As Thoughts on the Table approaches 100 episodes, I chose to dedicate episode 99 to the series’ beginnings, dating back to August 2013. I was an avid podcast listener and, inspired by great productions like This American Life and Stuff You Should Know, I involved my friend and then-coworker, Jason, and branched off from my blog to try the more colloquial format of a podcast.
Today’s issue contains extracts from the first six episodes where Jason and I discuss taste and flavor, as well as cultural differences between Italy, North America, and Japan. Among other topics, we touched on why as an Italian I would never try to put salt on pasta, whether eating spicy food can damage our taste buds, the reason why desserts tend to end the meal, why many people learn to appreciate “spoiled” foods like Gorgonzola and Nattō, what exactly astringency is, and the path to appreciating subtle flavors. To wrap up the selection, I couldn’t help but include extracts from episode seven, a recording that took place right in the center of Milan on Jason’s impressions from visiting Italy for the first time.
After these seven episodes, Jason could no longer continue as a co-host. So I started looking for a new podcast partner by enlisting some of my dearest blogger friends as collaborators. This eventually gave me the idea to turn the podcast towards the format of the interview. I enjoyed it a lot. With practice, I learned to connect with my guests in a way that would capture their spontaneity in entertaining and informative chats, and I made many lasting connections as a result, for which I’m grateful. My guests included food bloggers, writers, cookbook authors, chefs, food professionals, food photographers, event organizers, cooking instructors, and fellow podcasters. Overall, in nearly nine years of activity, Thoughts on the Table saw a total of 65 collaborators for a combined playback time of 39 hours, 19 minutes, and 13 seconds.
Another year! The good news is that this blog is still active and luckily keeps being found by those searching for Italian specialties like pizzoccheri or canederli or Italian misconceptions like my 6 Italian myths. The bad news of course is that I haven’t posted any new articles or recipes this year. I know, it’s terrible – but it’s also okay, given that social media has taken the place of blogging in many ways.
But I did resume podcasting (yay!) and produced 16 new episodes with as many guests and collaborations this past year! This continues to be a lot of fun for me and I’ve already started to work on a new round of episodes to hopefully reach my dream milestone of 100 episodes very soon!
Here is a list of the episodes this year. Thanks again to all of my wonderful guests!
On a personal level, we keep well here in southern England, still working from home and enjoying plenty of homecooked food. We pretty much spend our time planning meals, cooking, cleaning the kitchen, and being grateful for having a dishwasher. As the government lifted all social distancing measures exactly two weeks ago, we are far from back to normal, unfortunately. Traveling is still not really possible, including to and from Italy which of course breaks our hearts. But we enjoy our area, which is wonderfully green after a very wet summer, and spending time with our cat Rascal, who just turned 19, overall doing great and still a great source of comfort and inspiration to us both.
I hope you’re all well, wherever you are, and please get in touch for collaborations, to be on the podcast, or just to say hi – I’d love that 🙂
In this episode, Thoughts on the Table goes back to its quintessential nature: investigate the difference in food and food culture between Italy and North America.
My new partner in this journey is the multi-talented Sim Salis (radio host, writer, voice actor, video and podcast producer.)
For the first time in this blog, I have the pleasure to feature a guest post. This article is by enologist, writer, and photographer Melinda King. To know more about Melinda, check out The Premise of Italian Cuisine podcast.
Melinda King
Italian culture is special in ways that are delicately combined, tangible and intangible. It would be impossible to disconnect Italian culture from the topic of Italian food, and the entire nation is formed by connections of things grown and eaten. Eating evokes emotional, memory, sensory, spiritual, and gustatory reactions, which are born from chemistry and imagination. This is a proud food system made from thousands of years of place-specific combinations; exceptional raw ingredients, combined and shared at tables, are traded in markets and perfected with love. Italian flavors are a stunning collection of colorful stories that grow from field to city, within regions—after all, the country was a collection of nation-states until unification in 1861. The subject of authenticity is constant to hungry Italians, who does it best, according to the way it is supposed to be done. Although they are talented innovators, tradition is the mark of excellence and respect. Thus, we are left to wonder: what is Italian food? What is Italian? Now, the country that has been a historical crossroads is asking serious questions about identity. Thoughts on the Table is the brilliant work of a worldly Italian (Paolo Rigiroli) who is brave enough to explore these themes. What Italians eat (and how), he reminds us, is every bit who they are.
And it is the Italians who have the hardest time answering these queries. The food is a source of incredible comfort and passion, and it is very difficult to reach conclusions. In an effort to distill one singular definition for the entirety of “Italian food,” one might say it is agriculture. This reminds us that the cuisine is an honorable and humble form of hard work. It is the superlative expression of microclimate, microbiology, and sunshine. It is the Italian people, respecting the gifts of their land, who proceed to turn wheat fields into toothsome vermicelli, lemons to acrid limoncello, winter cabbage into soothing ribollita, and 140-kg pigs into rose-leather prosciutto. Wine is further example of Italian agricultural genius.
How is it possible to organize such an enormous, magnificent topic? Taking into consideration so many places, dialects, seasons, and details, what is Italian food, and where does it come from? Are we being too precious about what we eat? Does place truly matter? And how can an entire nation be world-known such a thing as flavor?
Recently, a friend of mine traveled to Rome, and wanted to buy a bottle of “authentic” Italian olive oil, to take with him back to Sweden. He found a large store, and assumed it would be a simple purchase. He tells me that it took forty minutes for him to decide on a single bottle, after asking three employees for help and making various searches on his cell phone. “There were so many bottles!” he exclaimed. “So many oils, from so many places, and so many different prices! Why do they do this?” In the end, he bought the smallest one, and left. Italy is very proud of its products, and olive oil is an incredibly critical topic. I imagine my friend saw bottles from Puglia, Veneto, Sicilia, Toscana, and Umbria, at the least, as each claims its olives to be the best. There are then the categories of oils (virgin, extra virgin, cold press, organic, biodynamic, gold label, etc.) and sizes (1 oz. flavored with pepperoncini or truffle) to 5 kg. The oils are sacred to the places they come from, and one would use local oil for local dishes. Moreover, every Italian olive has different compounds (peppery, golden, green, honey, smoky, juniper), that is tied to the environment it was grown and processed in. Hundreds of such compounds have been identified which contribute to the distinctive organoleptic characteristics that make Italian olive oil so exceptional.
Added to that, there are currently some issues in the worldwide olive oil industry, as origin is not easy to certify. Olives may be grown in Tunisia, and bottled in Spain. California olive oils companies used to quietly fly their products to southern Italy, where the plane would touch down and fill with gas, only to return to California for sale. This meant the oil bottles could be labeled with the words “From Italy.” Confusion is rampant in the marketplace, considering the brand of Italian foods.
How can Italian food protect and promote itself, and guarantee quality? This is important, more than ever, with the increasing global economy—and with new technologies (it is easier to mass produce foods, or copy ones already existing). What about Italian traditions? The individual state governments of Europe have, for the past few decades, been dealing with these issues within their own cultures. How to protect the integrity of Bulgarian cheeses, Greek wine, or German blood sausage? Italy was the second country, after France, to take action on certifying its natural food products. It was both a post-war reaction to economic and land issues, as well as a way to acknowledge the most important pieces of lifestyle. European states have since cooperated under the umbrella of the European Union, recognizing one another’s specialized products. Italy has been a tremendous example in this movement, to certify traditions in and out of its borders.
This does not mean that Italy published a list of official foods. Protected status does not cover lasagna and tiramisu. The topic is Geographical Indications (GI), and means that certain food products are trademarked as Italian, and cannot be impersonated or misrepresented. To be certified, the item must have a specific place of origin, a historically documented meaning, and production methods that adhere to exact steps and standards. They are the ingredients (animal products, herbs, fruits, vegetables, legumes, and dairy products) that make Italian food “Italian,” that they are raised in Italy, by Italians, where taste represents what cannot be verbalized. It is also a way to maintain identity, while earning a decent income. This applies to small-time producers, as well as the entire industries.
Geographical indications (GIs) is a legal status, represented with a visual package or label symbol, that identify a food as having originated from a specific place where a given attribute, reputation, or other characteristic of that good is attributable to its geographical home. GIs act like a trademark–once established, they confer certain exclusive rights to the owner. Unlike other intellectual property rights (patents, trademarks, copyrights), GIs are owned collectively by all producers in a region, rather than by an individual or a single company.
Note: there are Geographical indications are over the world (China, India, Sweden, Australia, South Africa, etc.). The United States is currently trying to garner support for their own system of GI (Georgia peaches, Idaho potatoes, California avocados), but the reputations of such products, and a strong system of capitalism, prevents the need for place/product protection. This article seeks to concentrate on the Italian context.
France was the first to certify national butter, cheese, and wine products (Appellation d’Origine Contrôlée, AOC). Roquefort cheese was regulated by a parliamentary decree in the year 1411; the modern system was reinstated in France in 1919. Italians followed with their own GI organization, post-war, as a way of naming and protecting cultural property within a delicate economic structure. Geographical indications were created by the European Union with Regulation 2081/921, seeking to solve communication problems between and within countries, for consumers and producers, while promoting rural development. Italian GI goods earned €15.2 million in production value in 2018, contributing 18% of the national agricultural economy.
There are 550 Sicilian growers certified for Sicilian arancia rossa (blood red oranges, IGP); each farm cultivates the same three arancia rossa varieties (there are three) according to the same rules, and is overseen and organized by a central ruling body called a consorzio. Each consorzio reports to the Ministero delle Politiche Agricole Alimentari, Forestali e del Turismo (MIPAAF), (Ministry of Agricultural, Food and Forestry Policies). These fruits are monitored by the Italian government, and have protection within the European Union.
The GI system has broad and precise stated objectives:
To promote foods, beverages, and wines with specific characteristics, particularly those coming from less-known or rural areas;
To improve the income of farmers who make “genuine effort to improve quality”;
Sustaining populations in rural areas;
Providing clear and “not-misleading” information to consumers regarding product origin;
Preserving cultural and historical identity.
Place-defined products connect value between food and territory, thus guaranteeing the quality for which a consumer pays a premium. The idea is to further prevent unwanted third parties from using terms, tactics, and marketing that mislead and misrepresent. Italian pride and livelihoods remain in the balance.
There are currently three European Union schemes for geographic preservation:
The EU Protected Geographical Status logos. [Fair use of copyrighted logos]
Protected Designation of Origin (PDO, red symbol): the entire product must be traditionally and entirely manufactured (prepared, processed and produced) within the specific region.
Protected Geographical Indication (PGI, blue symbol): the entire product must be traditionally and at least partially manufactured (prepared, processed or produced) within the specific region.
Traditional Specialties Guaranteed (TSG): food must be of “specific character” and either the raw materials, production method, or processing must be done in exact area (consistent for a minimum of 30 years).
The PDO logo applied on “Val di Non” apples, which are coincidentally brand-named ‘Melinda’.) [Photo by Melinda King]
Gorgonzola DOP sold in the United Kingdom, branded with both the PDO and the Consorzio logos.
Protected Italian Foods
Many of the GI items are known to anyone interested in Italian eating. The names of these items are synonymous with the places they come from, and the name alone acts as an Italian ambassador. Some of the expected items on the list: PDO Chianti Classico olive oil, PDO Lago di Garda olive oil, PDO Mortadella, Asiago cheese, PDO Basilico Genovese (think pesto), PDO Mozzarella di Bufala Campana, IGP Nocciola Piemonte (hazelnuts famed for chocolates).
Still, most of the items may be called peculiar or even uninteresting to those outside the places they are made. Some unexpected items: IGP Acciughe sotto sale del Mar Ligure (anchovies), IGP Carota dell’Altopiano del Fucino (“A carrot? That’s not sexy!”), Pane di Matera (specialized bread loaves from the Sassi cave town), three kinds of saffron, IGP Bresaola della Valtellina (dried horse meat is highly esteemed), four kinds of asparagus (Bassano, especially), five kinds of lemons, eight kinds of chestnuts, Bergamotto di Reggio Calabria essential oil, Kiwi Latina (an Italian kiwi? Yes, and it is magnificent!). Of course, this country is always surprising.
Asparagus, unexpected IGP. [Phtoto by Melinda King]It is quite common to see the PDO or IGP acronym in a restaurant or gelateria, where the pride of place ingredients is translated to the consumer, as a promise of something real and delicious to be had. And with the force of 0 KM eating, Slow Foods, Bio, Organic, and artisanal products, GI label status is not only economic, but “cool.”
The Italian McDonald’s featuring IG products. [Screenshot from www.mcdonalds.it]
Cin Cin
Italian wines have an exceptional portion of Geographical Indications to endorsement. GI wines are a vital element, though controversial, in the business and character of Italian winemaking. Autochthonous (native) grapes represent distinctive zones and methods of viticulture, each with unique climactic features. Nerello Mascaelese is a grape that only grows on Mount Etna, in Sicily; this grape is authorized as one of the grapes to be used in the Etna DOC red wine. Nerello Mascalese has been growing in this place for centuries. Popular international varieties such as Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon, or Syrah need no protection–nor do they have such a significant history, cultivation, or sensory connection to Italian soil.
In 1964, Italy established a series of laws to safeguard the brilliance and authenticity of their wines. The directives define wines by characteristics such as: type of grape(s) used, alcohol content, bottling, labeling, how long the wine is aged, how and when to harvest, who can work the fields, machinery and tools, irrigation, naming, and sales promotions. In the last decades, several modifications and changes have been made to original legislation, as the numbers of wines and regions grow to the list. The last addition, made in 2010, established four basic categories that read consistent with concurrent European Union wine regulations (2008-2009) — Italian wines GIs are categorized as:
Vini (also known as ‘generic/table wines’): wines can be produced anywhere in the territory of the EU, label includes no certain indication of place origin (of grape varieties used or vintage); only the wine color is required to be listed on the bottle label (“Tavernello” often ‘house wine’). In some cases, however, table wines can have very high quality and be sought by connoisseurs that don’t need any official certifications (‘Super Tuscans’).
Vini Varietali (Varietal Wines): generic wines that derive mostly (at least 85%) from one kind of certified ‘international (grown in many places)’ grape variety (Cabernet Franc, Cabernet Sauvignon, Chardonnay, Merlot, Sauvignon Blanc, Syrah) or entirely from two or more of them; grape used or vintage may be shown on the label (e.g. “Merlot-Raboso” blend from Veneto).
IGP (‘Protected Geographical Indication’ also known as IGT: ‘Typical Geographical Indication’): wines produced in a specific territory within Italy that follow precise regulations on allowed varieties, growing and vinification practices, organoleptic and chemical/physical characteristics, labeling instructions, among others (e.g. “Toscana IGT”).
DOP (‘Protected Designation of Origin’) which includes two classes:
DOC (Controlled Designation of Origin) These wines must have been IGP wines for at least 5 years, and generally come from smaller regions within a certain IGP territory; far stricter regulations and focus on territorial personalities; a DOC wine can be promoted to DOCG after 10 years.
DOCG (Controlled and Guaranteed Designation of Origin) In addition to fulfilling DOC requisites, DOCG wines meet tighter analyses before going to market; they must also demonstrate a superior commercial value, and are linked with historical development.
Currently, there exist 332 DOCs (e.g. “Aleatico di Gradoli DOC”) and 73 DOCGs (e.g. “Amarone della Valpolicella DOCG”) bringing total to 405 DOPs. The financial aspects of the wine GI are momentous; a single bottle of DOCG Brunello di Montalcino can sell for up to $550. A scandal shook the Brunello consorzio in 2008 (known as “Brunellopoli”), where select winemakers were suspect for mixing lower quality wine grapes from other regions with local Sangiovese. Vineyards were quarantined and hundreds of thousands of bottles seized by authorities, facing millions of dollars in fines and years in prison. The issue was potential violation of GI purity rules, written by the Brunello Consorzio ruling body, and approved by the Italian Agricultural Ministry. Charges were ultimately dropped, and agreements to reinforce production principles were made between the Consorzio and winemakers.
I spent a number of years working in a wine business in California. When customers asked about Italian wines, they asked for wines by company or grape. Furthermore, their purchase decisions were generally based on price; customers were fascinated anytime I gave them a back story to the makers of the wine, the place it was made, or the types of grapes used. A wine was Chianti or Prosecco, but they did not know why. I would point to the labeling below the cork, when appropriate—if the bottle had the DOC or DOCG certification. “So the government says this wine is the best?” they would ask. No, I would shake my head and give a brief description of what GI represents. “Oh,” they would continue, “so the Italian government says this wine is the best?” they would repeat. Every time.
No, the government has no sensory opinion on the wines being made. This is a label that a company pays for, in a group with other companies in the same place, in order to show you, the consumer, that they mean business. The bottle of Vino Nobile di Montepulciano comes from vineyard lands that were budding vines hundreds of years before the pilgrims even built their boat. That is what the GI system would like us to remember. Currently, I am working in a vineyard/winery on Mount Etna, in Sicily. The DOC here is exceedingly proud of its work, and place (terra) is the language spoken in every glass. The soil changes from sandy to limestone, then lava rock, within a few meters, and vines stand fierce tests of weather and volcano. Add the salt of the sea and the shine of the sun, and it makes for an extraordinary natural beverage. The GI labels struggle to describe these things to an American wine shopper: philosophy of terra in an island borough founded by Greek settlers in 734 B.C.E.
Although GIs may promote a food or wine’s reputation, the level of quality is not guaranteed above similar food items. The perception of GIs is a matter of personal consumer taste and company/brand marketing, and this is an important concept to understand. For example, there may be six options of lemons at the local market. Two are certified GI status, from Siracusa (Sicilia) and Sorrento (Campania), and one from Spain. The other three, local fruits, do not list variety, but are stamped with the farm and city of origin. The GI status lemons cost twice as many Euros per kilo. Would you choose a locally made lemon, a higher priced GI, or the least expensive Spanish one?
How much sway does GI play, in the eyes of a shopper? Does it shift our priorities–taste preference, price, or place of being picked? Would you scrimp on lemons but splurge on cheese? How is this any different from brand name luxury Italian Gucci, Ferrari, or Armani? Normal people buy according to experience and reputation. If it works, they buy again. Italy, itself, has become a brand. The Italian GI is represented on the food or drink label with a small circular symbol (red and yellow or blue and yellow, depending on legal status), so we see as we buy. But these certifications are very expensive, and they require a long and thorough vetting process.
The symbol on the food (package, container, box, fruit seal, or wine label) will tell the buyer that it was made in according to the tradition of the area, by people who live there, with local or regional resources, in Italy by Italians. It will taste the way it is supposed to taste, according to history of the place, made flavorful by unique environmental conditions that only that place can provide. Terra, confirms that balsamic vinegar from Modena can only come from Modena. In this case, the Balsamic Vinegar Consorzio is a nearly secret society of older gentlemen who speak very little and carry out regular chemical “alchemical” analysis with small glass pipets and sensorial tastings. They meet in quiet rooms, and keep careful records. But they are extremely exclusive, and there is worry that the Modena vinegar community will soon disappear. It is not easy to pass on the legacy, or attract much excitement, as the work is difficult and unattractive to outsiders. This kind of work must be psychologically understood. But this is a common problem today, in Italy, with gentrification, separating family structures, and move towards tech jobs and city life.
The taste of Sicilian Pachinotomatoes cannot be reproduced. Heart-shaped Marostica cherries, from Veneto, are blessed by cool mountain breeze and warm sunshine. There is a cherry festival to honor the local fruits, as well as a famous chess game played with real-life human pawns in the Piazza degli Scacchi. The game dates back to 1454 when it was organized to settle a courtly duel between two noble lords competing for the hand of a lady. The history, the climate, and the science of place convene to create, in legal status, a true Italian flavor. Travelers can go to the game, enjoy the festival, and feel the life behind the GI, every September.
Parmigiano Reggiano cheese is a prime example of a Geographical Indication, demonstrating food as an art form. Outside Italy, “Parmesan” (originally a term from France to refer to Italian hard cheeses) is used as a generic name to identify a product (cheese-like, but not always cheese), that has a flavor reminiscent of the famed nutty bite that we know from true Parmigiano Reggiano. However, this copy food lacks the origin, and artisan producers. Parmigiano Reggiano has a singular history, taste, and identity that is unmistakably Italian. The Consorzio for Parmigiano Reggiano Cheese was formed in 1934; in 1996, Parmigiano Reggiano earned complete legal status in the EU. The Consorzio states that “the secret of its goodness originates in the place of origin, in the natural feed, our types of milk cows, the wind, the incline of our hills and goodness of grass, and in the high-quality milk with no additives.” The term “Parmesan” comes from geographical origin and means “of or from Parma.”
Parmigiano Reggiano is not only a good cheese, but also healthy and nutritious (named the official food of the International Space Station). After creation, the cheese wheels are subjected to a maturation period of at least twelve months (twenty-four for the most common version, thirty-six months and more for finer stravecchio), allowing Parmigiano Reggiano to gain its characteristic granular structure. It is made from raw cow’s milk (not pasteurized; there are 245,000 cows in the production area registered to make Parmigiano Reggiano) only grass and hay, not silage. After primary creation, the cheese is put into a brine bath of Mediterranean sea salt for about 22 days and then aged. At twelve months, each cheese is inspected by an expert grader who uses a hammer to tap the cheese and by sound detect undesirable cracks and voids. Cheeses that pass inspection are branded on the rind with an inspector logo. To guarantee each cheese and catalogue quality, each cheese wheel (40 kg) is stenciled by hand with:
The Parmigiano Reggiano DOP acronym and consorzio seal;
Identification number of dairy (there are 363 certified Parmigiano Reggiano dairies);
Production month and year;
An alphanumeric code identifying every single wheel.
Rounds of Parmigiano-Reggiano. [Photo: Myrabella / Wikimedia Commons / CC BY-SA 4.0]Every cheese is inspected by the consorzio, to verify if they are worthy of the Parmigiano Reggiano title, then fire branded when PDO standards are satisfied. There is a well-documented 800-year history of production, as it was first made by Benedictine monks in the same hilly areas. The processes are fiercely controlled by the consorzio, and every cheese is crafted with care, for excellence.
The cultural meaning for this cheese is also economic: in 2018, 149,000 tons (3.65 million wheels) of it was made by 50,000 Italians in Parma, Reggio Emilia, Modena, Mantua (to the right of the Po river), and Bologna to the left of the Reno river). In the same year, the cheese had a €2.2 billion estimated turnover at consumption (51,900 tons of it being exported). This is a meaningful cheese! It is easy to understand how such powerful food would have imitators. The name, alone, is sacred to the Italian people.
In 2003, the EU responded to a complaint filed by the Parmigiano Reggiano consorzio concerning the improper use by certain German companies of the name “Parmesan” as a generic name, on cheeses that neither exhibited the peculiarities of Parmigiano-Reggiano PDO, nor came from the area of origin—thus manipulating consumers and damaging reputation. German authorities refused to intervene, and thus the case was taken before the European Court of Justice. However, the case was ultimately dismissed, as the EU court did not have enough evidence to demonstrate German misuse of the generic name.
However, problems arise when deciding which phrases to protect as GIs. For example, although “Parmigiano Reggiano” is a protected GI under U.S. law (in an agreement made with Italian authorities and the cheese consorzio), the name “parmesan” is not protected—and this term is ubiquitous in American grocery markets on products that Italians would find abhorrent and embarrassing. Shoppers might even see Parmesan Reggianito, a hard Argentinean cheese invented by Italian immigrants who left Italy for South America after the Wars. They wanted to make something that would remind them of their native Parmigiano Reggiano.
Every few years, the Italian Parmigiano Reggiano consorzio tries to file legal action against a company in North America, regarding “Parmesan,” but an outright purge of all such cheese products would be impossible, and expensive. The issue comes down to labeling, but mostly, quality.
In 2012, American FDA agents investigated a cheese factory in Pennsylvania, called “Castle Cheese.” They were making goods sold as “100% real Parmesan” across the country; the cheese was found to contain cut-rate substitutes, chemicals, and fillers, such as wood pulp and cellulose. The Castle Cheese president pled guilty and was spent one year in prison, with a fine of one hundred thousand dollars, but the case was made on health standards—not Parmigiano Reggiano GI name protection. Kraft, America’s well-known mass pasteurized cheese mass brand, has argued that their parmesan cheeses actually promote and encourage the Parmigiano Reggiano product, rather than compete with or mock it.
This is why a podcast like “Thoughts on the Table” is so important: there is a tremendous need for a cross-cultural conversation about Italian food, by Italians and non-Italians, in the name of taste, access, affordability, and integrity. I can only imagine what it was like for Paolo, experiencing his first visit to a Canadian grocery store. It would be like showing him a roller skate and trying to convince him it was a car. Food is passionate and evocative; what happens when it is reduced to a transaction? We want to talk about grandmother’s soothing pasta dishes, not packaging standards.
Place Matters
Food is grown, traded, prepared, and shared according to geographical context. What you eat, for most of human history, depends on where you live. This is a field of study known as the GEOGRAPHY OF FOOD, which includes complex patterns and relationships between “space” and “place.” Taste transforms during stages of preparation. Quality means safe and wholesome ingredients, and consistency. This is where Italy excels. It has a vast range of topography, proximity to water, varieties of microclimates, and brilliant, creative farmers and chefs. As one of my friends reminds me, “our government is terrible, jobs are hard to get, and our soccer team fails in the World Cup, but we have the best eating in the entire world to console these pains.” The Mediterranean hits the Alpine ranges, and leave centuries of collaboration, giving this nation gastronomical and agricultural superiority. Science proves this, as well as our own opinions. And while so many things did not “originate” in this country, they are respected and perfected here: tomatoes, wines, pastas, coffee, and chocolate.
Place does matter—very much. In terms of food and wine, terra is the philosophical combination of physical and spiritual “place” that gives flavor. By flavor, I mean “memory,” the kind of meal we remember years after the dishes have been washed.
Geographic Indication is a legally recognized certification of quality for place-driven taste. It happens by tradition–meaning what is produced, how, and by whom. The Italian government is very serious about protection and recognition. History is, in my opinion, based in agriculture, and agriculture reveals identity. GI status strives to keep identity, while preserving the taste of memory.
In the name of authenticity, GI hopes to maintain marketplace clarity. Every protected food is traced, tracked, and guaranteed. There are major efforts by law enforcement agencies to uphold the legitimacy of food products. Olive oil, wine, balsamic vinegar, cheese, and prosciutto are some of the Italian products that are most copied and sold by fraud, or produced in sub-standard ways. Livestock are RFID tagged, and documented from conception to market shelf, and full records of genetic breeding are kept by the consorzio. A vegetable, a cheese, or a grape can be tracked by DNA testing, to assure the place it has come from. Italy has 822 registered GI products, more than any other nation, of the worldwide total 3,036 (2018 ISMEA). “Made in Italy” is very big business.
Of course, the Geographical Indications are quite general, and work with ideals. It is basically a package of economic safeguards—copyright schemes made in a non-capitalistic system. The European Union oversees each country’s regulations, and promotes communication across the board. Italy does not always enjoy being a part of the Union, though it gains considerably from the Geographical Indication projects. Aside from the spiritual and cultural lauds from economic protection, the PDO and PGI symbols are basically there to pay people to make good raw materials (beans, sardines, and kiwis). Italy must also realize that certification means Italians competing with Italians, long before the rest of the world. As Italians are hungry for creative and economic innovation, they are, more than ever, hungry to strengthen the core of their traditions.
Cultural Meaning
Nostalgia is everything to an Italian palate. So are relationships. Although larger food chains and grocery stores are trending, there is still a strong and regular desire to shop locally. How do GI products interact with everyday eating? How can we trust that the story behind the label is true? Some Italians do not support the GI system; there are many barriers to entry (certification costs, registration, legal oversight, documentation, North versus South quarrels) that prevent many from participating. Others detest the European Union. In a conversation with my elderly neighbors, Don Donato and his wife, Luciana, I asked their view on Italian Geographical Indications. Don Donato was quick to answer: “We do it because France did it, and we always have to compete with France. We have Italian food in a French system. Even the supermarkets are from France (Carrefour, Auchan in Veneto)… the problem is that Italians are very bad organizers. We have the good food, and the government doesn’t trust us with it.”
His wife does the food shopping, and said she never really noticed the food labels until last year, when she read about it in the paper. She generally keeps to the butcher, bakery, and produce shop in our small village, but goes to the shopping centers once or twice every month with her children’s families. Two things regularly astonish her: the amounts of products in the aisles, and the prices. Having choices, she told me, is very expensive. “If I want lentils from Umbria, we will go there. I am not about to pay so much for a bag of lentils. These are things that are made very well in my own area.” She told me that food is only as good as the person making it, and she can make any lentil taste Italian.
GI brands advertisement in Italy.
Can you taste the difference between a GI product and a non-GI product When it is late in the evening, and someone has prepared a beautiful Italian meal, simple and warm—what is the role of Geographical Indications for regional foods?
If my Swedish friend had known, at the least, to look for red and blue symbols on olive oil labels, his search would have been much simplified. He was looking for the best representation of an Italian olive oil, and those certification marks would have spoken for the people, processes, and places that make the oil authentic—as so the label would ideally have us believe. Later, I curiously asked which bottle he had selected from the large Roman grocery store. He laughed when he told me, “I don’t remember the name, but I bought an expensive one.” He continued, “But when I got home, I went to use it and saw, written right there on the backside: 100% California Olives.”
These contradictions make Italian food fascinating. The conversation continues…
Top 15 highest value (by production numbers) Italian Geographical Indications, 2018 (source: ISMEA—Qualivita)
http://www.aicig.it/ – Aicig (Associazione Italiana Consorzi Indicazioni Geografiche, Italian Association Geographic Indication Consortia) is a non-profit association between the various Consorzi that are recognized by the Ministry of Agricultural, Food and Forestry Policies. It represents 95% of Italian GI producers.
“Brunellopoli: A wine scandal under the Tuscan sun” – Tourism Review International 15(3):253-267 · July 2012 by Alessio Cavicchi (University of Macerata) and Cristina Santini (University San Raffaele, Roma).
NOTE: This article’s featured image is a view of Govone, Cuneo, from its castle. [Photo by Paolo Rigiroli].
Even though Italian food is prominent in North America as well as other English speaking countries, restaurant menus often use Italian words in ways that are not even remotely close to what would sound natural to a native Italian. And it isn’t just because of spelling mistakes, the grammatical and logical use of Italian words is also frequently incorrect.
This post started as a chat with two Twitter friends, Cecilia Razelli (@cocci_ge) and Carlo Settembrini (@csettembrini.) Cecilia found it amusing that I titled one of my articles “Formaggio Cheese,” given that she had noted a similar trend with constructs like “salsiccia sausage” and “prosciutto ham” (if you don’t see why Italians can find this amusing, keep reading!) Then Carlo joined the conversation, expanding to other types of mistakes that English speaking people make when using Italian words. We kept chatting on Twitter for a bit, then we moved the conversation to a shared Google Document, which eventually became the outline for this article. I would like to thank Cecilia and Carlo for engaging in this collaboration – literally, this post wouldn’t have happened without you!
To help illustrate the variety of errors that are commonly made when non-experienced Italian speakers use the Italian language, we grouped the mistakes according to their nature into six distinct families. So, let’s get started!
1. Spelling
When native Italians look for authentic Italian restaurants abroad, they often assess their authenticity merely on the number of spelling mistakes they can spot on the menus. Since the Italian language is mostly phonetic (i.e. written as pronounced,) there are no spelling competitions in Italy – spelling is generally not an issue over there(1)! This is why spelling mistakes stand out even more to the Italians.
Some spelling mistakes seem to reflect the way Italian words tend to be pronounced by English natives. Take ‘focaccia’ as an example: its misspelled counterpart ‘foccacia’ is gaining popularity because it’s closer to how it sounds in English. At other times, alternate English spellings appear to reflect the dialect of the first Italian-Americans. Words like ‘Cappicolla’ and ‘Macaroni,’ for instance, bear clear signs of a southern Italian heritage as opposed to their national counterparts: ‘Capicollo’ and ‘Maccheroni.’ Other words, like ‘linguini’ and ‘zucchini,’ reflect a combination of causes: their dialectal origin and the way the correctly spelled ‘linguine’ and ‘zucchine’ sound when read with an English accent.
To a native Italian, it’s bad enough to hear a misspelled word, but things get even worse when the alternate spelling has a different meaning in Italian. For instance, ‘panini’ is sometimes misspelled as ‘pannini.’ Now, while ‘panini’ is a diminutive of “pane,” which means ‘bread,’ the word ‘pannini’ is a diminutive of ‘panni,’ which is equivalent to “items of clothing” or “rags.” So now you know why a native Italian may get a giggle when they read that the chef’s special is the “house pannini.”
2. Plural vs. singular
Even when spelled correctly, Italian words may be misused in the context of a sentence because of an incorrect “grammatical number.” A classic example of this mistake is using the word ‘panini’ (which is the plural of ‘panino’) to refer to a single sandwich. It’s not clear why the plural ‘panini’ entered the English language instead of the singular ‘panino,’ although one theory is that ‘panini’ is assonant with other Italian-sounding words like ‘linguini’ and ‘zucchini.’ Regardless, a sentence like “I’d like a panini” sounds to a native Italian as wrong as “I’d like a sandwiches.” And it goes without saying that the word “paninis” doesn’t make any sense to a native Italian since it’s a double-plural. The same mistake occurs when ‘biscotti’ is used to refer to a single cookie (in Italian it’s the plural of ‘biscotto.’) The word ‘gelati’ instead is often used interchangeably with the word ‘gelato,’ when in reality it’s its plural form and should be used when referring to two or more Italian ice creams.
When using the English language, however, nobody is expected to use Italian grammar. Therefore, words like ‘paninos,’ ‘gelatos,’ and ‘pizzas’ are perfectly acceptable. In fact, Italians do the same with English words: they adopt the singular form and use it interchangeably both as singular and as plural (“un computer, due computer” = ‘one computer, two computers.’)
3. Feminine vs. masculine
In the Italian language, nouns have gender. Moreover, articles and adjectives must match the gender of the nouns they are used with. Because of this, besides knowing if nouns are plural or singular, in order to write proper Italian one must know the gender of nouns. Luckily, most of the times it’s easy to tell if a word is masculine or feminine: if it ends in ‘a’ it’s feminine; if it ends in ‘o’ it’s masculine (this for singular words, for plural words it’s ‘e’ for feminine, ‘i’ for masculine.) So, for example, because ‘pizza’ is feminine, one should say ‘pizza classica,’ not ‘pizza classico.’ And it’s ‘pasta ai gamberi,’ not ‘pasta alle gamberi.’ Consistency is important!
4. Adjective vs. noun
Many Italian dishes bear colorful names also thanks to the use of descriptive adjectives. As an example, ‘Bolognese’ means “from the city of Bologna.” When native Italians use words like ‘bolognese’ to refer to the famous kind of ragù (a generic word for meat sauce), they say “alla bolognese,” meaning “in the style of the city of Bologna.” Although it’s acceptable to say “Bolognese sauce” (“salsa bolognese,”) it doesn’t make sense to say: “I’ve had pasta with Bolognese” (leaving out the noun.) The sentence: “I’ve had Bolognese pasta” is also likely incorrect since it means “I’ve had pasta from the city of Bologna” with no reference to its sauce. Worse yet, if you order “a Bolognese” in a restaurant, it will sound like you are ordering a person from Bologna – that would be a very dubious kind of meat sauce!
Similarly, ‘Parmigiano’ or ‘Parmigiana’ means “from the city of Parma” (referred to a masculine/feminine subject respectively.) As for the famous eggplant dish, however, it’s equally correct to say “melanzane alla parmigiana” (“parmesan eggplants”) or “parmigiana di melanzane” (“parmesan of eggplants,”) the latter using ‘parmigiana’ as a noun.
And to conclude this category of mistakes, let’s not forget that the word ‘balsamic’ is an adjective, and it means “curative,” or “having the same properties of a conditioner” (‘conditioner’ = ‘balsamo’ in Italian.) It makes no sense to an Italian to use ‘balsamico’ without a noun or a pronoun. So, you can’t have anything like “I’ll have balsamic on my salad.” Balsamic what?
5. Generic vs. specific
‘Formaggio cheese,’ ‘salsiccia sausage,’ ‘prosciutto ham’ don’t make sense to a native Italian because they are redundant. ‘Formaggio’ is Italian for cheese, ‘salsiccia’ is Italian for sausage, ‘prosciutto (cotto(2))’ is Italian for ham. So, in Italy, all you are saying when you say ‘salsiccia sausage’ is “sausage sausage,” or “‘ham ham,” “cheese cheese.” We know the prospect of Italian food is exciting, but just one term will do!
As for the origin of this construct, it may come from the North American practice to use generic product names combined with specific adjectives. For instance, people say “cheddar cheese,” or “tuna fish,” when really ‘cheddar’ or ‘tuna’ can’t be anything other than ‘cheese’ and ‘fish’ respectively.
Interestingly, however, ‘gelato ice cream’ is technically correct since gelato is not exactly Italian for ice cream: it’s a particular kind of ice cream (denser, less sweet, and less fat.) Because of this, it may be justifiable to use ‘gelato ice cream’ as a marketing strategy to indicate a specialty product (likely to be sold at a higher price.)
Also technically correct is ‘espresso coffee’ since ‘espresso’ is indeed descriptive of a distinct kind of coffee extraction. In Italian coffee bars, however, people just call it ‘espresso,’ or even simply ‘coffee’ since the coffee sold in coffee bars is almost exclusively espresso. When ordering a coffee, Italians also often shorten the name when they order an espresso variation, which comes with its own descriptive adjective. Examples are ‘corto’ (short), ‘macchiato’ (stained or spotted with steamed milk,) ‘corretto’ (corrected with liquors or spirits,) etc. Sometimes they even leave out the noun altogether and order directly a ‘macchiato,’ which ironically also happens in North America.
The construct: ‘ricotta cheese,’ instead, is completely wrong since ricotta is technically not even cheese (being it made from whey, and therefore considered just a dairy product, or ‘latticino’ in Italian.)
In the Italian language, the following are generic names as well:
‘Panino’ is the generic name for ‘bread roll’ or ‘sandwich,’ whether grilled or not.
‘Biscotto’ is the generic name for ‘cookie,’ though Italian cookies tend to be crunchy, rather than chewy.
‘Antipasto’ is the generic translation of ‘appetizer.’ Not a particular kind of appetizer made of pickled vegetables, olives, and often tuna, or (worse) this “invention” from Kraft.
‘Latte’ is the generic name for milk, cold milk to be precise – which is what you would get if you ordered a ‘latte’ in Italy. The proper name for the espresso-based drink is ‘latte macchiato’ (steamed milk stained or spotted with coffee.)
6. Food vs. preparation
To end the list of mistake families, we can’t leave out one of the most mysterious ones exemplified by the Italian-American dish called Shrimp Scampi. Scampi, plural of scampo, is a crustacean similar to a small lobster. For some reason, it also became the name of a preparation (based on tomato, garlic, and white wine) that is generally used for shrimp and other crustaceans. But if “Shrimp Scampi” makes no sense to a native Italian because it’s essentially “Shrimp Shrimp,” Olive Garden’s Chicken Scampi makes even less sense, since it’s like saying “Chicken Shrimp.”
Sometimes Shrimp Scampi is instead used to refer to a crustacean, possibly just to make a dish sound more mysterious, or “elevated,” and definitely more “Italian.” Dishes like “Linguine with Shrimp Scampi” from “Barefoot Contessa” Ina Garten are a clear indication of how mainstream this misconception has gone. It goes without saying that actual Scampi are nowhere in the ingredients.
To make matters worse, dictionaries such as the Merriam-Webster define ‘scampi’ as “a usually large shrimp; also: a large shrimp prepared with a garlic-flavored sauce,” also reporting ‘scampi’ as a singular noun with an invariant plural form. Fortunately, heroic bloggers like my friend Frank Fariello set the record straight by correctly explaining the naming issue behind this dish.
To end the category and this article, ‘Calamari’ is another example where non-native Italians may confuse an ingredient with its preparation. Whereas in Italian it generically means ‘squid,’ outside of Italy, and especially in North America, it refers to its deep-fried ring-shaped slices.
(1) In some regions of Italy, Italians make certain kinds of spelling mistakes due to how words sound in their dialects. As an example, those who speak a Venetian dialect tend to drop double consonants. In southern Italy, instead, double consonants tend to be added where they don’t belong (e.g. Carabbinieri instead of Carabinieri.)
(2) In Italy, there are two kinds of prosciutto: ‘cotto’ (“cooked” similar to ham) and ‘crudo’ (“raw, cured.”)
I came to Vancouver in 2001, right after getting my Electronic Engineering degree. I had a six-month contract as a software engineer, joining an Italo-Canadian development team. Naturally, I was very excited for the professional experience that awaited me, but I was even more excited for the opportunity to discover a big new city in an enormous new continent – along with its language, its culture, and its food!
During my first few weeks, I trusted my Italian coworkers for food recommendations. They had been living in Vancouver for over a year already and had developed a liking for a pool of Asian and south Asian restaurants, but also for some Ethiopian and Greek establishments. I always loved discovering new cuisines, so I was happy to follow my coworkers around (also because I didn’t quite miss Italian food yet). During those days I learned how to use chopsticks and got to try a whole range of new dishes, including sushi – still one of my favorites.
When on my own, despite trying to expand my horizons to North American food, I kept going back to foreign food. Thinking of it, this is probably because “ethnic” restaurants were meant for foreigners – there, I could order my meal simply by pointing at a picture on the menu, or by reading the number next to it. In North American restaurants, instead, my Caucasian physiognomy was probably deceiving with regards to my language challenges – people expected me to speak English and therefore adjusted my words to their closest logical interpretation. This sometimes resulted in a different dish being brought to me instead of the one I ordered, like that time I was served a Caesar salad instead of a sesame salad, simply because I didn’t know the final ‘e’ in sesame is not silent.
Eventually, through trial and error, I learned how to order food. But I wasn’t totally immune to misadventure. One day, being quite desperate for something a bit more familiar, I stumbled into a McDonald’s and I distractedly ordered: “One cheeseburger and a beer.” In Italy every McDonald’s sells beer, so I mechanically assumed it would be an option in Vancouver as well. The guy at the till probably thought I skipped a word and gave me a burger and some kind of pop. Even though I realized quickly that it wasn’t beer (the fact that it came with a straw gave it away), I wasn’t really in a position to complain, as you can imagine. As I was eating my burger, I gulped down this strange soda. At first, I didn’t mind it, then I started experiencing the horrible feeling of having swallowed a cup of mouthwash! It took me months to realize that that day I had my first root beer. As of today, that root beer was my last!
I then moved from the hotel where I was staying into a small apartment. The kitchen wasn’t fully operative, but it had a microwave oven, so I thought I could try to cook some food for myself. Wandering around in a Superstore, I came across these large frozen “ravioli” filled with potatoes and cheese (the bag probably had the word ‘perogies’ written on it, but it didn’t register with me). The instructions on the package said that these dumplings could be cooked in the microwave, so I was hopeful they would be OK. I was completely wrong! These big, puffy semicircles were made of a thick, chewy dough which, despite having followed the cooking instructions, was definitely way undercooked and tasted quite funny. I ended up squeezing out the filling and eating it like mashed potatoes*.
“I was especially fascinated by the “marbled” one in which bright orange and pale orange cheese are twirled together.”
While at the Superstore, something else caught my attention. I noticed some big blocks of orange cheese, which I recognized as the same cheese that McDonald’s puts in its cheeseburgers. I had never seen the “real thing” in block-form before, and I was especially fascinated by the “marbled” one in which bright orange and pale orange cheese are twirled together. So, after the perogies disaster, I went to the fridge hoping to improve my meal by finishing it with a piece of cheese. Well, that night I realized that this crustless, rubbery orange product is not something you want to just eat with bread like you would for a piece of Fontina or Scamorza… it’s so dry that it’s almost impossible to swallow, and it really tastes quite bland.
After a few months of sushi, dim sum, moussaka, chicken korma, and unsatisfying cheese, my excitement for new foods was starting to wear off. One day, I suddenly craved pasta. Luckily, I happened to walk past a restaurant chain called: The Old Spaghetti Factory. Of course, I didn’t expect to find my mom’s pasta there, but I also didn’t expect it to be too different from it. After all, a pasta dish is a pasta dish, right? Not at all. I had found a completely different kind of Italian food. I was outraged! Spaghetti and Meatballs, Chicken Pesto Penne, Linguini Alfredo… I had never heard of any of these dishes when I was living in Italy. I had discovered a parallel universe!
“A pretty unappetizing one […] the portions were too big, the pasta was either drowning in sauce or looked pale and overcooked, and the sauces looked overly rich.” A pretty unappetizing one as well… the portions were too big, the pasta was either drowning in sauce or looked pale and overcooked, and the sauces looked overly rich. I ordered something which seemed a bit more familiar to me, clam linguini, but even that dish didn’t compare at all with the one I knew. I thought that maybe I had ended up in a strange “fusion” restaurant, but the more I looked around for other Italian restaurants, the more I became aware that they all served the same kind of unfamiliar dishes.
“Don’t they know that Italians very rarely make spelling mistakes? It’s a phonetic language!”
Looking more closely at some of these self-proclaimed Italian restaurants, I was particularly surprised to find a slew of spelling mistakes printed on their menus, which I actually found quite offensive. Don’t they know that we have spell checkers in Italy? Don’t they know that Italians very rarely make spelling mistakes? It’s a phonetic language! In a few cases, I almost offered to correct the menus myself, but then I realized that maybe these errors were for the best after all, since they acted like unintentional warnings to native Italians, hopefully sending them off to the Chinese restaurant next door, perhaps with an equally misspelled menu, but that they would have never been able to call out.
Meanwhile, my first work contract had ended and I was offered a full-time job, which I actually still hold now, 15 years later. During the following years I kept running into distorted Italian food, and somehow Italian food was becoming even more popular in Vancouver. In 2010, I decided to have some fun and start a pretentious blog aimed at fixing Italian food in North America. In my opening post, I wrote: “I will say the proper ways to write the names of Italian dishes. And, from what I know, I will also try to say how the dish should look and taste… for sure I will say how the dish most definitely *shouldn’t* look or taste!”
This was just the beginning, though, and as I continued blogging my initial rant turned into something a bit more useful. I started investigating the root differences between the food of Italy and the food of North America, which are as much in the ingredients as in the culinary culture. I also learned that Italian-American food is a cuisine in its own right, historically rooted and not less authentic than the cuisine of Milan. However, I think that Italian-American food should be labeled as such, and I hope that going forward more restaurants and chefs will celebrate it by calling it out on their menus instead of labeling it as generically “Italian.”
Since I started the blog, however, things have begun to change. I am not sure I can take credit for it, but it’s indisputable that thanks to YouTube and true Italian food blogs people can get accurate descriptions of all kinds of cuisines directly from the people who grew up eating them. In this changing landscape, more and more Italian restaurateurs are discovering that they can be successful outside of Italy without compromising by adapting their menus to local expectations. As a result, the Italians abroad can more easily find the Italian food they’re familiar with.
I think that the new global awareness is also reflected in an increased availability of ingredients. Naturally, North America’s produce is still very different from the Italian because of climate and composition of the soil, but, at least in big cities, it is now easier to find Italian grocery stores and to cook traditional continental Italian without having to substitute any key ingredients. Overall, I don’t see this as globalization, but quite as the opposite – it’s a phenomenon which validates local realities and traditional cuisines, ultimately preserving them in their immense richness and protecting them from accidentally merging into one another. Cross pollination and fusion cuisine will of course still happen, but, hopefully, they will become more deliberate than they have been in the past. _____ * It took me years, but I eventually came across properly cooked east European perogies and discovered that they are actually delicious.↑
Jason and I used to be co-workers and in our lunch breaks we often talked about food, trying to explain the logic behind it, and comparing North American, Italian, and Japanese cultures. Being an avid podcast listener, and missing the days when I was an amateur radio host in Italy, I pitched to Jason the crazy idea of making a podcast from our chats. Of course he accepted without hesitation! As a result, Thoughts on the Table was born just over three years ago.
Even though Jason is no longer a co-host, the podcast continues to thrive, thanks to its notable guests and loyal listeners – including Jason himself, of course. In fact, I’m very happy to be publishing episode number fifty (that’s five-zero!) today.
In this special episode, Jason is back on the show with one of his topics. With our usual investigative approach, Jason and I theorize on why North Americans seem to focus on high ranking foods (the so-called “proteins”), relegating the rest of the dish to mere accompaniments, whereas the Italians – and the Japanese – value dishes in which the various components are paired harmoniously, and they have meals in which the dishes follow one another in a balanced progression.
As always, please join us in our discussion and let us know what you think by commenting on the episode. Thanks to everyone for your support and feedback!
Proxemics, the study of interpersonal communication, defines “personal space” as the cylinder of air surrounding each person which people consider as an extension of their body. The personal radius is largest between strangers and shrinks down the more people know one another, reaching zero (physical contact) for parent-child relationships and for couples. The personal radius also varies according to the difference in social ranking: individuals seem to demand more personal space when surrounded by people that they consider of lower social status, as a form of respect they think they deserve.
In North America, the standard socially acceptable distance between acquaintances having a conversation is around 4 feet. In Italy, instead, the norm is 2-3 feet(1), a distance that North Americans tend to reserve for intimate relationships. In Italy, it’s also common for people to establish extended physical contact when having an exchange. For instance, a person may reach for a friend’s forearm as a way to communicate openness and honesty or walk arm in arm with a coworker (of any gender) as they discuss something confidential.
The difference in the amount of personal space that people require can also be seen in the way they greet one another. In Italy, especially in the south, the double kiss on the cheeks is the standard greeting between acquaintances, not the business-like handshake. In North America, the hug (which is the equivalent of the double kiss) is instead reserved for close friends and family.
When forced in a tight environment such as an overcrowded transit vehicle, people adopt strategies to cope with the invasion of personal space. A theory is that they start to see others as lifeless(2), avoid eye contact, and wear their don’t-talk-to-me face. But things get even more interesting when there is enough space for people to decide how to arrange themselves, but not enough for them to fulfill their personal space requirements. This is the case for instance in a 10-person occupancy elevator, with 6 people in it.
In North America, people tend to line up towards the door, staring at the void and trying to move to the back when they know they’re going to be the last out, and to the front, if they’re going to be first.
In Italy people consider it rude to turn their back to others. This, combined with their general tendency to refuse to line up, results in people orienting themselves in a circle, turning their backs to the elevator’s walls.
The higher tolerance of Italians for an invasion of their personal space also reflects in their inclination to violate somebody else’s. As an example, when queuing up in a crowded post office, it’s relatively normal for people to end up shoulder to shoulder or in physical contact with the person in front, leaning against them slightly as to apply a gentle push (perhaps under the unconscious assumption that it can make the line go faster). This can also be observed when people crowd towards the counter when waiting to order their espresso, an operation which requires catching the barista’s eyes as soon as they inquire into who’s next.
But what is the cause of the different social behaviors and the varying level of interpersonal contact? One theory is that less personal space may be the result of living in densely populated cities. But this is not a sufficient condition. The Japanese, for instance, live in even tighter spaces than the Italians, and yet they are notoriously a no-contact society.
A more likely theory is that the populations of southern Europe and Latin America belong to highly expressive cultures traditionally devoted to living a communal life centered around churches and piazzas. This is likely due to the necessity of helping one another in regions of scarce resources and facilitated by the clemency of the weather. People belonging to these populations have become accustomed to collaborating with one another, which has made them emotionally and physically closer.
Besides the need for interaction, the tendency to grab people’s arm and pull them closer during a conversation may also derive from the necessity to be discrete when sharing private information. In that regard, a great example of confidential exchange is the one that catholic Italians are exposed to during confession, a sacrament bound to secrecy which requires the penitent and confessor to come close and whisper to one another.
But personal space can also be violated from far apart. This can be seen for instance in the way some Italians choose to be overly loud in public. Even if they are having a business conversation on the phone, they may raise their voice and begin gesticulating in order to establish their territory. In doing that they project confidence and power, they establish their social status and therefore enlarge their personal space.
There is one place, however, where Italians seem to require more privacy than North Americans: public toilets. In North America, the stalls are often only partially enclosed and the urinals can be side by side without any screens between them, or they may even be replaced with a communal trough. In Italy, instead, public bathrooms are often built with urinals that are well divided and stalls that are fully enclosed. One possible explanation for this difference is that by building open bathrooms, people are forced not to take advantage of these spaces as if they were personal (e.g. to conduct something illegal or immoral in it). Italians instead are less concerned with illegality or immorality, they care more about how they appear in public and therefore demand more privacy when they can’t look at their best.
___________ (1) Edward T. Hall (1990). The Hidden Dimension. (2) Sommer, Robert (1967). Sociofugal Space. American Journal of Sociology.
Featured Image: Palio di Siena by Janus Kinase [CC BY-SA 2.0], via Wikimedia Commons.
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Hello and welcome to thoughts on the table, the audio blog on food and food culture. Paolo here back with a recurring guest today, with me is Diana Zahuranec! Hi Diana.
Diana Zahuranec
Hi Paolo, it’s great to be back!
Paolo Rigiroli
I’m super happy to have you back, Diana, people have been commenting on your podcast – one of the most successful podcast [we had] was the one on the mediterranean diet we just had in January, this year.
Diana Zahuranec
Oh, that’s great – yeah.
Paolo Rigiroli
You know, you have this amazing ability to capture Italian culture and describe the Italians better than I would be able to do, being maybe too Italian…
Diana Zahuranec
Well, that must be the anthropologist in me that can observe.
Paolo Rigiroli
Yeah, it’s possible – you’re studying us. That’s what it is. But, anyway, Diana has been living in Italy for 4 years now and she works at Wine Pass, an online magazine on wine in the Piedmont area, correct?
Diana Zahuranec
Yes, it’s exactly correct, it’s in Italian and English, and it’s geared towards wine tourists that are coming to Piedmont.
Paolo Rigiroli
Excellent, and so wine – we can say – is pretty much your job right now, right?
Diana Zahuranec
Pretty much, yes (laughs)
Paolo Rigiroli
Which is fantastic because we finally get on the topic. So, yes, wine is defining of the Italian culture itself and I’d love talking about wine [in this podcast]. But, how did you get to be interested in wine – how did it start?
Diana Zahuranec
Well, my interest in wine naturally started over here, in Italy, because I moved here after college, therefore most of my time in the US I was younger and didn’t actually drink wine. And so I came to Italy, I went to the University of Gastronomic Sciences in Pollenzo [Piedmont] for a one-year masters program in Food Culture and Communications-
Paolo Rigiroli
That’s the Slow Food university, right?
Diana Zahuranec
Exactly, it’s the Slow Food university. And, during this year-long program, we had a lot of different kinds of classes and many of them would last just a couple of weeks because [we had several professors which] came from all over the world. And several kinds of these classes were tasting classes on salumi, or chocolate, or cheeses and there was also a tasting class on wine.
Paolo Rigiroli
Mhh, pretty tough there! (laughs)
Diana Zahuranec
Yeah (laughs)… “Difficult year” in Italy… And in these tasting classes there were black glasses set up in the classroom – they were opaque of course. Each one had a smell that you could find in a wine. And what we did we smelled these without looking inside and we would write down what we thought the scent was. Whether it was vanilla, or pineapple, or… something. And then we would look and see if we got it right. And it was incredible – the more we did it, after just a couple of lessons we started being able to identify it right away and we could even identify the same smell in the wines. And it was just incredible how much of a difference that made in tasting wines.
Paolo Rigiroli
Interesting.
Diana Zahuranec
Yeah, I don’t like how wine is often a very intimidating drink to people, because just knowing a little bit more about wine […] it makes it so much more enjoyable. And it’s not that difficult. So, that’s how I started getting interested in wine.
Paolo Rigiroli
It’s amazing. And now you work at Wine Pass, so I suppose you have been continuing to discover more and more about wine. And tasting more wines?
Diana Zahuranec
Yes, exactly. At Wine Pass I write a lot about the different wines of the region, or wine makers, or we go on itineraries for wine tourists and we write them out, we map them out, tell people where they could eat or buy a bottle of wine, and so forth. And the more I write about this, the more I learn about wines and wine makers in the region, and it’s very interesting. I’m always learning more about wine here.
Paolo Rigiroli
Yeah. I’m very interested to know if there is any differences in wine production between North America and Italy, for what you were able to observe there, in Piedmont.
Diana Zahuranec
There are huge differences! Of course I didn’t actually ever go and visit wineries in Napa, and I don’t know a ton about American wine, but I know a lot more about the differences in the American and Italian culture. And I do know… that a big difference is the size of wineries. In general, the average Piemonte winery is small – it’s a family production. I think that it goes without saying for all of Italy that a lot of the wineries here are small. You can consider a big winery to make about maybe 500 thousand bottles a year, and a really big one maybe a million bottles in a year, whereas in the United States a big winery could make several million cases, and in a case are 12 bottles of wine! So that’s a huge difference.
Paolo Rigiroli
I see, I see, so the size… Which I suppose goes with the size of the territory.
Diana Zahuranec
Yes, it does, definitely. And so that kind of gives a difference in the mentality. Because if you’re a small winery, you’re doing all the work, you’re doing everything. From the wine-making, you’re in the cellar, you’re in the vineyard. You are producing the wine, and you are promoting it too – you’re inviting guests into the wineries, so you’re doing everything. Whereas these big wineries [in the US] are great at accommodating people and making a profit off of it… because they can charge people when they come in and taste wines. These wineries in Italy, I can think of maybe one that would charge you to actually go on a tour…
Paolo Rigiroli
Well, I guess they’re proud of it. And they’re not used to having too many visitors as well, I suppose. It’s their family business. So, it’s not just a job – they will take you through and show you everything. As oppose to, you know, you [meeting] the public relations representative for the company. And maybe tours are one of the services offered – whether it’s for money or not – but it’s still just your job – right?
Diana Zahuranec
Exactly, exactly. There’s a lot of passion. It’s their life. It’s what they do all year round, all the time.
Paolo Rigiroli
Yeah, I remember my experience about Piedmont and wine is [that] my dad used to order wine from Piedmont, a place called Lu [in the Monferrato region] – a very small town. This maker was extremely small, and I remember every year we would go and he would order the wine and then he would get it shipped and then he would bottle it himself in my grandma’s basement. And, me and my brother, which we were like 8 and 4, were there to help bottling the wine. Which may sound crazy to North Americans… that kids are involved in the production… But that’s the thing – kids don’t like wine because it’s kind of an acquired taste and we were never interested… But, going back to Piedmont, I remember visiting this production and particularly the cellars – this super cool, dark place, and cool in temperature too – it was like, maybe 16 Celsius? – And then they would get a little bit of wine out of these kegs and pour it in a nice glass, and bring it upstairs, to taste it on the kitchen’s table. And this is how my dad would choose which wines to order.
Diana Zahuranec
Ohh, that’s so nice!
Paolo Rigiroli
Yeah. It was fantastic, that’s still my memory. So I’m imagining that this scales to the entire region, pretty much…
Diana Zahuranec
Yes.
Paolo Rigiroli
And, what about the process itself… the actual production. Do you know of any differences, on the technical side?
Diana Zahuranec
I don’t know a lot about the technical processes of winemaking, in the two different countries, but I do know that California uses a lot of water and irrigation, whereas in Piedmont they don’t, it’s a lot of dry cropping. As of maybe two years ago, I think, they allowed certain regions to use water in extreme droughts… but I know that in general they don’t use irrigation at all. They kind of look at [irrigation] as “forcing the plant”, you know, it’s not its natural habitat, you’re forcing it to drink water when nature wouldn’t give it to it.
Paolo Rigiroli
Mm-hmm (affirmative).
Diana Zahuranec
And actually this is another thing that is different between here and the US, as much as I know. This goes hand in hand with their practices in the field, which are very often organic, but not actually certified. They’re organic and they are sustainable, but they’re not certified. Because they do it out of respect for the vine and for the vineyard, they don’t try to find loopholes in organic [food] certification where they can use a little bit of one chemical, or not, but they really try not to use any chemicals at all, many winemakers don’t. So this is good news…
Paolo Rigiroli
Yes, absolutely and I noticed this in general, in Italy and Italian products, ‘organic’ (or “agricoltura biologica” as they say) is present and you can find it even in supermarkets, there’s a section on organic food, but it’s not as trendy as it is here.
Diana Zahuranec
Right.
Paolo Rigiroli
I think that in general the consensus is that there isn’t much difference with respect to regular produce and there certainly isn’t much [difference] in flavor in Italy, I find.
Diana Zahuranec
Oh, no. No, there’s not a difference in flavor at all.
Paolo Rigiroli
Mm-hmm (affirmative).
Diana Zahuranec
Actually, the organic might even be not less flavorful, but “older” because people don’t really buy it and so the products get old quickly.
Paolo Rigiroli
Exactly. Not as fresh. Yeah. What about instead the differences in culture? What is your experience with that? How do you see Italians relate to wine?
Diana Zahuranec
Yes, that’s a very big difference from the US and Italy because wine is really a part of [the Italian’s] daily life and it always has been.
Paolo Rigiroli
Mm-hmm (affirmative).
Diana Zahuranec
Even a glass of wine at lunch time is not looked down upon and it’s always drunk with food. It’s not really this special drink for only special people during parties or other holidays, but it’s an everyday drink that you have with your food. The difference with that in the U.S. is that I see often in movies or television shows or pictures on Instagram, for example, people will have their full glass of wine by their computer as they work.
Paolo Rigiroli
Mm-hmm (affirmative).
Diana Zahuranec
Or they’ll have one right as they come home from work to unwind and de-stress and it’s seen … To an Italian, I think that would be like taking it out of its context. I’m not saying it’s bad to drink it like that, but it doesn’t make sense to an Italian to drink it like that. It makes sense to drink wine with food. It’s part of the meal.
Paolo Rigiroli
Yeah, appreciation of food itself is to have it with a little bit of wine and pair it. If you’re having fish, of course you’re going to prefer a white wine and red wine will go, of course, with meats and cheeses, especially hard cheeses.
Diana Zahuranec
Yes. And a lot of the times these reds, or these white wines, if you have it without food, it just isn’t the same. Piedmont is famous for having very tannic wines.
Paolo Rigiroli
Mm-hmm (affirmative).
Diana Zahuranec
Which is tannins are that feeling on your tongue of having a dry wine. It can get a little bit tiring on your palate if you just keep drinking wine after wine.
Paolo Rigiroli
Mm-hmm (affirmative).
Diana Zahuranec
Which I’ve noticed at different tastings with Nebbiolo, [which] is one in particular that’s very tannic. We can talk about that later, but… If you just drink this wine without having any food with it, you miss out on a lot of flavors and a lot of the enjoyment because… it’s just too much to handle, basically.
Paolo Rigiroli
Interesting.
Paolo Rigiroli
We already mentioned that you are based in Piedmont, of course, and Nebbiolo is one of the wines that you have been tasting. Would you say that that’s one of your favorites?
Diana Zahuranec
It is definitely my favorite. The favorite. It makes… several famous wines that come from Piedmont, such as Barolo and Barbaresco. But it also makes a lot of other wines, always from Piedmont, such as a Langhe Nebbiolo, there’s a Roero Nebbiolo, or different Nebbiolos from Alto Piemonte, like Boca, and Ghemme, and Gattinara.
Paolo Rigiroli
Mm-hmm (affirmative).
Diana Zahuranec
There’s so many, and every time you taste them, even though it’s 100% Nebbiolo grape, they all taste different.
Paolo Rigiroli
Yes.
Diana Zahuranec
They all have a very different profile, and it’s so interesting and I just love Nebbiolo. Never disappoints.
Paolo Rigiroli
All these wines are based on the same grape and they’re just aged in different ways to achieve a different product, a different wine that is a different denomination, correct?
Diana Zahuranec
Right. Or maybe people would understand more appellation? I don’t which one is used more, but that’s right. Although the differences come also from the soil or altitude.
Paolo Rigiroli
Right. Nebbiolo itself is also an appellation. It’s not just the name of a grape.
Diana Zahuranec
Right.
Paolo Rigiroli
It’s also one of my favorites, by the way. I do like that family of wines as well. I don’t like wines that are too mellow. I don’t know, if I can describe that…
Diana Zahuranec
Yeah, it’s definitely … No, it’s definitely not a mellow wine. They’re very… At the same time, they’re elegant and powerful.
Paolo Rigiroli
Mm-hmm (affirmative).
Diana Zahuranec
It’s hard to explain that unless you actually drink it and understand how the wine is. It’s a really great wine.
Paolo Rigiroli
Yeah, and [about] Nebbiolo, also there’s a curiosity about the name, which I happen to know. I’m sure you want to talk about it.
Diana Zahuranec
Sure. Yeah, Nebbiolo comes from the word ‘nebbia’, which means fog in Italian and it takes its name from this because the fog is a big part of the landscape in Piedmont… And Nebbiolo is a late maturing grape that has a very long growing cycle. It’s harvested whenever the mists start to roll in, in the late fall. That’s why it takes it’s name from ‘nebbia’.
Paolo Rigiroli
Fantastic. It’s always fascinating to picture it. When I think of Nebbiolo, I do see the rolling hills covered in fog. It kind of makes it really magic. It’s really cool. What about other grapes in Piedmont?
Diana Zahuranec
Oh, yes. Piedmont has a lot of different native varieties. The big ones (that actually are produced even more than Nebbiolo) are Barbera [and] Dolcetto, two big red grape varieties.
Paolo Rigiroli
Mm-hmm (affirmative).
Diana Zahuranec
White ones are Moscato and Arneis. Then there are lots of others. I mean, tons of these obscure names, especially in the higher hills.
Paolo Rigiroli
Mm-hmm (affirmative).
Diana Zahuranec
But others that you might come across, for red wines are the Verduno Pelaverga.
Diana Zahuranec
And there’s Grignolino, Ruché and Freisa, these are all red wines. And red grape names as well, the wine is named after the grape. For other whites that you may find, there’s Gavi, Erbaluce, Nascetta, and Favorita. And these are all other names that you might find around. I think, Gavi and Erbaluce for the white wines, you will find more commonly abroad than the others, but obviously the Moscato and Arneis and the big names that I’ve already named, you will be able to find those abroad.
Paolo Rigiroli
Mm-hmm (affirmative). Do you have more information on any of these wines? Like Barbera or Dolcetto?
Diana Zahuranec
Yeah, Barbera and Dolcetto are the names of the grapes and then they make a lot of different wines and you’ll find them named after like Barbera d’Alba, Barbera d’Asti. The same thing with Dolcetto and that comes from where they’re made. So ‘d’Alba’ means ‘from Alba’, ‘d’Asti’, ‘from Asti’, which is in the Monferrato, a winemaking region in Piedmont. Dolcetto, for example, you might find Dogliani. It might just be called Dogliani, even though it’s Dolcetto di Dogliani. That’s another place where it’s made, or Dolcetto di Ovada, which is a really great Dolcetto.
Paolo Rigiroli
And all these are wines which are D.O.C., as we say in Italy, so that the denomination of origin is controlled.
Diana Zahuranec
Yes.
Paolo Rigiroli
Which means that they are certified to be produced from grapes from that particular region that their appellation refers to. Is that correct?
Diana Zahuranec
Exactly. Yes, it also puts some different guarantees on the quality and the time that it’s aged.
Paolo Rigiroli
Mm-hmm (affirmative).
Diana Zahuranec
How many months or in what kind of material it’s aged in, wood or stainless steel. It depends of course on the wine. And then there’s D.O.C.G., which is, you could say one step higher.
Paolo Rigiroli
Yes.
Diana Zahuranec
And of course you can find wines of great quality that aren’t even certified at all.
Paolo Rigiroli
Mm-hmm (affirmative).
Diana Zahuranec
But this is just a general rule to figure out what those letters mean on the labels.
Paolo Rigiroli
Yeah, absolutely. I think if you’re not familiar with the wine, it’s a good thing to look for the certification because it will give you certain guarantees. Diana, it has been fantastic, of course, talking with you. It’s so fascinating and I wish really to take a tour now in Piedmont and go through all those valleys and try all the wines that you mentioned, because I do know a few of them, but I can’t say that I’m an expert, so I definitely have work to do.
Diana Zahuranec
Oh yeah, you should visit. You’re invited and anyone listening to the podcast is invited to come to Piedmont.
Paolo Rigiroli
Absolutely. You’ll take them around personally.
Diana Zahuranec
Yes (laughs).
Paolo Rigiroli
That’s what Diana is promising you (laughs).
Paolo Rigiroli
So, for you listening, if you have enjoyed this podcast, please do us a favor. Go on iTunes or whichever podcast player you use and subscribe. It really means a lot to us, and if you’re inclined, please leave a review as well on iTunes. Feedback is always welcome. Leave your comments there or on the blog. We’re very happy to hear anything you may have to say and it’s really important to us. Diana, again, thank you so much. It’s been awesome.
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