeds. Then there was cold pasta with pesto and cherry tomatoes, cold rice with tuna, a cold omelette with zucchini and Delores' Delicious Dill Dip. Seeing that there are no Italians named Delores, you can guess who brought the dip.
Unfortunately, at the dinner the women sat at one end of the table and the men at the other. At the women's end they (not we) talked a lot about food. I thought they were just being nice when they asked about the ingredients in the dip. But when they asked if I'd made the mayonnaise, I'd had enough. I hadn't asked if they'd gone fishing for the tuna or raised the chickens that laid the eggs. Did they really think I'd made the mayonnaise?
That was my cue to excuse myself and head to the men's end where they were more interested in Delores than her dip's ingredients. When they asked for more I told them that their wives had licked the platter clean...first with the vegetables, then with a spoon and then with some bread for the hard to reach dip in the corners. When I offered the omelette and the rest of the rice they declined.
The icing on the cake (even though most classic Italian cakes are frosted with a mere dusting of powdered sugar) for the ethnocentric Italians is US News & World Report's ranking of Italy as the country with the greatest food. The judges have apparently never been to a potluck dinner to see the giant plate of rice krispie treats (butter, rice krispies and marshmallows) devoured while the expensive tray of Italian pastries makes its third trip around the table.
It's time to stop attending Italian dinners with such trepidation. With a little (store-bought) mayonnaise and some marshmallows it's not hard to be the "bella" of the ball.
P.S. If you have an easy American recipe, please send it to the address below. I'm running out of clinchers. Grazie!
