How To Write An Effective Restaurant Review

I realized the other day that I have expended a lot of virtual ink slamming bad restaurant reviews on the Internet, but I haven't put forth much effort in explaining how to write a good review. In this instance, I am not speaking of the content of the review being good or bad, but rather of the structure of the review itself.

Too many would-be reviewers take to the blogosphere and write things like, “This place rocks!” or “This place sucks!” These aren't reviews, they're ejaculations. (Look it up. It doesn't always mean what you think it does.) In fact, most of the “reviews” that appear on a plethora of increasingly popular social media sites aren't really reviews at all; they are merely comments. “I recommend Restaurant X. The food is really good” is a nice statement, but it's hardly a review.

There are rules and procedures involved in writing a proper review. You don't have to go on for pages and pages – as I sometimes do – but you do have to cover the basics.

In order to be useful, a review must be objective. When warranted, it's okay to be effusive with your praise, but it's equally important to be constructive with your criticism. “Reviews” that do nothing more than blatantly trash a business are pretty transparent. Most people can detect an ax being ground and will ignore overly and overtly negative pieces.

Rule number one in writing an effective review is to know your subject. I write about Italian food. I keep my mouth shut on other cuisines because I don't know enough about them. Therefore, I would not breeze into a Thai restaurant, order a dish about which I knew nothing, and then baldly proclaim, “This place has terrible food.”

In the same vein, be specific in your commentary. Don't make blanket statements like, “this place has bad food” or “this place has good food” until you've had a representative sampling of the menu. Ever watch any of those “restaurant rescue” shows like “Kitchen Nightmares” or “Restaurant: Impossible?” Notice that Gordon Ramsay and Robert Irvine order several dishes off the menu before they declare the food delicious or unfit to eat. (Usually the latter.) You may say that a particular dish is good or bad, but you can't praise or lambast all the food on a fifty-item menu based on the one thing you ordered.

When talking about the food you ate, don't just say “it was good” or “it was bad.” Why was it good or bad? Was it cooked properly? Was the temperature what it was supposed to be. Cold soup and a hot salad are good reasons to complain. And when it comes to discussing flavors and textures and such, if you don't have the palate to back up your opinions, shut up. There's nothing more annoying or pretentious than somebody who lets Chef Mike – as in microwave – do all the cooking at home, then goes out to a restaurant and suddenly becomes an expert on taste and texture and seasoning. Unless you really know what you're talking about, stick to the basics – too salty, too spicy, too sweet, etc. Don't over analyze. “The spaghetti was cold and a little overcooked and the sauce was too sweet for my taste” is a good, concise statement. No need to load up on adjectives and metaphors.

Talk about prices. Be specific. Generalities like, “this place is too expensive” are useless. You may consider a ten-dollar entree to be too expensive. I may not. Quote a specific price for the specific dish you purchased and include a price range for other offerings on the menu. “I paid $14 for my entree. Other entrees ranged from $12 to $18.” Let the reader decide whether or not the place is too expensive.

Discuss value. How were portions in relation to the prices? And was the quality equal to the cost? Again, know what you're talking about. Don't mouth off and say something was “canned” or “boxed” or “cheap” unless you can back it up. If necessary, qualify your statement. “I thought the sauce tasted canned” is a much safer declaration than “the sauce was canned.”

There's more to a restaurant than its food. Talk about those other things that affect your dining experience. Was the hostess friendly or surly? Was the waiter or waitress efficient and attentive or did they slop water on your table and otherwise ignore you? If there was music, was it too loud or out of character with the surroundings? Nothing goes with a nice Italian meal like a little Def Leppard played at earsplitting levels. How about the lighting? Did you need to keep your sunglasses on or were you required to use a flashlight in order to read the menu?

Pay attention to other details. Were you there for lunch or for dinner? Was the place crowded or empty. These things are important because they affect the overall service.

Some social media sites cover the nuts and bolts so you don't have to. But it's not a bad idea to note them just in case. Where is the restaurant located and what is the address? What are the hours of operation? Do you need reservations? What's the phone number? What constitutes appropriate dress? Is it a good “date” place or is it “family friendly?” How's the parking? Do they have a website?

As to the writing itself, first and foremost, use good grammar and spelling. People really do judge you by the way you speak and write. If you come across on paper as uneducated, your review is weightless. If you can't spell, punctuate, and form complete coherent sentences, why should I pay any attention to what you say?

It's okay to inject a little personality into your review. Be funny, be sarcastic, but above all, be intelligent. And don't be vulgar. Don't say, “the waitress was a bitch” even if she was. Don't say, “the food sucks” even if it does. When you make the statement, "this tastes like s**t," the first question that comes to my mind is "How does he know what s**t tastes like?" And “text speak” should be reserved for texting with your friends. “You” is never expressed as “U”. “R” is not an appropriate substitute for “are.” Such may be acceptable among your peers, but posting to the Internet opens you up to a wide audience. You may think it's sick to LOL with your peeps, but most of your readers will just think you're immature.

Despite the fact that I frequently criticize them, I can see the potential value in social media review sites. But as most of them stand now, they are of little merit due to the questionable caliber of their content. More effective reviews from better informed reviewers will go a long way toward increasing their viability.

UK Pizza Hut's "Hot-Dog Stuffed-Crust" Further Adulterates Pizza

Once upon a time, nobody but Italians knew about pizza. Maybe it should have stayed that way.

Since its culinary “coming out” in the post-WWII years, the traditional Neapolitan pizza – a thin-crusted delight with a light topping of tomato sauce and cheese – has been adulterated by every culture that has touched it to the point where nowadays the word “pizza” is synonymous with “garbage pile.”

Gennaro Lombardi brought a simple pie to America in 1905, and the “improvements” and “innovations” began almost immediately. Gennaro himself made the first “improvements” out of necessity; rather than constructing his pizzas – actually, pizze if you want to be Italian about it – in the old-world way, he had to adapt to the ingredients available to him. New York was not noted for its roaming herds of water-buffalo, so the traditional mozzarella di bufala had to be replaced by a fior di latte, a cow's milk cheese that America has come to call “mozzarella.”

Then came the polluters and blasphemers, starting with Texas-athlete-turned-Chicago-salesman Ike Sewell who arbitrarily decided that pizza needed to be Texas-sized, so he proceeded to throw enormous proportions of traditional pizza ingredients into a casserole. He called it “Chicago Deep Dish Pizza.”

A bunch of California guys like Wolfgang Puck and California Pizza Kitchen founders Rick Rosenfield and Larry Flax further “innovated” pizza by throwing anything remotely edible onto a pizza crust.

Of course, you have to give a lot of credit to a little venture started by a couple of brothers out in Kansas. When it comes to “garbage pizza,” Pizza Hut is the most egregious “innovator” of them all. “Let's see how much meat we can put on a 'meat lover's'.” “We'll denude a garden and call it a 'Supreme'.” “There's no such thing as 'too much cheese'.” Extra cheese! Extra meat! Extra vegetables! Extra! Extra! Extra! Obesity epidemic? Perish the thought!

And now comes the UK branch of Pizza Hut with a new wretched excess; the “Hot-Dog Stuffed-Crust Pizza.” Uh-huh, that's right. Some brainiac in the R&D department figured that wrapping a hot dog in pizza dough was a good thing. And if you're making “pigs-in-a-blanket,” it is. Not so much, though, when it comes to pizza. And they'll even throw in a FREE mustard drizzle! Woo-hoo! Mustard on pizza! Now there's innovation that would make Gennaro Lombardi weep! Or spin in his grave.

Wait a minute! Wait a minute! Don't they make cheese-stuffed hot-dogs? Try this one out, Pizza Hut; you take the cheese-stuffed crust you already offer and stuff it with a cheese-stuffed hot-dog! Then you do a special offer with a meat-lover's variety with extra cheese! Every cardiologist on the planet would be buying stock in your company!

It all makes one little Italian immigrant with some flatbread, some tomatoes, and a little cheese, all wrapped in a paper bundle tied with string look somehow lonely and forlorn, doesn't it?

Mario Batali's Timpano di Maccheroni A Kitchen Nightmare

Whether on TV or in person, I love to watch Mario Batali cook. He's incredibly personable and has a great rapport with his audience. He's knowledgeable and passionate and you learn a lot just watching him regardless of whether you ever intend to prepare any of the sometimes exotic and arcane dishes he demonstrates.

Well, I caught Mario's act on ABC's The Chew not long ago on a day when he was preparing a Timpano di Maccheroni. An impressive stuffed pasta pie, he billed it as a great dish for parties and celebrations. He also touted how very easy the dish was to prepare. Perfect, I thought, for an upcoming event I'm supposed to cater.

But first, there's Easter. A big family food holiday and an opportunity to guinea pig a new recipe. I'll wow family and friends with a timpano before I try it out on a client. Only, I was the one who got “wowed.” As in, “Wow! Was that una grande dolore in culo!” (That's “a big pain in the ass” for those of you who are Italian-challenged.)

See, the thing is, it's easy for Mario to say something is “easy” because he has a huge team of prep cooks working behind the scenes to make it look easy. But when it's just you and your long-suffering spouse, it's a whole 'nuther story. Especially if you're trying to turn out cheesecake and various other side items at the same time. Easy-schmeezy!

To be somewhat fair to Mario, the actual assembly of the dish is easy. It's ten-minute easy. BUT......

Let me describe this kitchen nightmare. You make a crust that's somewhere between pasta and pastry. You lay said crust in a big metal bowl that's been buttered and breadcrumbed so that the edges overlap the rim of the bowl. Then you add a layer of rigatoni that's been cooked in a besciamella sauce and to which a little ham or prosciutto has been added. Top that with some freshly-grated parmigiano-reggiano. Add a layer of meatballs that have been cooked in a tomato sauce. Top that with more cheese. Then you add a layer of a nice ragu, or meat sauce. Fold the “flaps” of dough over the whole thing, cover with foil and bake. Easy!!

And if I would have had somebody pre-make my crust, pre-cook my pasta, pre-make my white sauce, my red sauce, my meat sauce, and my meatballs so that all I had to do was dance around on my little black Crocs – mine are black, not orange – putting it all together, why, I'd be a happy camper, too!

Of course, if I were one of those kind of cooks, I would have used the pie dough that comes in little rolls in the dairy case and combined it with some jarred sauces and frozen meatballs. That, also, would have been pretty easy.

But, no-o-o-o. I spent hours making all the sauces from scratch. I even cut up and ground the meat that went into the ragu and the meatballs. And the dough was scratch-made, too. And then there was the time it took to grate piles of cheese and the time to cook the pasta and cutting up the prosciutto and a dozen other “little” things that all had to be done before the final “easy” assembly and baking, which, by the way, took an hour-and-a-half.

My wife has threatened to hurt me if I ever again utter “easy” and “Batali” in the same sentence.

And then there's the recipe issue. I went to The Chew's website for the recipe. I don't know who wrote it, but it's whacked.

First, there's the dough. The recipe says you can hydrate 2 ½ cups of flour with a teaspoon of water. You can't. My wife made the dough while I was working on sauces and she kept adding and adding water to achieve the “lumpy mass” the recipe called for before kneading and resting the dough. And things got worse instead of better after the dough rested. Worse to the point where we almost remade the dough. We finally got it to work, but only by following our experience and instincts, not by following the recipe.

The recipe was full of weird instructions. For instance, they wanted me to make the ragu, or meat sauce, by cooking the meat in tomato sauce for three hours and then removing the meat. Huh?

And the ingredient proportions were equally ridiculous. The recipe called for two pounds of rigatoni. The biggest metal mixing bowl in my kitchen measures 12-inches across the top. I struggled to get a little more than half of the cooked pasta into that bowl. I do have a small metal washtub that probably would have worked, but it wouldn't fit in my oven.

Ultimately, the dish was – as most Batali dishes are – a triumph. When we finally got the cursed thing put together and baked, we upended it onto a serving platter, lightly thumped the bowl, lifted it and revealed an absolutely perfect golden dome of pasta and meat-filled deliciousness that awed our guests into numerous expressions of admiration.

And we vowed to never make it again.....at least not according to that recipe.

Timpano di Maccheroni is a great concept and one of these days I'll write out the recipe in a way that won't leave you cursing, mumbling, and panting when you try to make it. In the meantime, I hope the guests at my upcoming event won't mind lasagne.

April (2012) Fun Food Holidays

I could start out by saying April has been declared National Pink Slime Month, but that would be going too far even for an April Fool joke. However, I will tell you about a great prank I heard about: a bunch of high school kids rounded up three chickens, hung the numbers 1, 2, and 4 on them, and turned them loose in the school. Administrators went nuts looking for chicken number three.

Of course, Easter dominates as the major food holiday this month. Regardless of whether it falls in March or April, Easter Sunday is recognized as National Baked Ham with Pineapple Day. And how many things can you think of to do with boiled eggs? But there are lots of other fun foodie days in April. For instance, month-long recognition goes to soft pretzels, garlic, Florida tomatoes, and grilled cheese. Of course, I celebrate these things every month, but this month it's official.

Also official in April, National Bake Week begins on April 1^st and, speaking of things to do with boiled eggs, the second week in April is National Egg Salad Week.

April 1 is also National Sourdough Bread Day, a great way to kick off Grilled Cheese Month, I must say.

April 2 is dedicated to the classic peanut butter and jelly sandwich, which, I suppose, you could also make on sourdough bread if you had any left over from the previous day.

A little chocolate mousse is always a good thing, but it's even better on it's own official holiday, April 3.

Grab a chicken, some ham, some cheese and go to town for National Cordon Bleu Day on April 4.

Take your pick; you can either celebrate National Caramel Day or National Raisin and Spice Bar Day on April 5. Okay, I guess you could celebrate both.

Pour some of that leftover caramel on popcorn for National Caramel Popcorn Day, April 6.

The 7^th is Coffee Cake Day and if you're not doing baked ham and pineapple for Easter, you could always go for an empanada on April 8, National Empanada Day.

Chinese almond cookies take the day on April 9, the 10^th is reserved for cinnamon crescents (or croissants), and the 11^th belongs to cheese fondue.

Wonder Bread and Kraft American Cheese Slices are the order of the day on the 12^th, National Grilled Cheese Sandwich Day. It's also National Licorice Day, but as much as I like the two separately, I can't quite imagine them together.

Peach cobbler is the star on April 13 and pecans have their day on the 14^th.

If you didn't do an Easter ham on the 8th, it's okay. You can redeem yourself on April 15, National Glazed Spiral Ham Day.

Eggs Benedict and mushrooms share the day on April 16. Hmmm.....mushrooms on Eggs Benedict?

It's National Cheeseball Day on the 17^th. Coincidentally, it's also Healthy Kids Day. Hmmmm...

Believe it or not, animal crackers have an official birthday. It's April 18^th. When I was a kid, I always bit the heads off first.

Speaking of heads, National Garlic Day falls on the 19^th, as does National Amaretto Day. Two Italian staples that should probably not be celebrated jointly.

Nor should pineapple upside-down cake and lima beans, but they are both assigned the same holiday on April 20. (Actually, it's Lima Bean RESPECT Day. Cue Aretha Franklin.)

Chocolate-covered cashew truffles get a day all to themselves on the 21^st.

April 22 is National Jelly Bean Day. It's also Earth Day this year. No connection. Just sayin'.

Now, cherry-cheesecake and picnics could be connected, I suppose. They share the day on April 23.

The 24^th belongs to pigs-in-a-blanket and the 25^th to zucchini bread.

Pretzels are prime on April 26, National Pretzel Day.

Give it up for prime rib on the 27^th, followed by kudos for blueberry pie on the 28^th.

Shrimp scampi is the speciale del giorno on April 29^th and raisins rule on April 30.

Stick around to see if April food showers bring May food flowers!

Buon appetito!

How To Order Like An Italian In An Italian Restaurant

Everybody loves Italian food. It remains at the top of the pyramid as the most popular “foreign” cuisine in America. The biggest drawback most people have when ordering Italian food is pronunciation.

Italian is one of the most lyrical, romantic languages in the world. As written by the 13^th century “Father of the Italian Language,” Dante Alighieri, it is the language of art, music – and food. But English-speakers have always had a hard time with Italian words. I don't know why. Italian is just not that difficult. But as far back as the early twentieth century, Italian chef Ettore Boiardi had to spell his name in phonetic English – “boy-AR-dee” – in order to keep Americans from mangling it.

Oddly enough, some of the worst manglers are Italian-Americans. There are reasons for that. When Italian immigrants arrived on American shores, many were desperate to “fit in,” to “be American.” Many “Americanized” their names and “Americanized” their language. This was especially true during World War II, when Mussolini's alliance with Nazi Germany caused anti-Italian sentiments to run high in the U.S. As a result, a lot of Italian words were altered to sound more American. Regional dialects also played a part. “Italian” is actually based on the Tuscan dialect, but other regions often pronounce words differently. And then there's just general linguistic laziness. People in the Italian-American enclaves of New York, New Jersey, and South Philadelphia are especially guilty of abbreviating and desecrating pure Italian with words like “pro-SHOOT” in place of prosciutto, “mahtz-a-RELL” instead of mozzarella and for turning a masculine Italian name like Mario (MAH-ree-oh) into something that sounds more like a female horse, “MARE-ee-oh.”

Some people might think you are being pretentious when you try to “sound Italian” in an Italian restaurant. I disagree. There is no pretension in being correct. In my opinion – an opinion shared by most language experts – when a “foreign” word is introduced into a language, the correct pronunciation of that word is the pronunciation afforded it in its original tongue. It's a matter of “when you make up words, you can say 'em your way; when I make up words, you say 'em my way.”

The French will slap you down for the slightest improper inflection of their language. Italians? Not so much. Oh, they'll cringe, but they won't complain. I, however, being a prig and a purist, will. Therefore, permit me to offer a brief vocabulary lesson in the proper pronunciation of Italian foodstuffs.

Unlike English, Italian is a phonetic language. You say it like you see it. That makes it easy because there are no crazy letter combinations. No “eight” that sounds like “ate.” No “knights” and “nights.” No silent “e”s. There are five vowels. Each has one or two simple sounds: “A” sounds like the “a” in “car” – it's an “ah” sound; “E” has two sounds, one like the “e” in “men” and the other like the “ay” in “hay”; “I” is always sounded like “ee”; “O” also has two sounds, “oh” as in “coat” and “aw” as in “frost”; and “U” is always sounded as “oo.” That's it.

There are a few rules regarding consonants. For instance, the “r” is always rolled. The “ch” combination is a hard “k” sound, as in “chianti.” The same sound is produced when “c” precedes “a”, “o”, or “u”. The letter “c” followed by an “e” or an “i” produces a “ch” sound, as in “church.” A “g” followed by “a”, “o,” or “u” has a hard sound, as in “good.” When followed by an “e” or and “i,” it produces a soft sound, like the “j” in “job.” The “gn” combination is sounded like the “ny” in “canyon.” The “gia” combination is tricky; Italians pronounce each letter, but they do so very quickly. It comes out sounding like “jyah.” It's never “JEE-ah.” Giada De Laurentiis is “JYAH-dah” not “jee-AH-dah” and Gianni Versace is “JYAH-nee” rather than “jee-AH-nee.” It's harder to write it than it is to say it.

“H” is the only silent letter in the Italian language.

One more consonant rule: In English, double consonants are lumped together and sounded as one. In Italian, you separate them. One consonant ends a syllable and the other begins the next. Not in an exaggerated way, but still very distinctly. You'll see the importance of this later.

English-speakers pluralize words by tacking an “s” onto the end. And since that's the way it's done in English, that must be the way everybody does it, right? Not really. When you see the word “paninis” on a sign or menu, you're looking at a made up word. You can have a panino if you would like just one sandwich or if you want more than one you can have panini. No “s”. Same thing applies to any word that ends in “i.” It's already plural. Cannelloni, ravioli, tortellini, cannoli, etc. Adding an “s” to such words does not make them plural, it just makes them wrong. In America, such errors have become accepted through common usage, but “I'll have a panini” or “I'd like two paninis” is still bad Italian.

Another peculiar peccadillo involves any word that ends in “e.” Perhaps because there are so many “silent e” word endings in English, English-speakers seem to have an aversion to pronouncing the “e” at the end of any word. But remember, Italian is phonetic. The “e” is meant to be sounded. A calzone, for example, is correctly pronounced “kahl-ZAW-nay.” “KAL-zone” or “kal-ZONE” is incorrect.

One big minefield for mispronunciation is Italian cheeses. I once asked the “sandwich artist” at a national chain place for a slice of provolone on my sandwich. Of course, I said, “proh-voh-LOH-nay.” She said, “Oh, you mean “PRO-vuh-lone?” No, dear, I meant exactly what I said, thank you.

Mascarpone drives me wild. It's not “MASS-kar-pohn.” It's “Mahs-kar-POH-nay.” And despite what some TV chefs constantly say, it's most definitely not “MARS-kuh-pone.” Look at the word. “Mascarpone.” There's no “r” before the “s.”

Mozzarella and ricotta are delicious cheeses. And they sound delicious when correctly pronounced. “Mohts-sah-RAYL-lah” and “ree-KAWT-tah” sound yummy. “Mahtz-uh-RELLA” and “ruh-KOTTA” just sound unappetizing.

Parmigiano-Reggiano is pronounced “par-mee-JYAH-noh rej-JYAH-noh” not “par-ma-gee-AH-no reg-ee-AH-no” as Americans say it. And if you just say “parmesan,” that's okay, but it's “PAR-mee-zahn,” not “parma-john” or “parma-zhan,” or “par-mee-zee-an” or any of a dozen other variations.

Other commonly mutilated Italian food words include:

Biscotti: Americans tend to flatten this word out – “bis-KOT-ee.” “Bee-SKAWT-tee” is correct. “Bee-SKOHT-tee,” is pretty close. “Bis-KOT-ee” is not even in the ballpark.

Bolognese: Regarding that wonderful meat sauce from Bologna, remember the “gn” and the final “e”. “Bolognese” does not rhyme with “mayonnaise.” It's “boh-loh-NYAY-seh,” not “BO-luh-naze” or “bo-luh-NAZE.”

Braciole; This is one of those dialect things. In Sicily – and, by extension, Sicilian neighborhoods in the US – this beef dish is pronounced “brah-ZHOOL.” Sort of. Anywhere else in Italy, it's “brah-chee-OH-leh.”

Bruschetta: It gets way under my skin when I hear someone ask for “broo-SHET-uh.” It gets even further under my skin when a server offers “broo-SHET-uh.” I have crawled many a waiter or waitress for that transgression. The word comes from “bruscare” and is pronounced “broo-SKAYT-tah.” Even “broo-SKET-tah,” would be okay. But “broo-SHET-uh” is just annoyingly wrong. Think of it this way; do you send your kids to SHOOL?

Caprese: Capri is an island off the coast of Italy. It is properly pronounced “KAH-pree” rather than “kuh-PREE.” “Kuh-PREE” has something to do with women's pants. Anyway, cuisine from the island is correctly pronounced as “kah-PRAY-say” rather than “kuh-PREES.”

Espresso: I don't know where anybody sees an “x” in that word. “Es-PREHS-soh is correct. “Expresso” must be the instant or “express” version of Italian coffee.

Gnocchi: One of those tricky words. It's got the “gn”, the “o”, a double consonant, and a “ch” to deal with. The proper pronunciation is “NYAWK-kee.” As long as you use the “ny” sound at the beginning, you can probably get by with cheating a long vowel sound – “NYOAK-kee.” However, any variation of “NOH-kee” is badly incorrect.

Marinara: This one has the old “fingernails on a blackboard” effect on me. Even more so than “broo-SHET-uh.” Scads of Americans order “mare-uh-NARE-uh” all the time. Aaarrrggg! What they should be ordering is “mah-ree-NAH-rah.” That other ugly abomination is just a butchery of the language.

Pancetta: I actually heard an Italian-American restaurateur talking about “pan-SET-uh” on national TV. Buddy, either learn to say “pahn-CHEHT-tah” or go open a hot dog stand.

Pasta: If you hear someone say “PASS-tuh,” he probably orders “TACK-ohs” in Mexican restaurants. He could be British. The Brits make worse Italians than Americans do. Which is just weird because they also say “toh-MAH-toh.” Anyway, even in London, “PAHS-tah” is correct. “PASS-tuh” is not.

And then there are the various kinds of pasta. Americans hopelessly twist pasta names like spaghetti, tagliatelle, fettuccine and others. Instead of “spah-GEHT-tee,” “tah-glee-ah-TAYL-lay,” and “feht-too-CHEEN-nay,” you get “spuh-GET-ee,” “tag-lee-uh-TELL-ee,” and “fet-uh-CHEE-nee” every time. Even my food hero Alton Brown is guilty of “tag-lee-uh-TELL-ee.” E tu, Alton? And have you ever ordered a male body part for dinner? You have if you've ordered “PEN-eh” pasta. This is one of those words where the separation of the double consonant is really important. “Penne” is pronounced “PAYN-nay.” or even “PEHN-neh.” Hit that brief separation or you come away sounding like you're asking for pene, the aforementioned body part. Also,“penne” is not a homophone for a copper coin. “Penny pasta” might be a good price for the dish, but it's lousy pronunciation.

Pasta fagioli: If the stars make-a you drool like-a “pasta fazool,” that's a-wrong-o. It's pasta fah-JYOH-lee. If you order “pasta fazool” in New York, they'll give you a bean dish. If you order it in Italy, they'll give you a funny look.

Risotto: When it comes to pronunciation fits, this creamy, delicious rice dish falls into the same category as biscotti and gnocchi. It's “ree-SAWT-toh,” or even “ree-SOHT-toh.” But there is definitely no “z” sound. It's not “rizz-OH-toh.” And while some English-speakers can get the hang of rolling their “r”s – Scots do it quite well – most Americans just can't manage it. So as long as you're not putting some weird buzzing sound in the middle of the word, you can get a break on the “r.”

Americans have gotten a bad rep all over the world because we always expect people in other countries to do things our way. The “right” way. The American way. Which means, of course, everybody should speak our language. But people in other cultures really do appreciate it when you respect them enough to at least attempt their way of speaking.

Not long ago, I was being assisted by a Japanese clerk in a big chain department store. She spoke English well enough, but with a very heavy accent. When I thanked her by saying “domo arigato,” she positively beamed with happiness. I had made her day with one appropriate phrase in her language.

So how about it? Are you ready to be a “goodwill ambassador” to your favorite Italian restaurant? With a little practice, it's easy to pick up a few food words. And it's a great way to impress your friends without having to lay out a week's pay for a copy of Rosetta Stone.

Buon appetito e buon pronuncia!

Hey, Man! You Want a Vasectomy With That Pizza?

I am a great believer that pizza goes with everything and everything goes with pizza. A little salad, a little bruschetta or American garlic bread – especially the cheesy kind – a little wine or a nice, cold beer. What could be better?

How about a vasectomy?

With “March Madness” upon us and a lot of guys looking for a good deal on some gameday pizza, Urology Associates of Cape Cod (Massachusetts) has teamed up with Surf's Up Pizza & Seafood to offer a unique “buy one, get one free” special: purchase one vasectomy at regular price and get a free pizza.

It's a limited time proposition; when the NCAA basketball tournament's over, so is the BOGO deal. But in the meantime, the somewhat insouciant offer is being made in an attempt to raise awareness of the procedure. Evan Cohen, a practice coordinator for the urology group, says most men don't know a lot about vasectomy, which he dubs, “kind of a touchy subject.” “We're trying to make it light,” he says, “so it's easier to talk about.”

And besides, according to Cohen, it takes a day or two of recovery time after the ten-minute surgical procedure. Men are supposed to just kick back and avoid strenuous activity. So laying out on the couch watching basketball on TV and munching pizza is just what the doctor ordered, right?

Historically, the urology practice sees most if it's vasectomy patients in March, kind of a buffer month between the busy winter holidays and the active spring and summer outdoor season. And although vasectomy is definitely a manly affair, Cohen says it's usually women who make the appointments.

Excuse me, I've gotta get the door.

“Honey, why is the pizza delivery guy wearing scrubs?”

"Pink Slime" Is "Good For You" and "the Right Thing to Do"? Give Me a Break!

I brought up the “Pink Slime” topic awhile back when McDonald's “officially” announced they were going to stop using it. My question then was, “why did they ever start using it?”

Jamie Oliver made me aware of “Pink Slime” about a year ago on his short-lived Food Revolution program. (Isn't it odd that the show was canceled after Jamie started rattling too many cages?) I think he made a lot of people aware and I think that's at least a part of the reason for McDonald's, Burger King, and Taco Bell deciding to eliminate it from their products. Oh, they won't admit that. McDonald's has some cockamamie corporate excuse about being “consistent with our global beef supply chain.” Whatever.

I mentioned, too, that “pink slime” sent me straight to the store for a meat grinder attachment for my KitchenAid. Not that I ever trusted those “economy” packages of ground beef at the grocery store – you know, the five-pound tubes all wrapped in opaque plastic – but after learning that “pink slime” is in about seventy percent of the ground beef sold in American supermarkets, I was more motivated than ever to either shop at my local butcher's or grind my own meats.

Now come two developments in the “slime” story that make me question our survival as a species. The first is the revelation that the USDA – the government agency allegedly responsible for the safety and nutritional value of our food supply – is buying seven million pounds of the crap to add to school lunches. These are the same people who recently dictated that a homemade turkey sandwich fell short of their nutritional “standards” for an elementary schooler, who was subsequently forced by the “cafeteria food police” to eat the approved “healthy” alternative – chicken nuggets.

The second sign of impending apocalypse comes from a mouthpiece for the American Meat Institute, who proclaims “pink slime” to be “the right thing to do.” And a PR flack for “slime” manufacturer Beef Products Inc. chimes in with the opinion that the stuff is actually good for your kiddies.

The rationale behind these mind-numbingly, jaw-droppingly inane statements is as follows: the AMI wants you to believe that they are being all green and fuzzy by promoting “pink slime” because the manufacturer is using every part of every animal it processes, thereby decreasing by millions the number of animals slaughtered and thus producing a leaner, cleaner, greener planet.

When you finish choking on that one, try swallowing BPI's marketing masterpiece: according to them, “Lean Finely Textured Beef,” the “proper” name for “pink slime,” is good for school lunches because it “increases the nutritional profile,” “increases the safety of the products,” and it helps schools make budget, thereby enabling them to keep feeding cheap crap to your kids. Well.....the spokesperson didn't say the last part quite that way, but that's the translation.

You gotta love somebody who can sell bikinis in Lapland. But remember, too, that there was a time not long ago when tobacco companies employed images of doctors puffing their favorite brands in an effort to market the “healthy” effects of smoking. So pardon me if I don't jump headlong onto the “pink slime” bandwagon just yet.

And if all those people who used to point and scream about the links between the Bush administration and the oil industry would now aim their little flashlights at the connections between the meat industry and the USDA, the results would be quite illuminating.

Of course, the USDA itself is not without an opinion. They weigh in with the statement that “all USDA beef purchases must meet the highest standards for food safety.”

Okay, so the totally objective and completely impervious to influence folks that the Fed employees to monitor our food tell us that “pink slime” is safe to eat. I'll give them the benefit of the doubt, even though I have my reservations about the safety of scrap animal parts that used to be consigned to dog food miraculously being transformed by saturation with a gaseous form of ammonia. You know, the next time I pump out my septic tank I think I'll send a honey-wagon load to South Dakota and see what the chemical wizards at BPI can do for it. Who knows? It may led to a whole new “safe” food source.

No, the larger issue is just because we can eat something, should we? I mean, what's next? Soylent green burgers?

Don't listen to the Big Meat man flogging the “nutritional” properties of “LFTB.” There aren't any. It's filler, plain and simple. Meat extender. Something to take the place of something more expensive. Meat byproducts. Dressed-up dog food. You know the stuff the butcher cuts away from your steak or your roast? The fat, the gristle, the silver skin, the connective tissue that you don't really want on your plate? THAT'S what they're grinding up and trying to sell you as a product that will “increase the nutritional profile” of your kid's school lunch. They run those leavings – and others you don't want to consider – through a centrifuge to spin out the solids. Then they run it through an extruder and gas it. What comes out is something like pink beef Play-Doh or meat Jello. But, by God, it's safe! Even e coli doesn't want to eat the stuff.

I'm sure the screws got put to the slime salesmen after McDonald's and Burger King jumped ship. BPI's still in business so somebody's buying their product. Just like the tobacco companies ramped up their overseas marketing after doors began to close in America, the purveyors of “pink slime” will find an alternative outlet. Somebody with an underwhelming concern for quality and an overarching concern for the bottom line will buy it. Somebody like the federal government. Or maybe your local grocer.

On the heels of the increased interest in “pink slime,” ABC News did a little research into where “slime” is sold. They contacted the top ten grocery chains in the United States and asked about their “pink slime” policies.

Safeway says it relies on the federal government to help guide them on food safety issues. But to their credit, they also admitted that they are “reviewing” the “pink slime” matter.

Ahold USA, parent company of Stop & Shop and Giant stores, issued a rambling statement defending “pink slime” then told ABC News that their customers can basically choose between “slimed” and “non-slimed” beef products. Just ask any “meat associate” for assistance.

Costco, Publix, H-E-B, Whole Foods, Kroger, and Tops Markets have all firmly said “no” to the slime. The remaining stores did not respond to the network's e-mails.

I made a phone call and determined that Harris-Teeter meats are also slime-free.

I can easily avoid “pink slime.” As I said earlier, I'm fortunate enough to have a good old-fashioned butcher shop nearby. I haven't bought meat from a grocery store in a very long time. I also own a meat grinder. It's just my wife and me at home. My kids are beyond the reaches of the school lunch program and my grandkids aren't subject to it – yet.

If you have concerns about “pink slime” in your kids' school lunches (or in your grocer's meat case), voice them. Be the squeaky wheel. Don't worry, nobody's going to cancel you like they did Jamie Oliver. Call your school, call your grocer. Ask questions, demand answers. There are currently a number of “No Slime” petitions circulating online. Find one – or two or six – and add your name. I was going to provide a link, but there are a bunch of them out there. Just enter “pink slime petition” into your search engine and you'll see what I mean.

Worry not, trusting citizen. “Pink slime” is “safe” and “government approved.” Need I say more?