Why Is Italian Treated Like A Second-Class Language?

I'm a little miffed today. That's hardly an unusual state of affairs anymore. As I get older I find I spend a lot of time being miffed. Guess it's all part of being a curmudgeon.

I'm miffed today because of a recent incident of “Giada Bashing,” the practice of saying unfounded ugly things about Giada de Laurentiis. I've watched Giada for years, I've cooked her recipes, I've met her and spoken with her and I find her to be completely charming and utterly genuine. But the particular bash I'm referring to is one that really pushes my buttons because it is one that is not directed solely at Giada, but at Italians in general. Specifically at the Italian language.

The comment was one I've heard many times; “She talks normal until she says something about some Italian ingredient. Then she has to say it with some fancy Italian accent.”

Okay......I'm counting to dieci.....that's ten in Italian. What part of this don't you understand? English is not her native language. She's freakin' ITALIAN! She is not putting on fancy airs, she is speaking her native language correctly!

But I run into this kind of linguistic racism all the time. Never mind the way things are pronounced in their mother tongue. The only “normal” way to speak is the American way. I'm constantly harping on “marinara” and “bruschetta,” for instance. The right pronunciation, the proper pronunciation, the correct pronunciation of these words is “mah-ree-NAH-rah” and “broo-SKAY-tah” – or, at least, “broo-SKET-ah.” It is not, never has been, and never will be “mare-uh-NARE-uh” and “broo-SHET-uh.” But when I say this, I am frequently looked at like an idiot child and told in no uncertain terms, “Well, I ain't from Italy. I'm from [pick a state] and that's just the way we say it there.” Implying, of course, that that automatically makes the blatant mispronunciation right.

And yet we Americans arrogantly laugh at people who come here from other places and mispronounce common English words. People who have thick accents or who place the emphasis on the wrong syllable or who can't wrap their tongues around certain letter combinations are all stupid, right? They “talk funny.” But not us. We can pronounce words in their language any old way we want, because, after all, we talk “normal.”

And the thing that grinds my gears the hardest is the fact that this proclivity seems to be directed at the Italian language more than any other. For reasons I just can't fathom, Italian seems to be a second-class language. Americans liberally flatten vowels, truncate words, and generally butcher a beautiful, lyrical tongue with verisimilitude and without recrimination. They don't do it with Spanish and they most certainly don't do it with French, but Italian seems to be fair game.

Take, for instance, the taco. Everybody says “TAHK-oh,” right? I know somebody who pronounces it “TACK-oh” and he sounds funnier than hell to most people. Have you ever heard anybody order a “BURRIT-oh?” Or a “kwes-uh-DILL-uh?” Of course not. Everybody knows how to pronounce “burrito” and “quesadilla.”

Or take French. When it comes time to confit something, I don't know of a single chef who says “KAHN-fit” instead of “cone-FEE.” The demi glace is always a “dem-ee GLAHS” and never a “dem-eye GLAYCE.” And even if you can't speak through your nose and swallow final consonants like the French do, most Americans at least give “kwra-SAHNT” (croissant) a legitimate try.

Even Asian cultures get their due. Most folks ordering a bahn mi sandwich these days know better than to ask for a “BAN-my.”

And yet, you're somehow “abnormal” if you ask people to properly pronounce marinara and bruschetta. I just don't get it.

There are elements in our society that consider it a laughable affectation for one to correctly pronounce “foreign” words. You're just being “uppity.” I disagree. It's a matter of etiquette, intelligence, and respect. We expect – nay, we demand – that people from other countries learn to “talk normal” when they come here lest we laugh them off the streets. And yet, that same expectation, that same demand, is seldom made of us. Americans, it seems, are allowed to be culturally ignorant with impunity. “Well, I ain't from any of them other countries, so I ain't gotta talk like they do.” How sad!

I'm not saying you have to take a crash course in Italian, but you can go a great distance by remembering a few simple rules. For instance, in any Italian word where there's an “A” – any Italian word – the “A” will be pronounced as “ah.” All Romance or Neo-Latin languages – of which Italian is one – share the same sound for the letter “A.” There are no “long” or “short” sounds – no “ā” as in “sale” or “ă” as in “cat.” Everything is an “ah” sound. Conversely, the Italian “E” is frequently pronounced like a long “A.” Which leads to another point: in proper, non-dialectical Italian, you always pronounce the final vowel. There are no silent “e”s. Thus, words like mascarpone and provolone are not correctly rendered as “MASS-car-pone” and “PRO-vuh-lone,” but as “mahs-cahr-POHN-ay” and “proh-voh-LOHN-ay.” And if that sounds too affected, I'll just start using the Italian “u” sound when I talk about your “pickoop trook” and I'll sound as silly to you as you sound to an Italian.

Maybe it's because Italians are too laid back to gripe. Or maybe just too polite. Mispronounce something in French and the French will come after you with pitchforks. With Italians, non è niente! Come on, Italians! Demand some respect for your language!

Okay. I'm dragging the soapbox back under the porch now and I'm going to go in and take my medicine. I'm going to turn on the TV and find a station where everybody “talks normal.” And as long as you don't come and tell me we're having spaghetti mare-uh-nare-uh with broo-shetta for supper, I'll be fine.

"Go Olive Garden?" I Don't Think So

Olive Garden Takes Another Step Away From Being an Italian Restaurant

Anybody who reads my writing regularly – my, wasn't that alliterative? – knows how I feel about Italian restaurant chains, particularly Olive Garden. I eat there once in awhile – usually when I'm on the road and the choice is between there or Burger King. As I've frequently said, if you can't find a good Italian restaurant, there's always Olive Garden. But Darden Restaurant's latest marketing move might make me reassess that statement.

Before I go forward, let me back up. I ate at an Olive Garden recently; I had been given a gift card by well-meaning people who knew I “like Italian food.” <Sigh> So, I'm in town for a game and there's an Olive Garden and I've got this card........

Most dishes on Olive Garden's menu aren't too offensive; they aren't too Italian, but they aren't too offensive. It was late at night and I didn't want to go real heavy, so I ordered a simple spaghetti marinara. I specifically asked, as I always do in such places, for a real Italian portion. By that I mean something that's not served up in a feed trough carried to the table by two servers. Generally, a “child's” portion is what I wind up with. I can eat at least half of that.

As usual, the spaghetti was overcooked and bland. The sauce was okay for something that came out of a bag. The waiter came by and asked, “How is everything?” So, I told him. I asked him point-blank if the pasta came pre-packaged, refrigerated, and was just thrown into hot water and he said, “Yes, I think so.” Then he asked why I asked. I explained that the pasta was a little past al dente and that it had no flavor, as if there had been absolutely no salt added to the water. He commented, “People like you can always tell.” People like me. In other words, people who don't consider Chef Boyardee to be the ultimate in Italian cuisine. Then this Olive Garden waiter, standing in the middle of his own Olive Garden restaurant, asked me if I had ever been to a certain downtown Italian ristorante, the name of which I'm redacting to protect the guy's job. I was quite familiar with the place and I started explaining to him why the pasta there was so much better. I talked about artisanal suppliers and the superior texture of the pasta resulting from its being extruded through brass dies, and stuff like that. He thanked me for the information! All in all, other than encountering a refreshingly candid waiter, it was a typical Olive Garden experience. (I related this story to my son, a former waiter at another Italian chain place. “Geez, dad. At least we cooked our own pasta before we threw it in the refrigerator and reheated it.” See why I avoid chain places?)



(Image courtesy Business Insider)

Anyway, back to the topic at hand: Darden's new bone-headed marketing ploy. According to an Associated Press story, “Olive Garden is tossing out its famous 'When You’re Here, You’re Family' slogan to cater to a more modern lifestyle.” Oh, joy. Now it's going to be “Go Olive Garden.” I can't say for sure, but this sounds like it was written by the same dreadful hack who convinced the pork people to ditch “The Other White Meat” in favor of “Be Inspired.” Or maybe the guy who sold McDonald's on “I'm Lovin' It,” my personal winner for Most Despised Slogan.

The AP story continues: “Instead of evoking Old World charm, the new ads will feature brightly lit snapshots of modern life — little girls at ice skating practice, a woman striking a yoga pose, a group of friends taking a picture of themselves with a smart phone.” Doesn't that just scream “Italian?” Doesn't that just make you want to chow down on a platter of pasta? Doesn't that just make you sick?

According to one Jay Spenchian, Darden's executive vice president of marketing, the image of the traditional long family meal no longer reflects today’s hectic lives. And Olive Garden no longer reflects an Italian restaurant. It's become Applebee's with pasta.

In fact, in a blatant rip-off of Applebee's “2 for $20” gimmick, Olive Garden plans to serve up a “Dinner Today, Dinner Tomorrow” offering whereby you can grab a meal for now and they'll pack one up for you to take home. Kind of like leftovers, only on a grander scale.

They're trying to steer gullible rubes......er......I mean, potential customers into seeing Olive Garden not as a place where you have to come in and sit down with the whole family for a big meal, but more as a place where you can just dash in and grab a quick something for yourself. Ugh!

Can you think of anything more antithetical to the traditional Italian way of life? Italian meals are supposed to be leisurely family affairs where everybody sits down at the table and enjoys good food, good wine, and good conversation. “When You're Here, You're Family” is what it's all about! Any greasy spoon diner, dive, or truck stop can shovel out plates full of food for the hurried traveler on the go. This is what Darden wants? To be a high-priced truck stop with an Italian-sounding name? Go for it, buddies.

On the bright side, Olive Garden plans to emphasize what it calls “Lighter Italian Fare;” dishes that have 575 calories or less. Oh, you mean something closer to real Italian food? Something that doesn't come heaped up on a platter with “endless” side items? That's a step in the right direction.

But the idea of abandoning all semblance of even faux-Italian culture in favor of the “modern” way of life is revolting. If I want Italian fast-food, I'll go to Fazoli's.

Come to think of it, Fazoli's recent “upgrade” includes an attempt to look more Italian. They've done away with the schlocky décor and covered their walls with pictures of families enjoying Italian food. They, too, have a line of “light” entrees – except theirs have 400 calories or less. The food quality is about the same as Olive Garden's and it's cheaper.

Va bene! The decision is made. If I'm no longer “Like Family” at Olive Garden, I simply won't “Go.” From now on, if you can't find a good Italian restaurant, there's always Fazoli's.

My Newest Discoveries: Bacon from Benton's Smoky Mountain Hams and Cheese from Sweetwater Valley Farm

Two Out-of-the-Way Places Worth Going Out of Your Way For


Let's say you're driving down I-75 between Knoxville and Chattanooga and you are suddenly overtaken by a desire to have some of the best bacon on the planet. Boy, are you in luck! Just a few miles off Exit 60 you'll find Benton's Smoky Mountain Hams – and you will be ever so glad you did.

When you get off the Interstate, you'll travel a little ways through Sweetwater, Tennessee on Highway 68 and on into Madisonville, where you'll switch over to Highway 411. Right on the outskirts of town, you'll come to number 2603 – a long, rather non-descript-looking concrete block building – and you'll think, “This can't be it.” But trust me, you've arrived at hog heaven.

Displayed on the exterior of Benton's Smoky Mountain Country Hams, just to the right of a hand-lettered sign that announces the hours of operation, are the words, “We Cure 'Em.” And that's just what they do, using an old-fashioned method of slow dry-curing that employs salt, brown sugar, black and red pepper, and hickory smoke. Lots of hickory smoke. You can smell it as soon as you get out of your car. (You can buy unsmoked products, too. But why would you?)

Allan Benton
(Photo courtesy The Bacon Hall of Fame)

Entering the building on my first visit (and there have been several since), I saw the proprietor himself, Allan Benton, surrounded by cameras and a team of reporters from Asheville. You see, this little ol' country place, unseemly as it seems, has been discovered by the food elite. You'll find Benton's products on the menu in places like New York's famous Momofuku and Charleston's trendy McCrady's. At PDT (Please Don't Tell) in New York's East Village, CBS-New York has labeled the “Benton's Old Fashioned,” a drink made with bourbon, maple syrup, angostura bitters, orange peel, and, of course Benton's bacon, one of the city's best cocktails.



Benton's Bacon
(Photo courtesy The Bacon Hall of Fame)

When I got my first pound of Benton's bacon home, I was absolutely in love. It's easy to see why Michelin-starred and James Beard Award-winning chefs are ga-ga about this stuff. The bacon is thick sliced in traditional country fashion, meaning not all the slices are exactly uniform. Not only are the slices thicker than “store-bought,” they're a good bit longer, too, meaning you get more bacony goodness per slice. Unlike the water-injected product in the grocery store, Benton's dry-curing process ensures minimal shrinkage. And the rich, unctuous, smoky flavor is simply indescribable. Now, I haven't purchased grocery store bacon in years. I get mine from a local butcher. But this stuff has made a convert of me. I've never tasted the like. Allan Benton has acquired still another dedicated customer. I've already returned to this bacon-lover's mecca and purchased a few pounds as gifts for my kids and for a neighbor. (Yes, I give bacon as a gift. So what?)

Blame it all on his roots. Allan Benton learned everything he knows about curing pork from his grandparents, residents of rural Scott County, Virginia – a place where they know a thing or two about bacon and ham. After a stint as a school teacher, Benton took up the meat business in a rented block smokehouse where a local dairy farmer had previously cured and sold country hams. Employing his grandparents' recipe and techniques, Benton's business took off like a greased pig and he soon bought the whole shootin' match.

Hearkening back to the way his grandpa harvested hogs that had been allowed to forage in the forests, feasting on acorns, roots, leaves, and tender grasses, Benton uses only pasture-raised heritage breed pigs for his porcine delicacies. And the superior quality of the meat shines through in every sumptuous bite.

Although country hams and hickory-smoked bacon are the mainstays of the business, there are a few other porky delights in store, like prosciutto, for instance. Yep. Succulent Italian-style ham. What more could you want?

If the middle of East Tennessee is a little bit out of your way, Benton's will ship anywhere in the United States from their website at http://bentonscountryhams2.com. Be forewarned, though; this place is extremely popular and crazy busy. In the shop, the line stays backed up to the door. On the web, the shipping time can be up to a month or more.

Benton's Smoky Mountain Country Hams is at 2603 Highway 411 North, Madisonville, Tennessee 37354. They're open 8:30 to 5:00 Monday through Saturday. Call (423) 442-5003, e-mail Allan.Benton@gmail.com or check out the website mentioned in the previous paragraph.

What goes better with bacon than cheese? Follow me. Back to I-75 and up (or down) the road to Exit 68. We're going to Philadelphia. No, not that Philadelphia. All they've got there is Independence Hall. Philadelphia, Tennessee has Sweetwater Valley Farm.

Now, you don't have to go nearly as far off the beaten path to get to Sweetwater Valley Farm. Turn off the exit, go 2 miles, make a left and you're there.

(Image courtesy Sweetwater Valley Farm)

The International Dairy Foods Association recently named SVF its “Innovative Dairy Farm of the Year” and it's easy to see why. I grew up in “America's Dairyland,” and this place is impressive by anybody's standards.

It's neat and clean and pretty, but, make no mistake, this is a real working farm. A thousand cows, twenty million pounds of milk annually, three million pounds of which become some of the most delicious cheese I've ever had.

Sweetwater Valley Farm is one of the few remaining farms in the country still producing high quality farmstead cheese. Owner John Harrison brilliantly combines modern dairying with age-old artisanal methods and turns out a great variety of absolutely beautiful, all-natural cheddar cheeses. And I do mean variety! More than twenty of them.

The farm started turning milk into cheese about a decade ago. It was good, but they soon discovered that people's tastes were always changing and more flavors were always in demand. So Harrison set about meeting that demand and today he turns out a stunning product line that ranges from Adobo to Yellow Cheddar, offering mild cheeses, sharp cheeses, and everything in between. All fresh, all natural, and all delicious.

Yellow Cheddar
(Image courtesy Sweetwater Valley Farm)

I sampled white cheddar, yellow cheddar, hickory-smoked gouda, hickory-smoked yellow and white, and even Italian pesto. My wife had her first ever taste of cheese curds and we both thoroughly enjoyed the award-winning Governor's Aged Cheddar. All were supremely creamy, smooth, tangy, sweet, rich, full-flavored.......I'm running out of adjectives. They were just plain good, darn it! That's why several blocks came home with us. There's a reason we travel with a cooler.

But the SVF experience doesn't stop in the cheese store/gift shop. There's “The Udder Story,” too, an exhibit that explores the dairy industry's past, present and future and presents answers to questions you probably didn't know you had. And there's also a walking tour that allows visitors to see many of the details of a modern, productive dairy operation.

As with Benton's, if you find that SVF is a bit of a commute, they have a website and they ship. And, to our great surprise, they're cheap. I've paid a lot more for a lot less in specialty shops and in the cheese sections of high-end grocers all over the country. But don't let that get around. We'll keep it our secret.



(Image courtesy
Sweetwater Valley Farm)

Cheese. Cows. Wow! So says the sunny yellow brochure produced by Sweetwater Valley Farm. And I completely agree.

Sweetwater Valley Farm is located at 17988 West Lee Highway, Philadelphia, Tennessee 37846. They're open Monday through Friday 8:30 to 6 and on Saturdays from 9 to 5. They also open from 1to 5 on Sundays during the summer and over the Thanksgiving-Christmas holidays. Call (877) 862-4332, email info@sweetwatervalley.com, or check out www.sweetwatervalley.com.

There are scores of places like Benton's and Sweetwater Valley Farm all across the length and breadth of America. Good quality food is still out there. All you have to do is look for it. Even if you don't have a Benton's or a Sweetwater Valley Farm nearby, chances are there's a local farmers market, butcher shop, fishmonger, produce market, or bakery near you. Sure, it's not as handy as one-stop shopping at the supercenter, but it can be so much better. And so much better for you. It's the way we used to shop before convenience became more important than quality. Whether you hop in your car or fire up your computer, visit Benton's Smoky Mountain Hams and Sweetwater Valley Farm and add some real food to your shopping list today.

October (2012) Fun Food Holidays

In my neck of the words, the leaves are turning, the first hints of frost are in the air, and everything is all Fall-ish. It's the time of year to start thinking about hot chocolate and hot cider and pumpkin pie – and pickled peppers?

Yep. October is National Pickled Peppers Month, so if you run into Peter Piper, get him to pick you a peck. October also celebrates a great number of my favorite foods. The thirty-one day period that was the eighth month until Julius Caesar downgraded it to tenth is also National Pasta Month, National Pizza Festival Month, National Popcorn Poppin' Month, National Apple Month, National Caramel Month, National Pretzel Month, National Cookie Month, National Dessert Month, National Seafood Month, National Chili Month, and, not to be forgotten, National Vegetarian Awareness Month.

It's also National Pork Month and Eat Country Ham Month. And I have discovered the best place in the world to help you celebrate those events. It's a little out-of-the-way stop in Madisonville, Tennessee called “Benton's Smoky Mountain Country Hams” and I promise you will never put anything better in your mouth. You can get there from here: http://bentonscountryhams2.com/

Week-wise, the month starts out by celebrating chili for the first week and beer for the second week. Pickled peppers are on point the third week of October.

The second Thursday and the second Friday – that would be the 11th and 12th this year – are National Dessert Day and World Egg Day, respectively.

As for the other days of the month, it's a good thing there are thirty-one of them or we might run out.

Right out of the box, we are encouraged to encourage our vegetarian friends on the 1st, World Vegetarian Day. Pudding season begins on October 1, and it's also Homemade Cookies Day, a day I heartily encourage.

Fried scallops are noted on the 2^nd and the 3^rd is reserved for caramel custard.

National Taco Day hits on the 4^th along with National Vodka Day. Hmmm....tacos and vodka.

Apple Betty –sometimes known as Apple Brown Betty – gets a day on the 5th. Noodle around with noodles on the 6th. Enjoy frappe on the 7th and have a fluffernutter on National Fluffernutter Day, October 8. (What's a “fluffernutter,” you ask. Go look it up. I had to.) If you like pierogi, they share the day with the fluffernutters.

How'd you like to observe Moldy Cheese Day on the 9th? Yes, I'm serious. No, I don't know why. Fortunately, the 9th also celebrates a wonderful sandwich, the submarine sandwich – or sub or hoagie or gyro or hero or grinder – take your pick. Just leave the moldy cheese off mine.

How about some dessert? National Angel Food Cake Day is October 10.

We feted cheese pizza last month. Sausage pizza gets its day in October and its day is the 11th.

Gumbo fans, rejoice. Your day is the 12th and Yorkshire pudding eaters get bragging rights on the 13th.

A month that celebrates moldy cheese is an obvious choice for National Chocolate-Covered Insects Day, so go dip a grasshopper in Hershey's syrup and chow down on the 14th.

If you're still hungry on the 15th, you're in for a fowl day; both chicken cacciatore and roast pheasant are in vogue on that day.

On a slightly more serious note, October 16 is World Food Day, a day set aside to increase awareness of world hunger and year-around efforts to alleviate it. Learn more at www.worldfooddayusa.org.

Do you know how many varieties of pasta there are? I don't either, but I'll do my best to discover as many as possible on National Pasta Day, October 17. Unfortunately, that means I won't have time to take part in Four Prunes Day, so somebody else can have my portion. (Why four prunes instead of six or eight or a dozen? I don't know – but I can speculate.)

You can't, however, have my chocolate cupcakes. I'll be sufficiently recovered by the 18th to take care of my own – and any of yours that you might have left over – on National Chocolate Cupcake Day.

Have a little seafood bisque on the 19th and some brandied fruit on the 20th.

The 21st is a double-dip day; pumpkin cheesecake and caramel apples are both foods of the day.

National Nut Day happens on the 22. I would imagine this relates to food rather than to mental health, but I'm prepared either way.

The luscious confection with a slight identity crisis, Boston Cream Pie, has its day on the 23. See, it's really not a pie at all, but a pudding and cake combo created at Boston's Parker House Hotel. (Yes, the same place that gave the world Parker House rolls.) I don't care if you call it a fluffernutter as long as you save me some.

If you've ever been told you're full of bologna, have I got a day for you! It's October 24, National Bologna Day. That day is also Good and Plenty Day. I'm a big fan of the candy-coated little chewy licorice treats, but I'd be leery of eating them with bologna.

October 25 is National Greasy Foods Day. You mean they have a day for that?

How about pumpkins, pretzels and mince-meat pie? All have their day on the 26th.

Potatoes and beer go together like –well, potatoes and beer, but you can consume both on their shared day, October 27. Hmmm....French fries are potatoes, right?

Women of the world, take note: October 28 is National Chocolate Day. Again, there's a day for that?

National Oatmeal day warms up October 29.

Just in time for Halloween, it's National Candy Corn Day on the 30th. That's also National Buy a Doughnut Day. As opposed to what, National Steal a Doughnut Day?

And of course it wouldn't feel like fall without candy apples, so enjoy one (or two) on National Candy Apple Day, October 31.

And you don't really need to be reminded what else happens on October 31, do you? I always felt ripped off when I got popcorn balls or homemade cookies on Halloween, didn't you?

Anyway, that should hold everybody until the big November feasts. Enjoy the month!

Mangiare, Bere, e Divertirsi!

Red-Checkered Tablecloths and "Authentic" Italian Restaurants

A copy of the Clayton News Daily, a publication out of Jonesboro, Georgia, came my way the other day. It featured an article written by a reporter who usually covers the local government beat. He should stick to his beat.

The headline “The Bias Against America's Italian Restaurants” caught my attention and I prepared myself for an interesting, in depth piece on the topic. Not so much. What I got was a cazzata restaurant review, which I'd like to dissect here for the benefit of anybody who may not know better.

The writer begins: “It will be hard for any Italian restaurant in America to top what has to be my favorite restaurant in Italy. There is this little out-of-the-way pizzeria near the Stazione Termini, in Rome, called Ricci, Est! Est!! Est!!! It is the best truly Italian restaurant ever, and it puts all of the American imitators — and yes, I am talking about the national chains as well — to shame.”

Okay. In the first place, comparing the national American chains to real Italian restaurants is like comparing a Fiat to a Lamborghini – they both have Italian names on the outside, but there's no resemblance under the hood. And in the second place, the restaurant in question is a tourist trap. C'mon! The guy all but says it in his next paragraph: “Ricci has a great intimate atmosphere. It’s small and cozy, with brick walls and Italian sculptures on the inside. It’s like the kind of Italian restaurant you see in a Godfather movie, but never see in real life in America.”

Yes, pal, it's exactly like the kind of Italian restaurant you see in a Godfather movie! Where you don't see them in “real life” is in Italy. They are called ristoranti turista – tourist restaurants – and they cater to rubes – mostly Americans – who have stereotypical notions of what an “Italian restaurant” should be.

The writer then waxed rhapsodic about the food: “I had a marguerite pizza with pepperoni, mushrooms, peppers, cheese ground beef and a heavy does [sic] of wine in the sauce.” If this doesn't scream “T-U-R-I-S-T-A!” at you in huge capital letters, I don't know what does (spelled correctly).

Buddy, to begin with, you didn't have a “marguerite” pizza. The closest approximation would be a “pizza Margherita,” and based on your description, that sure as hell isn't what you got. A pizza Margherita is very simple: thin crust topped with tomatoes, mozzarella di bufala and basil. That's it.

Secondly, if you had “pepperoni” on your pizza, you were most definitely in a tourist trap catering to Americans. There is no “pepperoni” in Italy. “Peperoni,” referring to a type of bell pepper, yes; “pepperoni,” referring to a type of sausage, no. You might have had slices of salame piccante, but if they sold it to you as “pepperoni,” they sold you tourist food. Are you sure you weren't in Rome, Georgia? Because a “real” Italian pizza place would never load up a pizza with so many toppings. That's an American affectation. Italians seldom put more than two or three toppings on pizza.

The thing that had me crying, “Mamma mia!” – or words to that effect – was the writer's description of an ideal Italian restaurant: “I don’t want to walk in and see the same tired chic look that I can see in countless restaurants in America, regardless of what style of food is served. I want character in the design. I want exposed brick, and antique-looking Italian sculptures. I want the red-and-white checkered table cloth. I want to expect some guy with an accordion to come wandering through the room at any moment, while playing a tarantella. That is what it means to be in a great Italian restaurant.”

Oh, my God!!!! THAT is what it means to be in an Italian-American tourist trap! That is the stereotype that really pisses real Italians off. Let me guess; did the guy playing the accordion have a black mustache that curled up on the ends? Was he fat and jovial and named “Tony?” If there was a mutt and a cocker spaniel sucking spaghetti out back, I'd say it sounds like a scene out of “Lady and the Tramp.”

The writer then goes on to admit that he has never dined at any of the 30 eateries that made Travel & Leisure's” list of the best Italian restaurants in the U.S. These include unauthentic little dives like Mario Batali's “Del Posto” in New York, Tony Mantuano's “Spiaggia” in Chicago, and Mark Vetri's eponymous place in Philadelphia. These are obviously sub-par imitators because there's not a checkered tablecloth or an accordion player anywhere in sight.

He mentioned a local place called “Vincent’s Italian Restaurant,” located on Ernest Barrett Pkwy, in Marietta. Of “Vincent's” he says, “It’s actually pretty close to an authentic Italian restaurant — the closest I’ve ever seen on this side of the Atlantic actually.” What he doesn't say is that the place is “actually” – to use an overused word – called “Vincent's New York Style Italian Restaurant.” And they serve typical Italian-American fare, replete with misspelled Italian words on the menu.

But there is hope. The gentleman has a glimmer of the concept of Italian food when he says, “Italian food isn’t meant to be gourmet, however. It’s soul food for Italian people, and other people just happen to like it.”

Well, said, signore, well said! Now you owe it to yourself to go out and find some of that Italian soul food in places that don't have stereotypical “Italian” trappings, but do specialize in real Italian cuisine. And they don't have to be places like “Babbo” and “Del Posto.” I discovered a little place called “Ristorante Sarnellis” off the beaten path in Orange Park, Florida and I fell fell in love with a place called “Zarrelli's,” owned and operated by a Neapolitan immigrant who made his way to Charlotte, North Carolina. Unfortunately, after decades in business, both are now closed. But there are others out there. You have only to look for them.

Just don't look in places where accordion players serve overloaded pizzas on red-checkered tablecloths.

A Tour of Three North Carolina Wineries

(Image courtesy of Bottlenotes)

Everybody talks about California wines. Napa Valley, Sonoma Valley, Russian River Valley. But in our rush to praise West Coast wines, let's not forget the other coast and its superb winemaking facilities.

Most people, even dedicated oenophiles, don't know that winemaking was well established on the East Coast decades before the California wine industry was even a thought. According to the North Carolina Department of Commerce, when Sir Walter Raleigh's expedition explored the coasts of North Carolina and Virginia in 1584, they found an abundance of grapes. One explorer wrote, "The coast of North Carolina was so full of grapes that the very beating and surge of the sea overflowed them.” A huge 400-year-old Scuppernong vine on Roanoke Island, the storied “Mother Vine,” was the first cultivated grapevine in the United States.

From it, and others like it, came wines so fine as to induce Thomas Jefferson to write of North Carolina's burgeoning wine industry, its "wine would be distinguished on the best tables in Europe, for its fine aroma, and chrystalline transparence."

North Carolina's Medoc Vineyard, established in 1835, was the state's first commercial winery and led the nation in wine production. By the time the sixth federal census was conducted in 1840, North Carolina was the leading wine producing state in the U.S.

The discovery in the late 19^th century that vinifera, or European grapes, could be grafted onto native stock gave a huge boost to the local wine industry.

By the turn of the 20^th century, North Carolina was becoming widely recognized for its quality wines. North Carolina wines won prizes in Paris in 1900. A bottle of North Carolina's “Virginia Dare” wine won the grand prize at the Louisiana Purchase Exhibition in 1904. For a time, “Virginia Dare” label wines were the best-selling wines in the United States.

Prohibition briefly derailed the American wine industry, but today North Carolina is well on its way to re-establishing itself as a force in the wine world. Numerous incentives to grape growing, including a program to convert land formerly used for tobacco production to grape production, have been extremely successful. North Carolina, currently 7^th in the United States in wine production, is home to three designated American Viticultural Areas and currently boasts more than a hundred wineries.

So it was on a recent late-Spring day that my wife and I, accompanied by one of our delightful wine expert friends, embarked on a tour of three of those wineries.

Our first stop was Shelton Vineyards, a 383-acre estate located in the Yadkin Valley near Dobson, NC. Established in 1999 by brothers Charlie and Ed Shelton, it is the largest family-owned winery in North Carolina. The winery itself is housed in a contemporary 33,000 square foot building, There are ten varietals planted and they are handpicked one variety at a time every season. The winery is a gravity flow facility, meaning the multiple levels of the building utilize gravity to aid in the gentle flow of grapes and wine through the processing steps.

The walking tour of the winery begins and ends in the nicely appointed tasting room/gift shop. The tour takes about a half hour. Our guide on this occasion was a very personable and knowledgeable woman who explained each step of the process clearly, adding interesting little facts and details as the tour progressed. We learned about the rose bushes planted at the end of the wine rows. These delicate flowers serve as “canaries” for the grapes. If something happens in the fields, the roses will be affected first, thus enabling the vintner to assess a situation before it damages the grapes. And we learned about the windmills that serve as frost protectors, keeping the air currents moving and inhibiting frost development.

On a previous visit, our tour was conducted by a young lady who gave us a much abbreviated version of the experience afforded by our guide on this occasion, a fact that I pointed out. Our current guide's polite response was that every tour guide has an individual style based on their experience. As one with some personal experience as a tour guide, I recommend a good script and the ability to deliver it without sounding scripted, but that's just me. At any rate, the tour was interesting.

Back in the tasting room, a wine tasting flight of five varieties will cost you $5 – and you get to keep your glass. If you're interested in a tasting of the reserve wines, it's $20. Wine is also available by the glass. Prices vary from $6 to $10 per glass, depending upon the variety.

We opted for the dry reds that included a Dry Rosé made from Cabernet Franc grapes; a Harvest Red blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc, and Malbec; the Estate Cabernet Sauvignon; the Estate Merlot; and the house label Madison Lee Red, a blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Cabernet Franc, Petite Verdot, Syrah, and Tannat. The last selection turned out to be the preferred choice and the one that went home with us for a reasonable $10.99 per bottle.

There is a fine-dining restaurant – the Harvest Grill – attached to the winery and a newly-opened brick-oven pizzeria and ristorante – Bello Vino – located near the entrance. We dined at Bello Vino, where the food was good and the service was not. But it was only their second day open, so the green was still apparent on the young waitstaff. I'll give it another try later.

Beyond food and wine, Shelton offers a busy schedule of special events that includes a summer concert series, a fall harvest festival, and a holiday open house.

Open daily (except for New Year's Day, Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas), Shelton Vineyards is located in Dobson, NC at exit 93 off I-77. It's just a few miles north of Winston-Salem and a short distance south of Mt. Airy and the Virginia state line. They are at 286 Cabernet Lane, Dobson, NC 27017. (336) 366-4724 is the phone number and they are on the Web at www.sheltonvineyards.com.

Our next stop was a short distance further south on I-77 at Raffaldini Vineyards and Winery. Now, whereas Shelton was a bit off the beaten path, there isn't even much of a path leading to Raffaldini. Google Maps driving directions, a good GPS system, and a decent sense of direction helped us negotiate the turns off the Interstate onto a couple of two-lane highways and a dirt trail replete with single-lane bridges. We were thinking of turning back and finding a sherpa – or at least a local Boy Scout – when we finally stumbled upon our destination. It was definitely worth the journey.

The approach to the facility leads through a beautiful garden – very Italian. You exit the garden and are stunned by the edifice before you: Lordy, Lordy! Somebody done went and stuck a big ol' Eye-talian villa right out thar in the middle of North Carolina! Ten points for “wow factor.” Raffaldini's website features an appropriate quote from Anthony Baratta, National 1^st Vice-President, the Order of Sons of Italy in America; “Honey, I've just died and gone to Tuscany.” And it gets better.

La famiglia Raffaldini is the real deal, tracing their roots back to 14^th century Mantua. To say they've been making wine for a long time would be an understatement. They've only been making it at their 43-acre vineyard in the Swan Creek AVA since 2001, but their ancient winemaking heritage is apparent in every aspect of their operation. The aforementioned practice of grafting European grapes onto American root stock is in full swing here. Raffaldini currently produces five single varietal wines and several proprietary blends including: Vermentino, Sangiovese, Sangiovese Riserva, Montepulciano, and Pinot Grigio. The vineyard also produces Sagrantino, Nero D'Avola, Moscato, and Malbec grapes. Some of these varietals are not only unique to the East Coast, but are also the first plantings in the United States.

The magnificent Tuscan villa houses a delightful tasting room which opens onto a spacious terrazzo commanding breathtaking views of the vineyard and surrounding countryside. The view alone is worth the trip. But we were there for Italian wine, and we were not disappointed.

Again, a wine tasting was $5 and included seven wines; four reds, two whites, and a dessert wine. The medium-bodied, “Chianti” style 2009 Sangiovese was very good, but we were most impressed with the mellow, rich “Il Mezzogiorno.” The unique red blend possesses a fruity bouquet reminiscent of berries and currants. It has a soft, subtle beginning that evolves into a fruity, oaky flavor and progresses to a long, spicy finish. At $14 a bottle, several went out the door with us.

Another favorite was the dolce or dessert selection. Called La Dolce Vita, it is a semi-sweet lightly sparkling wine in the style of a Moscato d'Asti. The $15 price tag ensured that a few bottles of that variety were leaving with us, too.

There is no on-site eatery at Raffaldini, but there is an adequate selection of Italian foodstuffs available in the tasting room. We thoroughly enjoyed some flatbread and a fig spread as we sat on the terrazzo and drank in not only our delicious wine but the astounding scenery as well. Nobody wanted to leave.

Like Shelton, Raffaldini has more to offer than tastings and tours. The beautiful grounds at Raffaldini lend themselves to lots of events. The Knot magazine, a publication serving the wedding planning industry, has named Raffaldini as one of its Top Ten Wedding Venues in NC. The winery also schedules a number of special seasonal events including their popular “Festa Italiana” in the fall.

Raffaldini Vineyards is open daily, except Tuesday. They are closed for New Year's Day, Thanksgiving Day, and Christmas Day. Hours of operation vary. As noted, tastings are $5 and include a commemorative glass. Walking tours of the vineyard are conducted Wednesdays through Sundays. (Naturally, we were there on a Monday. Next time, for sure.) Raffaldini is located near Ronda, North Carolina, not far from Winston-Salem. They are at 450 Groce Rd, Ronda, NC 28670. Exit I-77 at 73B, the exit for US 421. It gets tricky from there. Go online for complete directions. Call (336) 835-9463 or visit them on the Web at www.raffaldini.com.

Continuing south, our final stop was at a place we'd been before and one I've previously reviewed. (http://ronjamesitaliankitchen.blogspot.com/2011/04/visit-to-north-carolinas-childress.html) Childress Vineyards is still located near Lexington, NC off US 52 at exit 89. And it's still huge. The winery itself measures 35,000 square feet, including the tasting room/gift shop and the upscale dining and banquet facilities. Of course, the Tuscan villa architecture isn't quite as impressive anymore on the heels of a visit to Raffaldini, but it's still pretty far up the list. After all, Wine Enthusiast Magazine includes the tasting room at Childress among its Top 25 in America.

On my last visit I commented on the friendly, knowledgeable, efficient staff. That goes double for this occasion. We got to Childress quite late in the day; so late, in fact that we missed the last scheduled tour and were pretty close to the cutoff time for tastings. No matter. When I explained that we had come quite some distance to see the winery and that we had just gotten delayed by traffic (which was true), the staff arranged a private tour for us after we had finished our tasting. And it wasn't an “okay, I'm off the clock so let's get this over with” kind of tour. It was very detailed and informative and included all the points and places covered on their regular scheduled tours, including a stop in their beautiful “barrel room,” a feature no other winery I've toured could equal. The extra service and accommodation on the part of the staff was very much appreciated.

While the tour is free, the tasting at Childress is a little more expensive than some others. For a $10 “classic” ticket, we sampled five wines; including a classic white, a classic blush, and a classic red. The $12 “barrel select” tasting also includes five more expensive varietals, and the $15 “signature tasting” offers a selection of five premium wines. Each tasting, of course, includes a crystal souvenir glass which has been upsized and upgraded since my previous visit.

Childress produces good stuff. Their wines have garnered more than 650 medals in the relatively short time the winery has been around, including over 60 golds and double golds and four Best of Show honors. They currently have 77 acres under vine with twelve varietals planted.

I guess it depends upon what you're looking for in a wine, but after sampling the exquisite Italian varietals at Raffaldini, the more common wines at Childress failed to impress our oenophile friend. In fact, he was a little put off by what he perceived as a “tobacco” flavor lingering on his palate after sampling some of the wines. But this is from a guy who is deeply into wine and really knows his stuff. He is very.......shall we say “discerning”........about his wines.

Childress cultivates the local muscadine or vitis rotundifolia. My wife has had some unpleasant experiences with other muscadine wine, but she always enjoys the muscadine wines produced by Childress.

As with other area wineries, there's more to Childress than just wine. They have a busy schedule of activities that includes live music events and much more.

Childress Vineyards is located at 1000 Childress Vineyards Road, Lexington, NC 27295. Call (336) 236-9463 or log on to http://www.childressvineyards.com.

Like the grapes themselves, North Carolina wineries seem to grow in bunches. I lost count of the number of roadside signs we saw advertising other wineries as we traveled among the three we visited that day. And we won't even mention crossing the state line into Virginia, a state which boasts even more vigorous viticulture than North Carolina. All I can do is paraphrase Horace Greeley's advice to young men seeking their fortunes: “Go east, young wine lover, go east and experience the bountiful wine country.”

Mangiare, bere, e divertirsi!

On Storing Eggs

I was visiting friends. Having offered to cook breakfast for my hosts, I headed to the refrigerator for some eggs. I opened the door and there it was.......<insert weird, shrieking “Psycho” SFX here> the dreaded egg basket! It wasn't really a basket at all. It was just a plastic bin that was supposed to be holding ice cubes in the freezer. But there it was......sitting on a shelf in the refrigerator......holding hostage at least a dozen innocent little eggs. Having tried on previous occasions to intervene on behalf of the hapless ovoid prisoners, I cried, “Why? Why is this abomination still here?” Came the chilling reply, “Habit.”

Eggs are often called “nature's perfect food.” Part of that perfection lies in their hardy little self-contained storage units. The shells are primarily made of calcium carbonate. Resting within is the nutrient rich yolk, surrounded by albumen or “whites” containing still more vitamins and minerals. These components are encompassed by inner and outer membranes and anchors, called “chalazae,” that all combine to protect the contents and keep them centered in place. (By the way, that's pronounced “kuh-LAY-zee” in case you were wondering. Or you can just call them the thick, stringy things you see when you crack open an egg.)

Egg shells may look solid, but they're not. They contain thousands and thousands of little openings, like the pores on your skin. The interior shell membrane keeps nasty stuff like bacteria out, but egg shells are still gas permeable. As a result, as an egg cools after it is laid, an air cell develops in the larger, blunt end of the egg. Over time, the air cell increases in size. In a fertilized egg, this is the place where the emerging chick would obtain its first breath. In an egg destined to be scrambled, fried, or poached, this is the first line of defense for overall freshness.

You can tell a really fresh egg by the set of the yolk. With only a small air cell – about 1/8-inch deep – inside the shell of a very fresh egg, the yolk presents as small and tight when the egg is opened. It sits high above the surrounding white and remains centered within it. As the egg ages, a degree of evaporation occurs and the air space increases. This causes the albumen to thin slightly and results in a flatter, more spread out yolk when the egg is cracked open.

Eggs will eventually spoil and if you ever crack into a spoiled egg, you'll know it pretty quickly. But it takes a long time for an egg to degrade to the point of spoilage. Properly stored, they'll last for weeks, sometimes months, although the quality will diminish as the egg ages.

The first point of proper storage is refrigeration. Yeah, I know. Grandma kept her eggs in a basket on the counter and nobody ever died from eating them. And as I said in the previous paragraph, it takes an egg a long time to spoil. That said, it should be noted that a fresh-laid egg will age about one week for every day it is left unrefrigerated. Do the math. Then put your eggs in the refrigerator.

Ideally, eggs should be stored at temperatures between 50° and 55° with a relative humidity of between 70% and 75%. At an average of 40°, home refrigerators are a good bit cooler – or at least they should be. So avoid storing eggs in the bottom of your refrigerator, as this is usually the coldest spot.

Refrigerator manufacturers are so clever. They put neat little egg holders right in the refrigerator door. How wonderfully convenient! Just don't put your eggs in them. Two reasons: instability and uneven temperature.

You open the door, you close the door. You open the door, you close the door. Sometimes you jerk the door open and sometimes you slam it closed. And every time you open and close and open and close the door, you jiggle the eggs around. Eggs don't really like jiggling. Sometimes they even get a little cracked up about it. Sometimes those little anchors – the chalazae – loosen up and the contents of the egg starts to float around inside the shell. And every time you open and close and open and close the refrigerator door, the eggs, parked in their convenient little door tray, get warmed and cooled and warmed and cooled. They don't much like that either. Will door storage affect the safety of the eggs? No. Not unless they develop cracks that allow bacteria to enter. But door storage, with all its vibrations and thermal fluctuations, can affect shelf life and quality.

The next worst way to store eggs is piled up in a basket, bowl, ice bin, or whatever else you have on hand. Again, two reasons. Again, cracking. You know what will crack an egg almost faster than anything else? Another egg. Think I'm kidding? Roll two of 'em together so they barely make contact. You'll see. And when you store them all jumbled on top of one another in a basket, they make a lot of contact. And this is a food safety issue. “But it's just a little crack!” Little cracks let in lots of bacteria.

The other factor is orientation. An egg should be stored “pointy” side down. This keeps the air cell up in the blunt, rounded end of the egg where it naturally belongs. And this helps keep the innards of the egg centered in the places where they naturally belong. Are you going to get sick and die from eating an egg that's been lying on its side? No. But here again, it's a matter of preserving the quality of the egg.

In both door storage and open container methods, eggs are exposed to whatever else is keeping them company in the refrigerator. You know how when you open the refrigerator door, that leftover onion and garlic and pepper casserole kind of reminds you it's still there? Well, it's been making itself known to the eggs in the open container right next to it ever since you put it in there. And remember what I said about egg shells being porous and gas permeable? Hey! If you want to pre-flavor your eggs with onion and garlic and peppers, go for it. Might be good in an omelet, but not so much in a cake.

Once it leaves the chicken behind – or the chicken's behind, if you prefer – the best place for an egg is an egg carton. The egg carton as we know it today was invented back in 1911 by a Canadian newspaperman named Joseph L. Coyle. See, in those days eggs were collected, delivered, and stored in open baskets – kind of like the one in my host's refrigerator. But there was a big fight going on between a local egg farmer and his customer at a local hotel. Each side blamed the other for the broken eggs caused by the prevailing primitive and inefficient method of storage and transportation. So Mr. Coyle, who was also something of an inventor, came up with a paper alternative that kept the individual eggs cushioned and separated. The concept was an immediate success, and other than some changes in basic materials, the idea hasn't been improved upon in over a hundred years.

Although I do still keep my mother's 1950s-vintage molded-plastic egg carton around, I generally prefer cardboard or molded pulp paper cartons. A lot of people like the “modern” Styrofoam alternative, but once it hits our landfills that stuff has a half-life equivalent to radioactive isotopes. Whatever type floats your boat, however, it is important to freshness and quality to leave your eggs in their cartons. The cartons keep the eggs stable, oriented, and protected from jarring. They keep odors out and they help regulate temperature and humidity. Ice bins are for ice; egg cartons are for eggs.

So if you're in the “habit” of inappropriately storing your eggs, stop! Change your ways before it's too late! Move into the modern age! Give your eggs a break! (Oooo. Sorry.)