It Don't Get No Respect
I don't get it. I just don't get it.
Italian is the Rodney Dangerfield of languages: it don't get no
respect. And I simply don't understand why.
Of course “Italian language” is a
lot like “Italian cooking” in that it's hard to define. There are
twenty regions on the Italian peninsula and there are at least twenty
different dialects. A simple pasta dish can be called a dozen
different things in different parts of the country even though the
ingredients are all the same. “Official” Italian, the language
people speak, hear, and are most familiar with, is based on the
Tuscan dialect, the language of Dante. Italian is lyrical, sensuous,
rhythmic, and undoubtedly one of the most beautiful languages on
earth. It is the language of music, opera, poetry, art, and love. And
non-Italians tear it into little bitty pieces and stomp on it every
day.
Italian really is a simple language.
It's phonetic. You say it like you see it. All you need to know are a
few vowel sounds and a few consonant rules and you've got a good
start. There are five vowels in Italian and only seven vowel sounds.
Compare that to English, which also has five vowels, but has fifteen
vowel sounds! And yet English speakers constantly butcher Italian by
trying to make it sound like English. They put an English spin on
Italian pronunciations. If the final “e” is silent in English, it
should be silent in Italian, too. “Well, that's the way we say it
in America.” Okay. Fine. But it's still wrong!
French author Anatole France said it best: “If fifty million people
say a foolish thing, it is still a foolish thing.”
I was watching “Top Chef.” The
contestants were cooking in Mexico and they were cooking with classic
Mexican ingredients. One of them was actually Mexican. A couple were
of Asian parentage and the rest were just plain ol' Americans from
places like New York, Georgia, Texas and Michigan.
Now here's what I want to know: how can
trained chefs – people who supposedly know everything there is to
know about every cuisine on the planet – effortlessly rattle off
Spanish words like “huitlacoche” and “escamoles” and
“xoconostle” and “escabeche,” “chimichurri” and “queso
fresco” and “guacamole” – and then stumble all over their
tongues when saying “marinara” and “agnolotti”?
Read my lips:
It....is....NOT....pronounced....“mare-uh-NARE-uh.” It is
“mah-ree-NAH-rah.” And roll those “r”s. If you can correctly
say “hwahk-ah-MOH-lay” rather than the common Americanized
“gwahk-ah-MOLE-ee,” why the hell can't you properly say
“mah-ree-NAH-rah”? And please tell me why you can make a
Spanish-Italian fusion dish, ““huitlacoche agnolotti,”
perfectly pronouncing “huitlacoche” and then embarrass yourself
by murdering “agnolotti”? Please! It's not “ag-nuh-LOT-ee.”
That makes me cringe. Just like when I hear not so learned chefs say
“tag-lee-uh-TELL-ee.” (Tagliatelle.) It's “ah-nyoh-LAWT-tee”
and “tahl-yah-TAYL-lay.” (Even that's not perfect. I can say it
better than I can write it.) And to all you clueless servers in
faux-Italian restaurants, don't even get me started on
“broo-SKET-uh”.
What really twists my knickers is the
fact that Italian is the only language that gets the casual
treatment. Do you order a “kwes-uh-DILL-uh” at “Tack-oh Bell”?
Of course not. If you asked for a “bur-IT-oh” instead of a
“boo-REE-toh,” you would be laughed at. And do you get
“BAYG-nets” at “kaffee du MON-dee” in New Orleans. No? Then
why do you insist on asking for “broo-SKET-uh” with
“mare-uh-NARE-uh” at Olive Garden? Why do you feel obliged to
use proper Spanish and correct French, but you can't spare a thought
for good Italian? Why is that?
Somebody once tried to sell me the old
“accepted through common usage” plow horse. Go back to my Anatole
France quote: “If fifty million
people say a foolish thing, it is still a foolish thing.” No matter
how often they say it.
And
even if your Mama got off the boat straight from the Old Country, you
don't get a pass on using final vowels. There's an “o” at the end
of “prosciutto” and an “a” at the end of “mozzarella.”
They are there because in proper Italian, you pronounce every
letter. “Pro-ZHOOT” and
“mootz-uh-RELL” may sound Italian to you, but to Italians, it
just sounds ignorant. I heard somebody from New York talking about
using “ruh-GOT” in a recipe. I had no idea what the hell they
were saying. I had to look it up. How does a person mangle “ricotta”
that badly?
Speaking
of ignorant, is it ignorance or just stupidity when someone corrects
you and you refuse to be corrected? Back to “Top Chef,” at least
three of the diners correctly pronounced
“agnolotti” in front of the chef who prepared the dish and
slaughtered the word. And she still persisted in saying it her
way. I guess it's true that
ignorance is curable but stupid is forever.
And it's not just
Americans. The British totally befuddle me. How can a people who
commonly say “cAHn't” and “shAHn't” and “fAHst” then turn
around and say “PASS-tuh”? I don't get that one at all.
The
biggest part of the problem is Italians themselves. They are just too
polite to correct people. The French will bite your head off and
stuff your tongue down your throat if you screw with their precious
language. But Italians just take it with big smiles, even as the hair
raises on the backs of their necks. Take my word for it, it
aggravates the hell out of most of them, but they just grin and bear
it. Well, folks, I'm part Italian but I'm also part French, so I
don't do a lot of grinning and bearing when it comes to that sort of
thing. I may grin while I correct you, but that's about it. I know a
lot of servers think I'm un stronzo (run
it through Google Translate), but I'll keep right on correcting them,
regardless, because I respect the language. I think at the very least
if you're going to serve me something, you should be able to
pronounce it.
Okay. (pant,
pant) I feel (huff, huff) much better now. I'm going to drag
the soapbox back up under the porch and go lie down. I think we're
going to an “Italian” place tonight and I really need to rest up.
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