Review: Giada, The Cromwell, Las Vegas, Nevada

A True Gem Among Rhinestones

Okay, anybody who knows me knows that I'm a particular fan of Giada De Laurentiis. I became a fan during her “Everyday Italian” days on Food Network, back when the network was actually worth watching. In addition to being a talented chef, I've always found her to be a nice person. I've actually met Giada, spoken with her, spent time with her and have frequently defended her against shallow detractors who criticize her for her appearance. Is there a more absurd reason to “hate” a person?

Anyway, I was excited when Giada made the announcement in 2014 that she was opening a restaurant in Las Vegas, joining the ranks of many other “celebrity” chefs with eponymous eateries there. And I was even more excited when I finally got the opportunity to dine at her signature place.

I don't much like Las Vegas in general. It's just not my scene. In the first place, with apologies to Elvis, the “bright light city” doesn't so much “set my soul on fire” as it just burns up my wallet. I'm not fond, for example, of shelling out ten dollars for a Coke and a candy bar. I don't gamble, I don't like crowds, I don't like noise, I don't like drunks, and I especially don't like crowds of noisy, gambling drunks. And I object to being accosted by grubby pornslappers who pop their smutty little cards at me every ten feet as I walk along The Strip. After all, why should I patronize them when I can, as the numerous rolling billboard trucks proclaim, have girls delivered “direct to your room” just like a pizza? Thank you. No.

I do, however, appreciate the vibrant Vegas food scene. Just about every “famous” chef I know either personally or through various media has a place in “The Entertainment Capital of the World.” Tom Colicchio, Gordon Ramsay, Emeril Lagasse, Masahara Morimoto, Buddy Valastro, Joel Robuchon, Guy Fieri, Wolfgang Puck, Jose Andres, Robert Irvine......the list is extensive to say the least. But it was on Giada's place at The Cromwell that I was focused this trip.

We had a 9 p.m. reservation, but between being seriously jet lagged and frankly tired of all the throngs crowding The Strip, we showed up early with the intention of just sitting quietly at the bar until nine if necessary. Fortunately, it wasn't: thanks to a very friendly and accommodating staff, we were seated within about thirty minutes. But our relatively brief sojourn at the bar was quite comfortable and pleasant. We were attended to promptly and settled in to enjoy a nice Pinot Noir (hers) and a cool glass of Peroni (mine). When we were seated, we were quite well seated, thank you, at one of the coveted window tables overlooking The Strip below and the adjacent fountains of the Bellagio. The restaurant's huge retractable windows were open on a pleasant autumn evening, enabling us to take in all the dazzling sights and cacophonous sounds from a nice safe perch on the hotel's second floor.

The ambiance and décor are very much reflective of Giada, including works by her artist friend, Darren Quinn. Giada fans and viewers will recognize his “Amore” from her TV show set. There are also some wonderful portraits of her, her grandfather, Dino, and her beautiful grandmother, Silvana Mangano displayed near the bar. It's an elegant and sophisticated vibe that is at the same time quite understated and soothing in the midst of all the surrounding glitz and faux glamour.

I don't know where Giada (the restaurant) found Fred, but I wish he could be cloned or at the very least loaned out to train every server at every eating place in the country. Friendly, personable, efficient, and knowledgeable, Fred was a joy. He was perfectly professional without being the least bit pretentious or stuffy. He never hovered, but he was never far away. His familiarity with every dish was impressive, although I do wish he'd learn to pronounce “mascarpone.” The flat, American-accented “mahs-car-POHN” was a bit grating, but that's just the annoying purist in me. Fred's recommendations were spot on and he seemed genuinely pleased when we were genuinely pleased by them. Obviously somebody who enjoys his craft and is not just collecting a paycheck.

Whoever was running the kitchen the night we were there (I know it wasn't Giada) also obviously enjoys their craft and is extremely good at it. The food was absolutely delicious. Giada features a unique fusion of Giada De Lauretiis' personal “authentic Italian meets modern California” style. By and large, it's lighter fare that doesn't necessarily sacrifice any of the traditional Italian taste.

My wife was especially amazed by her ravioli with Brussels sprouts and brown butter. She has never met a Brussels sprout she enjoyed – until now. Her fulsome praise of the cook on the vegetable and her equally enthusiastic enjoyment of the delicately unctuous brown butter were the talk of the evening. My bucatini pasta dish was also enjoyable, with a sweetly tangy pomodoro sauce and perfectly cooked pasta. Well, the al dente texture was perfect. The pasta itself could have benefited from just a teensie bit more salt. I know a lot of places have to cook to the lowest common denominator of misinformed patrons who are convinced that the slightest amount of salt in their food will lead them straight to hardened arteries and an early grave, but I was somewhat disappointed that the cooks at Giada would fall into that. Giada knows, as every Italian does, that salt – in what some consider egregious amounts – is the only way to flavor pasta. There was a little dish of flake salt on our table, placed there to compliment some incredible bread, and I crushed and sprinkled the tiniest pinch of it over my dish to immediately discernible results. The minuscule addition made the tomato flavor in the sauce pop even more. But again, I'm a purist and a cook. Others may not have noticed or appreciated the difference.

And these were porzioni veramente italiane, truly Italian portions. No huge overflowing platters of food. These were perfectly plated individual portions, not great piles designed to feed ravenous hordes like you usually find in “Italian” places.

Speaking as I was of the bread, a complimentary plate of ciabatta and an olive oil rosemary bread was absolutely to die for when combined with a selection of condiments that included the aforementioned flake salt, some capers, some peperoncino, an herbed olive oil, and an insanely good lemon mascarpone butter. I'm definitely stealing that last one.

I'd also like to steal the hot cocoa souffle that capped our incredible meal. A fresh-baked hot chocolate souffle that was deflated tableside and filled with rich chocolate sauce and served next to a scoop of creamy marshmallow gelato. Buonissimo! Perfetto! Delizioso! And a whole bunch of other Italian superlatives.

Did this heavenly repast come cheap? Oh, hell no. My credit card went straight to ICU. But you know what? The food, the service, the atmosphere, the entire experience was worth every penny and I'll eagerly do it again next time I'm in town. Just don't think you're going to Olive Garden when you cross the threshold at Giada. The food is obviously superior to anything you'll ever get at such a place, but be aware that you'll get a lot less for a lot more.

Giada is located on the second floor of The Cromwell Hotel & Casino at 3595 S. Las Vegas Blvd. They serve a weekend brunch Friday, Saturday, and Sunday and are open from 9 a.m. to 10:30 p.m. those days. Monday through Thursday hours are 5 p.m until 10:30. Parking? Yeah, right. This is Vegas, baby. Reservations are not strictly required but are strongly suggested. Dress is golf course or business casual. But again, this is Vegas: don't be surprised by anything you see. Allow at least an hour to an hour-and-a-half for your dining experience. Call (855) 442-3271 or visit the website at https://www.caesars.com/cromwell/restaurants/giada .

Leave Giada De Laurentiss and Bobby Flay Alone!

They're Just a Couple of COOKS!

The tabloid media is at it again. This morning's newsfeed contained no fewer than five headlines screaming claims about the alleged relationship between Giada De Laurentiss and Bobby Flay. From the moment Giada broke up housekeeping with her fashion-designer husband and Bobby called it quits with his actress wife, the gossip mongers have been trying to tie the two of them together. The pair are longtime friends and longtime coworkers and the fact that they were seen together soon after their respective divorces obviously indicates that they are off mattress pounding somewhere, right?

The parasites that make money from prying into other people's lives got their noses tweaked when, despite their predictions, Giada and Bobby failed to materialize as a bona fide couple. Instead, she turned up with a new boyfriend. Well, the sleazeballs tried to generate heat out of that by claiming that she knew him while she was still married. Yeah? So what? He's a TV producer and she's on TV. Network execs were trying to get him to produce a project that would feature her. So, yeah, I would expect that they knew each other. And now the latest from the garbage dump is that Giada's new boyfriend is just a red herring. That she's just using him as a decoy because she and Bobby are still secretly planning to get married. Uffa!

Well, I don't know either of them well enough to be involved in their personal lives.....and neither do you. I've met both of them and spent time talking about food and cooking with each of them, but the subject of their sleeping arrangements somehow never came up. And you know what? I. Don't. Care! And neither should you. And the reason none of us should care is quite simple: it's none of our damn business!

Thanks to “reality” television and its Internet offspring, our society has carried the cult of celebrity way too far. It used to be that “celebrities” were the people who personified our fantasies, dreams, and ambitions on the stage and the silver screen. They were the “glitterati.” We wanted to see them so we could be them. When Clark Gable took off his shirt onscreen and revealed that he wasn't wearing an undershirt, undershirt sales plummeted. When Lana Turner wore a sweater, sweater sales soared. Musicians like Frank Sinatra, Elvis, and The Beatles inspired intense scrutiny and generated screaming hordes of manic followers desperate for the merest scraps of association with their idols.

Fast forward to today and the people who currently personify our fantasies, dreams, and ambitions. Frankly, I could not possibly care less about the goings on between Mama June and Sugar Bear. I don't care if he wears an undershirt and she wears a sweater. I wouldn't care if she wore the undershirt and he wore the sweater. And their offspring, Honey Boo-Boo, is a brat. I don't care if the Robertson family has its ducks in a row and the “Real Housewives” of any particular place can just stay home. I. Don't. CARE! Kim Kardashian can run naked and Miley Cyrus can run amok and I still don't care. If I want to observe drama on a daily basis, I have in-laws! If I want pathos and bathos – or maybe Porthos and Athos, for that matter – I have family and friends. I don't need reality on TV: I'm up to my ass in it in real life.

And that's why I don't care what Bobby and Giada may or may not be doing. Because, in the final analysis, they're not celebrities. They're just a couple of cooks, for Pete's sake! Twenty or so years ago, Bobby was a high school dropout who was working his way up the New York City food ladder and Giada was the not-at-all famous granddaughter of a famous movie producer who was slogging it out in the restaurant trenches in LA. Would you have cared two whits about whether they were cheating on their spouses and screwing around with each other back then? So why should you care now? I don't. I care a lot more about what they put on the plates than I do about what they do under the sheets. Because what they do in the kitchen matters and what they do in the bedroom doesn't. Hey, I hear my plumber's wife has been getting it on with the husband of the woman who cuts my hair. Do you suppose I should call the National Enquirer?

I know, I know. “Public figures” are fair game. But who made them “public figures,” anyway? The public, that's who. Or, at least, the element of said public that has no life of its own and has to live vicariously through others. The defining line between real “celebrities” like Gable and Elvis and manufactured “celebrities” like Bobby and Giada is that the former actively sought out celebrity. They wanted to be “stars.” Giada and Bobby didn't. They never aspired to be “public figures.” When Bobby was working for Jonathan Waxman and when Giada was working for Wolfgang Puck, all they ever wanted to be was good cooks. Giada had an obvious leg up in the entertainment business, but she didn't want it. She just wanted to cook. When they were offered the chance to cook on TV, it wasn't a “star vehicle” they saw; it was just the next step up the ladder to success in the kitchen. Get on TV and get some exposure for your restaurant or get a boost for your career. We made them public figures: they just wanted to be cooks. In our obsession to idolize and glamorize and deify anybody who puts their face in front of a camera these days, we decided that we had the right to build them up and to tear them down. But we don't. They're still people. People just like us. “Enquiring minds want to know”? Maybe we should just mind our own business.

So leave Giada and Bobby alone. Let them cook. If they both got kicked off TV today, never to return to the public eye again, that's still what they would do. So watch their TV shows and try their recipes, or visit their restaurants and eat their food. Don't make them celebrities and they won't be celebrities. Then the only reason you'll have for being involved in their personal lives is if they up and start screwing on your table between the salad course and the entree. Otherwise, butt out.

Latina News Anchor Uses CORRECT Pronunciation and Ruffles Viewers' Feathers

She Should Try Italian

An interesting story made the news cycle recently; a Latina news anchor in Arizona had the gall, the temerity, the unmitigated chutzpah to appropriately accent and correctly pronounce Spanish words on TV. And the tar was warmed and the chickens plucked by idiots who adhere to the idea that “this here is uh-MER-ica and she ort to be talkin' like a reg'lar uh-MER-ican.”

Vanessa Ruiz, a broadcaster with 12 News in Phoenix, was born to Latino parents in Miami, grew up in Colombia, studied in Spain, and traveled much of South America and Europe before starting her journalism career in the U.S. She is an intelligent, well-educated woman who understands her heritage and respects its language. And here she is being called down because she doesn't say Spanish words the way Americans – the intellectual cornerstones of modern civilization – say them.

She trips pinhead's triggers by rolling her “r”s. And she sets off lamebrain laments among the clodpoll contingent because she properly pronounces Spanish place names that local yokels long ago bastardized to fit their limited linguistic abilities. “It's MAY-suh, dammit, not MESS-ah. Talk like an American if yore gonna live in America.” Because we all know that the American way is the only correct, legitimate, flawless, inerrant, divinely ordained way to do things, right?

I can relate to her predicament. It's a battle I've been fighting on the Italian front for years. And, as Ms. Ruiz is finding out, it's an uphill fight.

Seldom has George Bernard Shaw's aphorism, “Never wrestle with a pig; you get dirty and the pig likes it” been more true than in the face of stubborn lexical resistance. People know what they know and what they know is right regardless of what you know, you know? I can't tell you how many vacant stares I've gotten from clueless servers in pseudo-Italian restaurants when I have tried to correct their egregiously incorrect pronunciation of words like “bruschetta” and “marinara.” When I explain the proper Italian pronunciations, the blank looks usually transform into simpering smiles. And I know that behind those smiles is the thought, “you poor stupid old geezer,” as if I am the benighted one in the conversation!

The sad truth is that most Americans simply don't give a cazzo volante about what they say or how they say it. As long as they can manage to grunt out a basic level of communication, the finer points of language are pointless and immaterial. They don't care, and if you try to disturb their ignorance they will resent you for it. As Ms. Ruiz is discovering.

Ms. Ruiz commented on Facebook that she was surprised her on-air remarks had led to such a “dynamic conversation.” She went on to say that she intended no disrespect. Indeed, she says her pronunciation is an attempt to offer respect to the heritage of some of Arizona's original settlers. Good luck with that tack, young lady. Timothy Hogan, executive director of the Arizona Center for Law in the Public Interest, explains, “My observation is people generally feel threatened by use of communication that they are unfamiliar with.” Bingo!

Ask Giada De Laurentiis. You know what constitutes one of the biggest criticisms haters launch against her? It's not her smile or her cleavage or, most recently, her relationship status. It's the way she pronounces Italian words. People don't like the way she says “spaghetti.” Could her pronunciation be the result of being born in Rome to an Italian family? Ya think? Doesn't matter. People still get all up in her face about it because they believe she is being “uppity” or “pretentious.” Yeah. I hear that one a lot, too. Comes with the territory when your vocabulary is made up of words containing more than one syllable.

One of my favorite excuses for the mangling of Italian words – or any other “foreign” language – is the old “common usage” chestnut. That fallacy holds that an incorrectly pronounced word becomes correct through repetition and common usage. In other words, if enough people say something wrong, it becomes right. My response to that inanity comes from French novelist, journalist, and poet Anatole France, “If fifty million people say a foolish thing, it is still a foolish thing.”

And the “language is a living thing, always growing and evolving” theory may explain recent additions to the OED like “jeggings” and “staycation” and “twerk,” but it still doesn't excuse the outright mispronunciation of legitimate words.

Americans harbor the conceit that they invented English and that their version of the language is the only valid and correct one. Just look at all the funny things those stupid people from England say. You'd think they'd learn how to speak proper English, wouldn't you? Everybody knows that “can't” rhymes with “ant,” not whatever silly way they say it in England. And how dare all those foreigners from France and Spain and Italy – excuse me, “IT-ly” – all come over here and try to tell us that we are pronouncing their words wrong! The ungrateful so-and-sos. They'd all be speaking German if it wasn't for us, so they can just take what we say and like it.

Come to think of it, the name “America” itself is based on an Italian name, that of Amerigo Vespucci,.......and it's mispronounced by the majority of Americans. Listen to the way the “Sharks” sing it in West Side Story. The members of the Puerto Rican gang pronounce it perfectly. Not that I realistically expect anybody to start saying “ah-MEH-ree-cah” anytime soon, but there it is.

Now, the hot button issue of speaking foreign languages in America is a whole different argument. Although English is the traditionally predominant language in the United States, the country, in fact, has no “official” or “state” language. (Apparently, at least one of the dimmer bulbs on the political Christmas tree thinks that “American” is a language of its own and that Americans should speak “American,” but.......consider the source.) However since English is the predominant language here, its usage should be encouraged, if not mandated. My mother spoke no English when she started school in the U.S. in the 1920s. Now, the current PC way of handling that situation would be to change all the school's signage to something more “inclusive” and to provide Mom with textbooks written in her own language. But in those unenlightened days, rather than forcing everyone in the school to learn her language, she was made to learn theirs before she could advance. And that's the way it should be.

All of which rather circuitously leads me back to my main point: English is English, Spanish is Spanish, Italian is Italian, etc. Every language is “correct” within itself. But when non-native speakers attempt them, that's where the trouble starts because some people are simply not capable of assimilating speech that is not their own. When my sister was learning Spanish, a woman in her class, frustrated with her own ineptitude, put her finger on the problem when she said, “My Southern tongue just won't wrap itself around some of those words.” Some people can't roll an “r” to save their lives, and certain vowel sounds and consonant combinations are just beyond their comprehension. And those are the very people most likely to mangle a word from another language and justify the abuse by declaring, “Well, that's the way we say it in America.” 

And therein lies the crux of my issue: so-called “foreign” words are either right or they are wrong. They are either correctly rendered in the manner of those who speak them as a native tongue, or they are incorrect. There is no “American way” of saying an Italian word. Or a Spanish one. Or an Armenian one. Such words are either correctly pronounced as they would be by native speakers, or they are incorrect. Only in America do we have the hubris to take another culture's language, twist it out of shape, and then tell the native speaker that he or she is wrong. When a “foreigner” mispronounces an English word, it's funny. Everybody laughs at his accent and he is ridiculed and stigmatized as being unintelligent. But when an American screws up a word in somebody else's language.....“well, that's the way we say that word in America.”

Bravissima, Vanessa Ruiz. Or should I say muy bueno? You keep right on rolling those “r”s and correctly pronouncing those Spanish words. Don't back down, don't give up, and don't dumb yourself down for the sake of the plebeian ignorant. I'm with you, mia sorella, every step of the way.

Say.......how'd you like to try your hand at Italian?

More Giada De Laurentiis-Hating Drivel

Hosing Down the Flames of Irrational Hatred

About five years ago I wrote a piece entitled, “Giada De Laurentiis: Don't Hate Her Because She's Beautiful.” In it I attempted to point out the absurdity of hating on a person you don't really know.

Hate is an example of an extreme emotion, one often devoid of rational purpose. It represents a deep dislike directed toward individuals, groups, objects, or ideas. Hatred is often associated with feelings of anger, disgust, and a disposition towards hostility. It is described by Sigmund Freud as “an ego state that wishes to destroy the source of its unhappiness.”

It is an unfortunate reality of modern life that the Internet provides both a haven and an outlet for the small-minded and the big-mouthed, people often described in the vernacular as “haters.” Secure in their anonymity, they bloviate endlessly about the objects of their misguided emotions. Hence, it was surprising to me that it took five years for an anonymous hater to crawl out of the woodwork and fire off a farrago of baseless drivel regarding my defense of Ms. De Laurentiis. In typical fashion, the author took potshots at both my subject and me. She wrote:

“You are either a complete idiot, delusional or related to the aforementioned Giada. Your blinded love for the grimacing bobblehead Giada De Laurentiis has apparently resulted in mental illness. You have made the absurd assumption that all who have expressed a dislike for your beloved Giada are either obese or "flat chested". I fall into neither one of those categories as I am sure many other Giada"haters" do not as well. As an extremely trim and very attractive and educated woman in my own right, I can say that it is damn sure not jealously that fuels my dislike for De Laurentiis. De Laurentiis has a smile that could easily scare off wild animals when she bears those teeth. Not to mention that freakishly large head of hers and her obvious need for male attention. Those pushup bras she struts while cooking ain't for the ladies my dimwitted friend and fyi, I am definitely not lacking in the boob department just in case you're wondering. Your demented and long-winded diatribe makes you sound more like a potential stalker than an actual fan. Get help!”

I rarely rise to such obvious bait. I usually just delete it and forget it. And I probably should have done that in this case, but I didn't. I chose to respond as follows:

“Wow. Congratulations on leaving me almost speechless. Almost. The pathos engendered by your vitriolic harangue prompts me to leave it posted for awhile just for the comic benefit. But allow me to respectfully suggest that I am not the one in need of "help," mia tesoro.

In the first place, before you rant on and on about the level of your education, please learn the difference between 'bear' and 'bare.' Giada does, indeed, bear teeth. Probably thirty-two of them. And I suspect she would bare them over the blustering fulminations of a self-identified 'hater.'

Before we discuss my 'mental illness,' may I point out that hating someone over superficial physical attributes is none too healthy? Have you ever met Giada or spent time in her presence? I didn't think so. I have, even though I am not a relative or a bosom buddy. (Pun intended.) She's large-breasted. Wow. What a reason to hate somebody. Does Dolly Parton – another busty acquaintance of mine – make your hate list, too? Giada's head appears to be too large for her small frame. That should certainly cause an 'educated' person to hate her. And most egregious of all, she smiles too much. My God! Off with her bobblehead!

I don't limit or cheapen myself with a ridiculous focus on physical characteristics. I'm not as fixated on 'boobs' as you seem to be. Neither a brainless Neanderthal fanboy nor a 'potential stalker,' I simply appreciate Giada's personality, talent, and ability. Those are the things that make her beautiful in my estimation. I have made the effort to look beyond the construct of Food Network executives and producers and see the person underneath as somebody I enjoy watching, learning from, and knowing.

I talked to Giada once about 'haters.' Her take on the subject was simple: 'I think that people will talk about you regardless, and it doesn't matter whether you're doing great or you're not doing great, up or down, there's always going to be haters and there's always going to be people who like you and you just can't please everybody.' And I don't think she wastes too much time trying to please the likes of you.

I will bring yet another long-winded diatribe to a close with a final question: the word 'demented' is defined as 'driven to behave irrationally due to anger, distress, or excitement.' Based on our respective comments, which of us does that more accurately describe?”

I feel better now, but beyond that, I believe I have yet again validated my point that it is ludicrous to “hate” another human being based merely upon their outward appearance. Isn't that the basis of racism?

I don't particularly care for Sandra Lee. Or Paula Deen. Rachael Ray is not among my favorites. But I don't go off frothing at the mouth about Sandra's figure or Paula's age or Rachael's voice. I've seen them all on TV and I've seen some of them in person and my antipathy is based not on physical shortcomings but on intangible aspects of their personalities that I simply don't like. I know people who think Giada is fake and pretentious. That's their takeaway based on what they see on TV and there's not much that she or anybody else can do about it. You know what opinions are akin to and everybody's got one. But to “hate” someone based on the largeness of her breasts is a sure indicator of the smallness of the hater's mind. And throwing around terms like “freakishly large” and “grimacing bobblehead” and describing a person's smile as being capable of scaring wild animals is petty, narrow, and mean-spirited in the extreme. Certainly not the milieu of an “educated” person. The commenter sings her own praises with her description of her attractiveness and takes pains to point out that she is “definitely not lacking in the boob department just in case you're wondering.” Believe me, I wasn't. But what if, in my own perception, I found her knees to be knobby and her butt to be broad? What if I think she has “freakishly large” feet? Does that give me the right to define her as a person? If there was a sway to her hips that I found suggestive, would I be justified in standing in the midst of a crowd screaming “slut?” Best reexamine your vaunted education, cara, because your pettifogging intolerance is showing.

I like Giada. You want to know who else I like? I like Lidia Bastianich and Mary Ann Esposito. And I damn sure ain't fawning over the latter pair because of their looks. (Hmmmm.......come to think of it, Lidia smiles an awful lot, too. Maybe I have a secret desire to be a dentist.) You can call me dimwitted – oh, you already did – but I don't give a rat's ass about the size of Giada's breasts or her head or the third toe on her left foot. The woman is Italian and she can cook. I'm part Italian and I can cook. In Italian that's an example of simpatico, a word with a lot of meanings but one which generally conveys a sense of liking someone just because. If that makes me an idiot or delusional, well.....guilty as charged.

Bottom line, don't hate Giada or anybody else because they are beautiful or ugly, short or tall, young or old, or because they write blogs. Save your negative emotion for people who are bigoted, trivial, narrow-minded, petty, blinkered, or obsessed with physicality. They are the ones who truly deserve it.

“Giada” Makes My Ears Bleed

And So Do “Gianni,” “Giovanni,” and Other Badly Pronounced Italian Names

I just finished listening to a news report about Giada De Laurentiis' eponymous new restaurant in Las Vegas. And it made my ears bleed. Not the subject of the interview, and certainly not the namesake thereof, for I am acquainted with Giada and find her to be a completely lovely person. No, what made my ears bleed was yet another clueless media “personality” savagely mispronouncing a beautiful Italian name. When the dolt started bleating “jee-AH-dah,” “jee-AH-dah,” “jee-AH-dah” over and over again, the bleeding commenced.

To staunch this aural hemorrhaging, may I humbly suggest that reporters, interviewers, announcers, talk show hosts, masters of ceremonies, and other so-called “professionals” exercise a bit of due diligence and learn how to eff-ing pronounce the name of their subject!

“Giada” has only two syllables. The accent is on the first one. It is pronounced “JAH-dah.” Some purists will demand the more technically correct “JYAH-dah.” But the name never, ever, ever contains three syllables and is never, ever, ever pronounced “jee-AH-dah.”

In really basic Italian pronunciation, there are certain monosyllabic clusters that have specific sounds. “Gi” has a soft sound like the English “je.” When such a cluster is followed by a further vowel – “a” for example – the first vowel sound, in this case the “i”, becomes silent and the English “je” sound is followed by the sound of the second vowel. Thus, “gia” is not “JEE-ah,” but rather simply “JAH.” Hence, “Giada” is never sounded as “jee-AH-dah,” but as “JAH-dah.” There. Was that so difficult? Actually, the phenomenon is not limited to Italian. Think of the English word “relieve,” for example. Do you say “ree-LY-eev?” Of course not. The “i” sound becomes silent and the “e” sound dominates.

The same principle applies to the name “Gianni.” It is not “jee-AH-nee.” It is “JAHN-nee.” The late Gianni Versace comes to mind. Well, there's actually another rule in play here; each letter of a double consonant has a distinct sound. They don't just run together. In the case of “Gianni,” the first “n” is the last sound of the first syllable and the second “n” is the first sound of the second. Sorry if that confuses the basic issue.

Another example that sets my teeth on edge is the name “Giovanni.” Same cluster rule is in effect. The name is not, never has been, nor will it ever be “jee-oh-VAH-nee.” It is “joh-VAHN-nee.” The double consonant rule applies here, too.

Similarly, “Giuseppe” is not pronounced “jee-oo-SEP-ee.” Rather, it is “joo-ZEP-pay.” There are some specific pronunciation rules in effect here, too, but I'm not going to go into a discussion of all twenty-one letters of the Italian alphabet right now. Just trust me on this one.

With all of its silent letters, homonyms, homophones, diphthongs, and other unusual parts of speech, English is not a particularly easy language. But for some reason, English-speakers in general and Americans in particular have a horrible time wrapping their tongues around most “foreign” words. Just yesterday, I was in a conversation with a woman who could not for the life of her spit out the name of the cookery store, Sur la Table. It came out sounding like “Sir lah Tay-bel.” And I frequently run screaming from Italian restaurants when I hear people ordering things like “kuh-PREESE” salads (Caprese) or “broo-SHET-uh” (bruschetta). Oddly enough, though, Americans go miles out of their way to be impeccably correct in pronouncing the most complex of Spanish words and names. I've never heard anybody order a “kwes-uh-DILL-uh” (quesadilla) at “Tack-oh” Bell, but they'll murdelize the marinara at Olive Garden. “Mare-uh-NARE-uh”. Ugh! What a nasty thing to do to a beautiful word. And I've yet to hear anybody with the name “Juan” be addressed as “JEW-an.” Some folks even go so far as to more correctly sound the name as “Hwahn” rather than just “Wahn.” But ask the average American for “JAH-dah” instead of “jee-AH-dah” and they look at you as if you're insane. I don't get it.

Of course, Italians don't have a monopoly on name pronunciation issues. My French-Canadian Uncle Louis (Loo-EE or LOO-ee) fought a lifelong uphill battle against being identified as “Lewis.” He ultimately settled for “Lou.” At least my Uncle George never had to contend with people trying to call him “JEE-orj.”

As far as pronouncing “Giada” is concerned, I asked her about it once. I mean, you'd think a body would get pretty pissed about having their name mispronounced for forty-some years, right? Not so much. Giada's developed a fairly philosophical attitude about it and says that a lot of her friends just call her “G.” Okay by me. Not my ox getting gored. But I would think that one could determine one's true friends based upon their ability to …..oh, I don't know....correctly pronounce one's name. And maybe the common schlub from Steubenville or Schenectady can be somewhat forgiven for having difficulty with a wildly “exotic” name like “Giada”.......or “Gianni” or whatever. After all, there are many people born and raised in the USA for whom English could still be considered a foreign language. But my former brethren in the media should not be among such. They are supposedly paid to know better. It is incumbent upon them as “professionals” to at least have a modicum of knowledge regarding the subject about which they are speaking. Such knowledge should probably begin with at least being able to pronounce a person's name.

You Can't Have a Panini.......or Raviolis, Either

I'll Choose Correct, If You Don't Mind. Or Even If You Do

I was in an eatery the other day that touted the fact that they had paninis for sale. And the menu listed all the paninis individually. You could have a chicken panini, a ham and swiss panini, a turkey panini, a roasted tomato and mozzarella panini, and a bunch more paninis. There's only one problem: you can't

have a panini. Actually, you can't have paninis, either. So, I guess that's two problems.

You say, “What do you mean? Of course I can have a panini. Lot's of places sell paninis.”

<Sigh> You can't have a panini because “panini” is plural. And you can't sell paninis because “paninis” isn't a word. You don't make something that is already plural more plural by adding an “s” to it. Now, if you want a nice Italian sandwich and you order a chicken (or ham or turkey or whatever) panino, I'm sure it will not only be delicious, it will also be grammatically correct. And if you order two or more of them, then you will, indeed, have panini on your plate. You will not, however, have “paninis,” for such do not exist.

The same applies if you order those wonderfully rich and filling little pillows of stuffed pasta. If you have a bowlful, you have ravioli. If you stick a fork in one and eat it, you have consumed a raviolo. And you can't have “raviolis” for the same reason you can't have “paninis.”

“Pish posh,” you say (especially if you're Mary Poppins.) “Nobody really says 'panino' and 'raviolo'.” To which I reply, “Italians do, and so do people who want to be right.”

Please don't start singing the old “common usage” or “colloquialism” songs. I've heard them a hundred times and they don't get any better with repetition. I'm told, “A word becomes a part of the language through common usage; it's called a 'colloquialism'.” Okay, in the first place, a word that is incorrectly used is still incorrect, no matter how often it is incorrectly used. And if you look up “colloquialism,” you will find that it is defined as a word used in informal speech in place of a more formally accepted word. None of which makes it right, thankyewverymuch.

It is a part of English-speaking arrogance, I suppose, that assumes every language in the world pluralizes by adding the letter “s.” Italian does not. Italian nouns are made plural by changing the ending of the word, often according to gender. Feminine nouns – those that usually end in “a” – take the ending letter “e” in their plural form. Masculine nouns that end in “o” take the letter “i” in plural form. These are broad general rules, but I'm trying to prove a specific point here, not give an in depth language lesson. The point is, you don't put an “s” on any Italian word to make it plural.

I got into an argument with a Neapolitan friend of mine over cannoli. I say the plural rules apply and he disagrees. “You're right about the others,” he allows, “but not about cannoli. It's just cannoli, no matter what.” I disagree with his disagreement. And I have several other Italian friends and numerous dictionaries to back me up. You can have cannoli, but you can't have a cannoli. Or “cannolis.”

Here are a few other things you can't have: you can't have a cannelloni, you can't have a manicotti, you can't have a crespelle, and you can't have a gnocchi. Similarly, adding “s” to any of these words will not make them plural-er, but it will get you eye rolls from Italians.

There are a couple of words where I am almost forced to acknowledge the application of the “common usage” ploy: one of them is zucchini and the other is pizzas. Although technically a single squash fruit is a zucchina and the correct plural is zucchine, it becomes masculine and a zucchino in the Tuscan dialect, the plural for which is zucchini. To avoid all the confusion, just go with zucchini. I'm forced to give that one up. Same thing for pizzas. A single pie is a pizza; more than one are pizze, but “pizzas” is just so overwhelmingly prevalent. It's still wrong, of course, and I bite my tongue whenever I catch myself saying it. But that's a battle I'll lose, so I don't fight it.

The plural of “pasta” is paste, not “pastas,” but that one usually gets a pass, too. And even though there really are proper singular forms of spaghetti, linguini, and macaroni, such are classified as “uncountable nouns” which have no plural form. (“Milk,” for example, is an uncountable noun.)

And lest you think people who spell “lasagne” with an “e” are either stupid or pretentious, rest assured they are neither. “Lasagne” is the proper plural of “lasagna.” No “s,” per favore. When you put a bunch of single lasagna noodles together, you get lasagne, not “lasagnas.”

A lot of people criticize Giada De Laurentiis for what they consider her over-pronouncing of Italian words like “spaghetti,” which she enunciates as “spah-GAYT-tee.” Sorry, folks, but she's right. It just sounds funny coming out of her mouth because, even though she was born in Rome and didn't speak a word of English when she came here as a child, she doesn't otherwise have an Italian accent. Her aunt, Raffaella, or “Raffy,” as she calls her, has a very pronounced accent, so Italian words sound more natural with her. But when Giada the California girl properly says the same word, she gets accused of being “fake” and “pretentious.”

I get similar critiques and comments from people who think I'm “showing off” or “putting on” when I correctly pronounce things in Italian. How the hell you can be “pretentious” or a “show off” for properly pronouncing a word is beyond me. I guess if people like Giada and me would just stick to saying “spuh-GETTY” and “MARE-uh-NARE-uh” like the “common usage” folks do, we'd be in for less criticism. But we'd also be doing a great disservice to a beautiful language. So, given the choice between being correct and being “common,” I'll choose correct, if you don't mind. Or even if you do.

I'm going to quit now before I drag out my other “proper pronunciation” soapbox, the one I mount when I want to talk about employees of Italian restaurants who butcher the pronunciation of Italian dishes. Servers in Mexican places would sound stupid if they talked about “TACK-ohs” and “qwes-uh-DILL-uhs,” wouldn't they? But nobody minds when Italian waiters say “broo-SHET-uh” and “MARE-uh-NARE-uh.” My friends say, “Well, you shouldn't be so critical. That's just the way they learned.” <deep breaths, deep breaths> But I won't do that right now. I'm fine. Really. And I like the sounds of nails on a blackboard and squeaky tennis shoes on wet floors.

And I wouldn't dream of advocating that you carry a black marker and fix all those menus that have the word “panini█” on them. But it's a thought.

A Giada De Laurentiis Pork Chop Recipe My Wife Says Is "A Keeper"

I was scrounging around for something to fix for dinner the other night. I had neither the time nor the energy to hit the produce market, the meat market, or the grocery store -- even though none are more than five minutes from home. Lazy, huh?

So I took a look in the freezer and found some wonderful pork chops and then skimmed through my collezione di ricette to find something delicious to do with them. This slight modification of a recipe from Giada De Laurentiis was definitely it. My wife paused her eating only long enough to pronounce it "a keeper" before renewing her membership in the "clean plate club."

COSTOLETTE DI MAIALE PARMIGIANO-CROSTOSO
(Parmesan-Crusted Pork Chops)

2 large eggs
1 cup panko bread crumbs, seasoned with Italian seasoning
3/4 cups freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano
4 (1/2 to 3/4-inch thick) center-cut pork loin chops (each about 10 to 12 oz)
kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
6 tablespoons olive oil
     Lemon wedges, for garnish

Set up a 3-pan breading station. (I actually have a 3-pan breading station. If you don't, use pie plates or shallow dishes.) Whisk the eggs lightly, to blend, in one pan. Place the seasoned bread crumbs in another pan. Place the cheese in the third pan. Season the pork chops generously with salt and pepper. Dredge the chops in the cheese first, making sure to coat them completely and patting to adhere. Then dip the chops into the eggs, then finally coat them completely with the bread crumbs, again patting to adhere.

Heat 3 tablespoons of oil in a very large skillet over medium heat. Add pork chops, in batches if necessary, and cook until golden brown and the center reaches 150°, about 6 minutes per side.

Transfer the chops to plates and serve garnished with lemon wedges.

Serves 4

I served these with a side of herbed oven-roasted potatoes and some sugar snap peas (one of my wife's favorites.) A nice Merlot rounded out a perfect meal.

Buon appetito!

At Last! A Conversation With Giada De Laurentiis

I guess it's no secret that I like and admire Giada De Laurentiis. I have previously written a couple of pieces defending her from jealous and/or uninformed detractors, scribblings which several thousand of you have read, thankyewverymuch. In those missives I openly admit that my opinions are based solely upon television viewing, for I had never had the pleasure of meeting Giada in person. Until recently. And the results of that meeting have placed me even more firmly in her corner. Bad-mouthing nitwits, twits, and gits should be ashamed of their ignorance. Giada De Laurentiis is a truly nice person.

My only critique of my first “Giada Experience” is that, unlike Bobby Flay and other culinary celebs I've hooked up with, Giada's retinue is more reflective of her Hollywood roots. She has “handlers” and “people” and agents who form barriers and hold up hoops through which one must jump in order to get close to their “star.” Now, at the risk of sounding conceited, folks, this was not my first rodeo. Over a career spanning nearly forty years in the entertainment business, I have developed calluses on my elbows from rubbing them with “stars.” I have shared stages and backstages with celebrities of every stripe and agents, handlers and “people” just don't impress me. And they seldom deter me, either.

Thanks to some quality interference running from PR maven extraordinaire Jill Collins, I finally got some face time with my personal culinary goddess between demo shows at the recent Metropolitan Cooking and Entertaining Show in Atlanta. And, man, was it worth the effort.

First, a few words about Giada's live demo show. Warm. Fun. Engaging. Charming. Open. Enjoyable. Much like the woman herself. No pun intended, but people were eating out of her hand the minute she stepped onto the stage. She fielded questions from the audience, cooked side-by-side with eager volunteers, and presented delicious food in a manner that said, “C'mon. You can do this, too.” Kind of like a live, interactive version of “Everyday Italian.”

Back in the “green room,” it was pretty obvious that Giada was a little tired. Even so, she was unfailingly warm and gracious as we were introduced. Seated in a large overstuffed chair, she seemed even more diminutive than she does on TV. But that dazzling smile – the one that so many goofs criticize as “fake” – was, indeed, very real and immediately lent an open and friendly aura to the conversation that followed. Because the room's seating arrangement wasn't exactly optimal for small recording devices, Giada obligingly allowed me to sit literally at her feet as we chatted. And never once did I drool on her shoes.

RJ: Let me start by clarifying two things: First of all, your name is “Giada.”

GDL: Yes....

RJ: It has two syllables: “jah-dah.” It's not “gee-ah-dah.”

GDL: It's not. It's actually “jyah-dah.”

RJ: Means “jade.”

GDL: Correct, it does. But, you know, I answer to almost anything. So a lot of people who can't pronounce my name, I just tell them to call me “G.”

RJ: And the other thing to clarify is the fact that, yes, you really are a cook. You really are a chef. You do have formal training, you do have experience. I know you don't need any defense from people like me, but I have actually written some things defending you against the people who have always said, “Oh, she's just a pretty face.”

GDL: (sighs) I know.

RJ: But, no, that's not true. You really do have the background to justify your position in the culinary world, correct?

GDL: I do. I think that … I think it's going to be an ongoing battle forever. But that's okay. I think that the proof is in the pudding, and I truly believe that if I didn't have the culinary chops and I didn't write recipes that worked and that people loved, I guess I wouldn't be here almost ten years later. And you know, I think that people will talk about you regardless, and it doesn't matter whether you're doing great or you're not doing great, up or down, there's always going to be haters and there's always going to be people who like you and you just can't please everybody. My food isn't for everyone. It just isn't. It's my food, the way I like it, and some people will like it and some people won't and that's okay.

RJ: Well, now, you know, I talked to some people in line here before...this morning...for your book signing, and one of the questions I was asking them is, “Why are you such a fan of Giada's? Why do you like Giada De Laurentiis?” And I got the same answer....

GDL: They're all like, “Wait! That's who I'm here to see? It's not Paula Deen? This is the wrong day!” Just teasing.

RJ: ... but I got the same answer from a lot of them, and that was, “because Giada's food is so approachable. It's so easy. You know, I watch Giada on TV and I think, 'I could cook like that.'” Is that kind of where you wanted to go when you started out with “Everyday Italian” and through the progression of shows and things you've done since then? To make your food and your cooking accessible to people?

GDL: I think when I started “Everyday Italian” my goal was to allow people to be able to make really good, easy Italian food at home. The way my mom did. And I think that most people believed that in order to get great Italian food you had to go to an Italian restaurant. You couldn't possibly recreate those dishes at home. And I wanted to demystify that. My mom made great Italian food, very simple. You know, there were four kids to feed and I felt like, wait a second...I don't think you guys realize that great Italian food is actually very simple and that if you go to an Italian's house in Italy, you will not find the same food that you find in restaurants that's all gussied up. Italian food is not gussied up. And that's truly what my ultimate goal was. And I like to eat simple, good, clean food. You know, I'm not saying I'm a low-fat cook or a gluten-free cook or any of those things, but I like simple, good food. Just like many of my counterparts on Food Network do. Everybody has they're own spin on the food. This is my spin on my Italian food and all I ever wanted was for people to see it and to think, “I can do that, and I think my family's going to love it. And I can do it pretty easily and pretty quickly. And it's going to turn out every time and I'm going to wow my friends and family without spending tons and tons of time in the kitchen.” And I'm hoping that, ultimately, that has always been my goal and that is what I … you know, every time I write a recipe, that is what I'm thinking about.

RJ: There's your show and a lot of other shows that pioneered on the Food Network that we call the “dump and stir” shows, but it seems more now – and without biting the hand that feeds you too much – it seems more like we're going to shows about food as opposed to shows where you create food. Do you see that as a trend or do you think there's a place for both?

GDL: I definitely think there's a place for both. I think that's also why Food Network started the Cooking Channel, because there were a large group of people who really wanted to go back to the traditional just straight cooking show. They're really looking to learn and I think that Food Network...like MTV did. They started out with music videos but then they went to reality shows and you saw very few music videos, and so everybody sort of after awhile drifts apart from their main core audience. And so to go back to the core, they started Cooking Channel. And I think that my show, “Giada at Home,” at this point is more of a lifestyle show. Yes, there's recipes and cooking and I do teach you how to cook, but I also teach you how to live a certain type of lifestyle. Entertaining tips, etc, etc. And “Everyday Italian,” which is now on the Cooking Channel, is straight cooking demo, and so I do believe that there is a place for both things. People are looking for both. And there are some people that aren't looking for both and there's a place to find either one. So it's just amazing how it has exploded. Look at you, doing a job that you probably didn't think you could do ten years ago or didn't think there was a niche for it …

RJ: True.

GDL: ...so and now you do. Now there is.

RJ: Final thought: where do you think food is going? What do you see the direction...I ask everybody this. I asked Bobby Flay last year – it's my stock question. But what direction do you see food taking in the next few years? It's gone from cooking everything out of a box and a can, now we have more emphasis on fresh ingredients and things like that. So where do you see the trend?

GDL: I think people want healthier food. They want healthier, clean food and they want to know what's in their food. And I think people are starting to get away from buying canned and boxed items and realizing that it's really not good for you in the long term and not good for our children, and they're starting to...ah...look at...there's farmers markets all over this country. Five years ago you couldn't find that. Maybe you found it once a week in maybe a big city. Now you find them everywhere. People are looking for fresh, simple ingredients. People want to eat well, but they want creative ways to do that. So I really see a shift changing. I think people are getting away from fast food. I think they are getting away from processed food and boxed food. I think people are really spending time learning to actually cook food from scratch. And gardening. I think a lot of people are starting to plant little gardens in their backyard...

RJ: Again.

GDL: Again. It's so cyclical, you know what I mean?

RJ: Yeah, had one when I was a kid.

GDL: Yeah, but then we got away from it. Because of convenience. And because we wanted things quickly. Now we realize that that convenience is actually killing us and killing our children. So we're going to go back to what our parents did. And maybe spend a little more time understanding what we're putting in our bodies. You know, I think we spend a lot of money on a lot of superficial exterior things and we're not taking care of this vessel that has to carry us through a very long lifetime. And every single thing that you put in your mouth has a payoff. You will pay, one way or the other, for every single thing. And we should treat our bodies like a temple and only put the best stuff in it. That's where I think we're going. I think we're starting to realize that.

RJ: You could write for my blog.

GDL: I think it's wonderful! I do! I'm so proud that Americans are so interested in food. When I moved here with my family thirty-some years ago, it wasn't like this. TV dinners were the rage. That's what everybody ate.

RJ: There's been a sea change and I think you're part of it. People like you and your colleagues at the Food Network. I think...

GDL: I think Food Network has had a big impact. It's wonderful that they've embraced it. I mean, they could have chosen not to. And they did. And after 9-11 people are hungry for tradition and culture and love and connection. I mean, that's what food does for people. It connects people. And that's what they want. They want some kind of connection with somebody and I think that Food Network does a great job of giving them that in many different forms.

RJ: I thank you for your time. I know you're busy and I appreciate it.

GDL: Thank you.

RJ: Giada De Laurentiis, grazie mille!

GDL: Grazie ti!

A Fabulous Tomato Casserole Recipe That I Stole From Giada

Proof That I Can Make Something Besides Sauce Out Of Tomatoes!

I hope some of you will be in Atlanta on April 30 for the Metropolitan Cooking and Entertaining Show. I'll be there with my bib on, drooling over my Italian culinary goddess, Giada De Laurentiis from whom I shamelessly stole the following fabulous recipe. (Don't tell her, okay?) I've done a little tweaking and it's been a big hit everywhere I've served it.

CASSERUOLA DI VERDURA DI POMODORO

(Tomato Vegetable Casserole)

1 potato, peeled and cut into 1/4-inch slices

1 sweet potato, peeled and cut into 1/4-inch slices

1 red bell pepper, seeded and cut into 1/4-inch slices

2 carrots, peeled and cut into cut into 1/4-inch slices

2 tomatoes cut into 1/4-inch slices

1 red onion, thinly sliced

1 zucchini, cut into 1/4-inch slices

1/2 cup freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese

1/2 cup shredded mozzarella cheese

2 tablespoons Italian bread crumbs

Olive oil

Salt and pepper

Preheat the oven to 400°.

Lightly oil a 13 x 9 x 2 inch baking dish with olive oil. Evenly spread the potato and yam slices in a single layer and drizzle with olive oil, then lightly season with salt and pepper. Arrange another layer with the bell pepper and carrots and repeat the oil, salt and pepper.

Arrange the onion slices evenly over the vegetable mixture. Arrange the zucchini slices over the onion. Drizzle with olive oil. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Arrange the tomato slices over the zucchini.

Blend the Parmesan cheese and bread crumbs in a small bowl, then sprinkle the mixture over the top layer of tomatoes. Drizzle with a little olive oil.

Bake uncovered until the vegetables are tender and the Parmesan bread crumb topping begins to turn a golden brown, about 30 minutes. Add the mozzarella and continue to bake for another 10 minutes. Watch to make sure the mozzarella melts and browns but does not burn. Serve immediately.

Serves 6 to 8

As always, I advocate using the best fresh ingredients available. Fresh vegetables go without saying. You can get by with store-bought bread crumbs, but fresh are better. (I've got a great recipe for fresh Italian bread crumbs elsewhere on this site.) Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper are my seasonings of choice, but regular salt and pepper will work. Extra-virgin olive oil, of course. I highly recommend that you don't cheap up on the cheese. You'll be amazed at the flavor difference between fresh mozzarella and the waxy part-skim stuff that comes in bags or blocks. And we won't even mention the nasty crap in a green can that tries to pass itself off as Parmesan cheese, will we? If you can't find or afford Parmigiano-Reggiano, at least use a good domestic Parmesan.

Buon appetito!

More on the Sport of Giada Bashing

It's weird, you know. Not more than a week or so ago I published a piece on Giada De Laurentiis in which I strongly defended her against detractors who actively dislike her for the most inane reasons.

Days later, the garbage can liner known as "The Star" published one of its scurrilous manufactured scandals accusing Giada of having a fling with singer John Mayer -- a bit of libel  over which I hope both Giada and John sue the muckrakers dry. Then before the dust had settled, Giada's legendary grandfather, Dino, died.

Decent people everywhere extend  support to Giada and heartfelt condolences to the entire De Laurentiis family.

However, indecent people keep piling on. Case in point: I received a comment on my article as published on Associated Content. Some idiot named Lisa told me that I needed to get a clue. And she called me "dude." Two ways to immediately get my attention.

She continued her pointless rant by spouting all the usual blah-blah-blah...."the only reason Food Network hired her is because of her name and influence in Hollywood"...."she's not that good of a cook"..."her head is too big for her body"..."why does she have to show off her boobs"..."she should have some class"..."her phony smile"..."her fake Italian accent"...."nobody I know likes her"...etc, etc.

I deleted the moronic comment and now I wish I hadn't been so hasty. Why? Because this pathetically jealous heifer is the poster child for what I was writing about in the first place. Instead of deleting her comment, I should have copied it into the article as an example of the kind of narrow minded ignorance I was talking about.

Here we go again. Giada's supposed clout in Hollywood had nothing to do with her employment at Food Network. She was featured in a 2002 styling piece in "Food and Wine" magazine. Food Networks execs contacted her as a result of that article, not because of her "influence."

Obviously, Lisa, you're right about her cooking ability. Wolfgang Puck should have asked you for your opinion before he hired her at "Spago." And what do viewers of multiple Food Network programs know? Or readers of five bestselling cookbooks? Or instructors at Le Cordon Bleu? Or clients of GDL Foods? You're right, Lisa. She's such a hack.

Giada is a small person. She's just shy of 5' 2". She doesn't have a "big head," you dolt, she has a small body. Geez, what a reason to dislike somebody! Can you say "shallow?"

As to her bustline, Nigella Lawson, Claire Robinson, and some other female food celebs have worn some pretty "boob-ilicious" outfits on TV and I've never heard the sows squeal the way they do over Giada. Her husband's a clothing designer. Her outfits don't bother him -- he designs a lot of them -- so why should they bother you? As for Giada needing class, Lisa, three words: pot, kettle, black.

Her "phony" smile? Pleasant, happy people can be a real pain in the ass, can't they? Better they should be scowling and serious on national TV. That's what people like to see in Lisa's world.

My favorite idiocy is the one about Giada's "fake" Italian accent. How in the ever-lovin' hell can a woman born in Rome to Italian parents have a "fake" Italian accent? I'm sorry, you uneducated cretin, but Americans absolutely massacre most foreign languages. For instance, the "o" sound in Italian is always pronounced the way the "o" is sounded in words like "doe" or "slow." And the "e" is always pronounced like an English long "a", as in "day" or "play." You, Lisa, the epitome of liguistic sophistication, might say "mahtz-uh-rella," but the correct pronunciation is "mohts-a-ray-la." Giada's not fake, you ignorant simpleton, she's correct! Ever hear Mario Batali pronounce the same words? And he was born in Washington, for cryin' out loud! Why not crucify Mario for a "fake" accent? But then, that would mean letting facts interfere with a good irrational hatred of somebody.

"Nobody I know likes her." Well, if everybody you know is as unenlightened as you are, I shouldn't wonder. But the people who give out Emmy awards like her just fine. And so do all the people I know. So there! (I just love arguing like an adult!)

You know what, Lisa? Next time you post a comment, how about posting a picture of yourself with it? I'd love to see how you measure up next to Giada.

I joke about everybody having the right to my opinion. But, damn, woman! Can't you at least develop an educated opinion before you blather it all over the Net?

And you say I need to get a clue!

Giada De Laurentiis: Don't Hate Her Because She's Beautiful

You know, what Alan Jay Jay Lerner wrote of Henry Higgins in "My Fair Lady" could, under normal circumstances, easily be said of me:
"I'm a very gentle man, even tempered and good natured who you never hear complain,
Who has the milk of human kindness by the quart in every vein,
A patient man am I, down to my fingertips, the sort who never could, ever would,
let an insulting remark escape his lips. A very gentle man."

But...this is an open letter to all you wide-bottomed, flat-chested, 300 pound ugly women and to all you drooling, staring, impotent, ED geeks: back off and leave Giada De Laurentiis alone!

I'm so sick of seeing snarky crap posted on the Internet; “she's got such an enormous head,” “her nose is so ugly,” “why does she always have to show off her boobs,” “she's not really a chef.”

You people are pathetic. Let's face it, dudes, it's not that her head is too big; it's that your cazzone is too small. You could only be with a woman like Giada in your salacious dreams, and so you hate her just for being beyond your class. Get a life! I'm sorry that not everybody on the planet measures up to your exacting standards of beauty. I'm sure you think your buck-toothed, pimply-faced, scrawny cousin is the hottest thing on – or off – two feet, but to the rest of the civilized world, Giada is a knockout.

And you flat-chested, ugly chicks should just scale back the breast envy, okay? What do you people want? That she should wear a burqa on TV or put a bag over her head? If you jealous heifers don't like her cleavage, go slap her mama and daddy. It's not like it's her fault that she's not a 32-AA. Just because she's got the body you wish you had doesn't give you the right to plaster cyberspace with smarmy comments about her bustline. “But why does she have to show them off the way she does?” Three words: because she can. And because she's comfortable. Just like you are in that cotton mumu by Omar the Tentmaker. I'll bet you prudes had spasms when Pamela Anderson or Bo Derek used to run on the beach, right? Maybe you'd like her better in duct tape and baggy flannel, but the rest of us think she's fine just the way she is.

I've met, performed with, interviewed or otherwise become acquainted with a lot of “celebrities” over the years. You know what? Giada's not one of them. I'm not writing this because we're bosom buddies – and, yes, that was intentional. Funny, huh? Instead, I'm writing in support of somebody that I think is really remarkable. Not that she needs my support, but here it is.

She could have taken life's easy route. Her grandfather, Dino, is a Hollywood icon. Her aunt, Raffaella, the “Aunt Raffy” who sometimes shows up in her TV kitchen, is pretty noteworthy, too. Between them, they have produced a few movies you might be familiar with: La Strada, Anzio, Barbarella, The Battle of the Bulge, The Valachi Papers, Serpico, The Shootist, Death Wish, Three Days of the Condor, Halloween II, The Dead Zone, The Bounty, Hannibal, Red Dragon, U-571, Conan the Barbarian and Conan the Destroyer, Dune, Prancer, Kull The Conqueror, Dragonheart, Backdraft, Dragon: The Bruce Lee Story, Black Dog, Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow, and The Last Legion, just to name a few.

But Giada didn't want to trade on the family name. (Her name, by the way, means “Jade” in Italian and is pronounced “Jah-dah,” not “Gee-ah-dah.”) She wanted to be her own person and stand on her own merits in a career of her own making as far away from the “family business” as she could get. Growing up as she did among the Barrymores and the Sheens and the Douglases and the Fondas, that's a pretty remarkable ambition. Grandfather Dino or Aunt Raffy could have made her a star in a heartbeat, but that's not what she wanted. Whatsamatter, haters? Something there for which you can't pick her apart?

Food was a big part of her upbringing. Before he became world famous as a Hollywood producer, her grandfather sold the spaghetti his father produced in their home province of Naples. He also operated a restaurant in California, where Giada spent a lot of her time as a kid. So, eventually she decided to embark on a career in the food industry.

“She's not really a chef.” You know, there were a lot of peabrains who thought that Food Network had hired a shill when Giada first went on the air, and that she was really a model trying to “pass.” Do your homework, peabrains.

After she graduated from UCLA with a degree in anthropology, (not bad for somebody who's nothing but boobs) Giada went to Paris and studied at Le Cordon Bleu.

Gee, isn't that the same place Julia Child went? I guess she wasn't a chef, either. Or maybe, because she was six-foot-two, homely, gawky and she talked funny, she was the right kind of chef. The non-threatening kind. The kind that reminded you of your mother instead of the hot chick next door.

Now, Julia opened her own cooking school before she went on TV, so I suppose that gave her enough street cred to call herself “The French Chef.”

Giada, who has never referred to herself as any kind of chef, only worked in the kitchens at the Ritz Carlton and put in time with Wolfgang Puck at Spago before she started her own catering company. Why would any of that qualify her to stand next to such luminaries as Rachael Ray or Paula Deen on TV? I mean, how can Le Cordon Bleu match up with Rachael's experience as a cooking demonstrator at a grocery store? And I guess self-taught Paula's catering business, “The Bag Lady”, gives her better credibility than classically trained Giada's “GDL Foods” catering business?

I've even seen haters pile on Giada for the way she talks. “I can't stand the way she says 'spa-gay-tee'.” Well, ninny-whiners, while “spug-et-ee” might be more in keeping with her California upbringing, “spa-gay-tee” is more appropriate for her Roman birth. At least she comes by it honestly. I never figured out how California girl Julia Child ever picked up that Oxford accent she always affected.

I know! Maybe Giada needs a little raunch to make her more likeable. After all, she's just so boring, what with her being married to her longtime sweetheart and having an adorable little daughter with him. Maybe she should post some hot, sexy love letters between herself and Todd. Or maybe a naked shot of the two of them in a bubble bath? Both devices worked for Julia and Paul. Or perhaps she should talk about feminine hygiene products at her live appearances. If Paula can keep her audience in stitches with tales of ill-fitting adult diapers, Giada could probably slay 'em with talk about tampons or something.

If you think I'm exaggerating about cyber bullies ganging up on Giada, check out these sites:

http://gedmaheux.wordpress.com/2007/06/25/giada-how-i-hate-thee/

http://www.experienceproject.com/groups/Hate-Giada-De-Larentiss/119956

or this Facebook gem http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=2218687167 that proclaims “Giada De Laurentiis is quite possibly the worst human who has ever lived.”

These pitiful people are out there among us and they're all equally ignorant and uninformed.

“She thinks having an Italian name and studying in Italy automatically makes her an amazing Italian cook for the ages.”

So her name should be what, Kowalkski? I guess Batali, Chiarello, DiSpirito and the rest of the Italian name brigade better run out and change their names to please this bleating idiot. And Giada studied in France, not Italy. She was only born in Italy. Moron.

“I hate her phony, teethy grins.” Jeez-us! Now they're baggin' the woman for smiling?! Yep. Here's a whole page devoted to criticizing her smile: http://community.southernliving.com/printthread.php?t=1929&pp=40

I'm seldom at a loss for words, but I can't come up with any way to describe the way I feel toward these sad, sorry, pathetic, hapless, miserable, wretched, execrable, deplorable, woeful, lamentable, piteous, distressing, misguided fools (told you I was at a loss for words) who have so little in their lives that they have to fill their time with hateful drivel expressed toward a person they have never met.

As I said, I've never met her either, but let me tell you what she did for me and why I'll always love and admire her.

I am an unabashedly proud mama's boy. Mom was the greater part of my world and I of hers.

I've always been a pretty good cook. Mom taught me when I was just a kid. Food was my mother's only vice. As she spent five years dying of an oral cancer that slowly robbed her of her ability to eat, we used to joke, “Well, you don't smoke, you don't drink, and you don't run around. Now that you can't eat, maybe it's time for you to try the other things.”

After a period of some dormancy, having let my cooking skills backslide to packaged and frozen foods, I started ramping up again to try to help her find things she could eat and enjoy. It was tough. Besides the actual mechanical difficulties the cancer was causing, the radiation treatments had damaged or destroyed her salivary glands and her tastebuds. I was so frustrated sometimes, I just wanted to scream. And I often did.

I was totally adrift after she died. I needed something to do, something to focus on, before I went completely off the deep end. What was one of the ways I'd always gotten a smile out of Mom? Food. For years, right up until a few days before she died, Saturday dinner at my house and Sunday dinner at my sister's was Mom's regular routine. She didn't cook as much as she used to, but she was always there to help out. And whenever I had a recipe question, she was my first source of information. Whenever I cooked something she really liked, I'd get a smile and a thumbs up.

So, in honor of my mother, I decided to make food my focus in getting on with my own life without her. We always enjoyed Italian food. Spaghetti suppers were among her favorites. She loved lasagne and seldom turned down pizza. So, Italian food, maybe?

I was channel surfing and came across something called “Everyday Italian” on the Food Network. Giada taught me tips and techniques in that first episode I watched that just amazed me with their simplicity and clarity. “I can do this,” I thought.

I made one of Giada's recipes for my wife that evening. She loved it. I told her about Giada and her simple, everyday approach to Italian cooking. My wife started watching, too, and soon we were both hooked.

Well, from there I began a serious study of Italian cuisine. And then of more general techniques. And then of a wider variety of food and ingredients. Members of my family on both sides had run restaurants in years past, and I had some brief kitchen experience when I was a teenager. Now I've reached the level where I have done a little catering and professional cooking and even as I now write about food for various sources and outlets, I continue to learn more everyday.

And every time I cook something new – or even an old favorite – I can't help but smile and think, “Mom would have loved this.”

It's all for Mom. And it's all because of Giada.

Thanks, G.