Practical Italian

Practical Italian

Our Practical Italian course with Lucca Italian School was a conversation class on the move.No syllabus or grammar lessons, just four afternoons of chiacchierare (chatting) and learning the nuances of Italian language and culture. Before this class, I had no idea that it could be considered rude to address a man as signore. The more respectful and common Dottore could be misconstrued as mocking, however, if used incorrectly. Not knowing which title is appropriate in a given situation, I now hesitate to use any!

On Day 1, our class of four students meandered the historical center of Lucca, each taking a turn to shop for something: Mike - bike chain lube, Nancy - origami paper, Gary for the Take 6 Card Game, and I for stamps. Transactions were to be carried out entirely in Italian. If anyone slipped into English, shopkeepers included, Gabrielle our instructor would throw up his hands and loudly interject, ‘Nien! Solo Italiano!’ making us all jump. Laughing, we’d shout back ‘Nien!’ then got back to the business of parlare Italiano.

On Day 2, we hopped on bicycles and pedaled within, on and outside Le Mura, the fortress wall encircling Lucca, stopping frequently to glean a language lesson from whatever was in our midst. We parked our bikes at L’Antico Borgo Pasticceria & Caffeteria for una pausa, and discussed Italian cuisine over café’ macchiato and pastries. We already knew that drinking cappuccino after lunch was ‘un-Italian’ and just not done. Only clueless tourists would make such a grievous error. But why? Our maestro explained that cappuccinos, made with equal parts espresso, steamed milk and milk foam, are too heavy to drink later in the day. He told us that the milk-based drink is best suited as a light breakfast paired with a morning cornetto (croissant), all that dairy would upset digestion if drunk after a more substantial lunch or dinner. A macchiato, (which means stained), on the other hand, is an espresso stained with a dollop of milk, and is an acceptable substitute for those of us secretly yearning for a cappuccino in the afternoon.

Gabrielle, a proud Roman, was shocked that none of us ever had Pasta Amatriciana, a culinary specialty from his home town. The ancient dish actually originated in Amatricia, a town in Abruzzo, but the Romans appropriated it as their own - imperialism at its best. Gabrielle explained how to make Pasta Amatriciana while Nancy scribbled down the recipe in her pocket notepad, trying to get all the details, hoping she could decipher it later. And then, we collectively had an ‘Aha Moment’! Why not expand our curriculum to include cooking? Now, THAT is practical Italian!

So, on Day 3, we went grocery shopping at the supermercato Esselunga, to buy the ingredients for our cooking class. Sugo d’Amatriciana is a tomato based sauce made with guanciale (salt-cured pig cheek) and pecorino cheese. Gabrielle insisted that the guanciale be from Amatricia and the pecorino be Romano. At the butcher counter, he ordered 500 grams of thinly sliced guanciale d’Amatriciana, then asked the guy in the neat white coat behind the deli counter to cut a 150 gram piece of Pecorino Romano cheese. Although nothing compares to sauce made with pomodori freschi, Gabrielle insisted that it is too early in the season for tasty tomatoes. Canned tomatoes are always good because they are harvested at the peak of their flavor during summer. We toss a large can of whole, peeled, 100% Italian tomatoes into our rolling red plastic shopping basket. Gabrielle also had a strong opinion on the type of pasta to use. Sugo d’amatriciana is a rich sauce that needs a thick and sturdy tubular pasta that captures the sauce in its hollow center for a delightful mouthful. He said fresh pasta is flimsy and demands a delicate sauce.We opted for a box of De Cecco rigatoni, but bucatini is also a good choice. Wine, a mandatory accompaniment to every fine Italian meal, except breakfast, was added to the growing pile of groceries: a box of white wine for cooking and a bottle of Umbrian red for drinking. Bread, necessary for sopping up sauce, will be picked up from the panetteria tomorrow morning.

On day 4, our class gathered for our cooking extravaganza and feast finale at the spacious apartment that my husband Mike and I were renting. Our place was not the usual Ikea furnished AirBnB, but a functional Italian home with a kitchen equipped with all the tools necessary for cooking everyday Italian cuisine. We had a hand blender to puree the tomatoes, a colander to drain the pasta, a grater to grate the cheese, and even a scale to weigh ingredients, because of course, Italian recipes are gravimetric and do not call for measuring cups or spoons.Chef Gabrielle demonstrated exactly how to measure, blend, boil, chop, stir, season, and sauté. The Maestro conducted his culinary symphony with waving arms and instructed on the specific steps to be taken in a specific sequence and done in a specific way; entirely in Italian.

He commanded “Cospargere di pepe nero la padella asciutta mentre si riscalda.” (Sprinkle black pepper into the dry pan while it is heating.) Then as if to demonstrate why, he repeatedly scooped the scent wafting from the heated peppercorns up to his nose with his cupped hand.

He directed “Versare il vino nella padella.” (Pour wine into the skillet)”. As the wine hit the pan, a hissing fragrant steam erupted from the sizzling guanciale.

While sneaking a sniff of the luscious simmering sauce, he gives us a sly look and admonishes us to “Sollevare il coperchio, solo un po'” (Lift the lid, just a little)” We didn’t know every word, but we understood everything.

Buon appetito! The meal was simply delicious and the dinner table conversation was lively. A foray into politics and religion was thankfully brief. Light hearted topics, much easier on digestion, were not in short supply.We all had hilarious language bloopers to share; Nancy’s ‘Aglio vs Olio’ story still cracks me up!What better way to learn and love a language than with friends, food and fun! Grazie a miei amici!

‘Aglio, Olio’

...a recounting of Nancy’s blooper story

My husband Gary and I were having dinner in a restaurant in Puglia, Italy. There was a basket of bread on the table but no oil. I like dipping bread in olive oil, so in my best Italian, I asked the waiter for a plate of aglio. He cocked his head, gave me an odd look, then disappeared into the kitchen. Why the hesitation I wondered? Is dipping bread in olive oil not a thing in Puglia? We waited and waited for the cameriere to return with the olive oil, and just as I was about to give up on the dipping idea, he reappeared. He served us, not the expected bowl of olive oil, but a plate piled high with neatly peeled, raw, whole garlic cloves. I mumbled grazie and could feel my cheeks redden. Oh, no!I mispronounced olio and mistakenly asked for aglio! I knew someone painstakingly peeled all this garlic for me, so I swallowed my pride along with every clove on the plate.

PASTA AMATRICIANA

Guanciale d’Amatriciana, sliced (100 g/person)

Pecorino Romano cheese, grated (30 g/person)

Whole, peeled Italian Roma tomatoes, 800 g.

Black pepper and red chili pepper flakes

Dry, white wine, 50 g

Pasta, rigatoni or bucatini

Remove any ‘skin’ from guanciale, then cut slices cross-wise into smaller strips. Heat fresh ground black pepper in a large dry pan (no oil). Add guanciale strips to skillet and cook until transparent and lightly browned, but not crisp. Add white wine and let simmer to reduce and let flavors mingle. Turn off heat. Using a slotted spoon, transfer guanciale to a small bowl, strain any residual oil back into the pan. Let guanciale rest, covered to stay warm.

Puree tomatoes until smooth with hand blender, then add to the guanciale fat remaining in pan. Season with more black pepper & red chili pepper flakes. Simmer 15- 20 minutes. Remove one handful (~25%) of guanciale and set aside for the topping. Add the remaining guanciale to the sauce, let simmer uncovered for another 5 minutes.

To make topping, cook the handful (25%) of guanciale in dry skillet until crisp, not burnt, then chop. Set aside.

Cook pasta in boiling, salted water until al dente. Drain, reserve a ladle full of pasta water.

Return drained pasta to large pasta pot, with the small amount of reserved pasta water.Add the sauce, one ladle at a time, stirring to evenly coat the pasta. Mix in the grated cheese.

Serve pasta in wide, shallow bowls. Top with crispy bits of guanciale and more cheese.