I’ve zipped my lips about blog politics for a good reason: mostly, I don’t get it. I’m much too self-involved to understand the characters in As the Blogosphere Turns or I forgot soy milk again and the coffee in my office is super weak. I don’t even have a blogroll. That would sound funny with a Scottish accent: I dunnaugh een hae a blogrooool. Please see skippy, whom I personally adore, for why today matters.
Monthly Archives: February 2009
Life Before Was Tragic Now I Know
Sometimes, my people can be astonishingly stupid.
The drive to make Italians eat Italian, which was described by the Left and leading chefs as gastronomic racism, began in the town of Lucca this week, where the council banned any new ethnic food outlets from opening within the ancient city walls.
Yesterday it spread to Lombardy and its regional capital, Milan, which is also run by the centre Right. The antiimmigrant Northern League party brought in the restrictions “to protect local specialities from the growing popularity of ethnic cuisines”.
Luca Zaia, the Minister of Agriculture and a member of the Northern League from the Veneto region, applauded the authorities in Lucca and Milan for cracking down on nonItalian food. “We stand for tradition and the safeguarding of our culture,” he said.
Milan. Really? Recent host of the Olympics?
You can find a motherfucker anywhere. There’s one now. Here’s a hint: the guy who says he stands for tradition is really interested in dismantling everyone else’s.
Mr Zaia said that those ethnic restaurants allowed to operate “whether they serve kebabs, sushi or Chinese food” should “stop importing container loads of meat and fish from who knows where” and use only Italian ingredients.
Asked if he had ever eaten a kebab, Mr Zaia said: “No – and I defy anyone to prove the contrary. I prefer the dishes of my native Veneto. I even refuse to eat pineapple.”
Good. More for me. Also: my family’s from there so I happen to remember the Veneto’s vast empire was based on trade with the entire world, such as it was, including pineapple growers.
Mehmet Karatut, who owns one of four kebab shops in Lucca, said that he used Italian meat only.
Davide Boni, a councillor in Milan for the Northern League, which also opposes the building of mosques in Italian cities, said that kebab shop owners were prepared to work long hours, which was unfair competition.
What? What? What what what? What?
“This is a new Lombard Crusade against the Saracens,” La Stampa, the daily newspaper, said. The centre-left opposition in Lucca said that the campaign was discrimination and amounted to “culinary ethnic cleansing”.
Vittorio Castellani, a celebrity chef, said: “There is no dish on Earth that does not come from mixing techniques, products and tastes from cultures that have met and mingled over time.”
He said that many dishes thought of as Italian were, in fact, imported. The San Marzano tomato, a staple ingredient of Italian pasta sauces, was a gift from Peru to the Kingdom of Naples in the 18th century. Even spaghetti, it is thought, was brought back from China by Marco Polo, and oranges and lemons came from the Arab world.
Unfortunately, stupid seems contagious in Lombardy. Well, except for the chefs, who seem to know something – I can’t put my finger on it – about food?
Mr Castellani said that the ban reflected growing intolerance and xenophobia in Italy. It was also a blow to immigrants who make a living by selling ethnic food, which is popular because of its low cost. There are 668 ethnic restaurants in Milan, a rise of nearly 30 per cent in one year.
The centre Right won national elections in April last year partly because of alarm about crime and immigration. This week there was a series of attacks on immigrants in bars and shops after the arrest of six Romanians accused of gang-raping an Italian girl in the Rome suburb of Guidonia.
Filippo Candelise, a Lucca councillor, said: “To accuse us of racism is outrageous. All we are doing is protecting the culinary patrimony of the town.”
Your crusade against kebabs will curtail rape complaints. I’m almost sure of it!
Massimo Di Grazia, the city spokesman, said that the ban was intended to improve the image of the city and to protect Tuscan products. “It targets McDonald’s as much as kebab restaurants,” he added.
There is confusion, however, over what is meant by ethnic. Mr Di Grazia said that French restaurants would be allowed. He was unsure, though, about Sicilian cuisine. It is influenced by Arab cooking.
…And invaded by everyone who every built a rowboat. My family’s from there also, which would probably skeeve Mr. Di Grazia just a bit. I happen to know the Sicilians hate him back; that whole occupation thing, you know.
Anyway, this campaign is going to backfire because meat on sticks is undeniably delicious.
Phone’ll Jingle Door’ll Knock
We’re walking through the park at an impressive clip.
Tata: Okay okay okay, so the other day, I said, “Pete, I’d like a bread machine for my birthday and he said, “That’s good. I just ordered you one.”
Leilani: It’s your birthday?
Tata: It’s in a couple of weeks, but I’m like a crazy planner. Yesterday, it arrived, hooray!
Leilani: Hooray!
Tata: By midnight, we’d already had two disastrous doughs and this morning, I tore the one we baked into bird-size hunks. Of course, I left them at home. Sorry, geese!
Leilani: Why are we here?
Tata: Two years ago, my dad got sick and I went to Virginia for a month. I blogged about it the whole time and I know it was sometimes very hard for readers to deal with how awful it was, and how funny. I mean, picture saying to people, “Please read about my dad’s hilarious death.”
Leilani: Omigod, how did you know? Yesterday, we went to see the rabbi and everyone talked at the same time. I can’t imagine what people walking by thought, with the sobbing and roaring laughter.
Tata: What did you do last night?
Leilani: My friend Ranit came over. We went to Charlie Brown’s and it was really nice. Quiet there. She doesn’t drink but I did. I laughed and laughed, then I wondered what people might think.
Tata: Listen, you won’t know what’s going to help you grieve until you stumble upon it, so be prepared to stumble. Fortunately, you can stumble home from that place.
Leilani: I haven’t got anything to wear to the service tomorrow.
Tata: Anyone’s judgment is misplaced. You can go in a bathrobe, if it’s cozy.
Leilani: Thank you for talking to me like this.
Tata: Pfffft, when Daria, Todd, Dara and I were in Virginia, we started doing this chanting thing. I mean, who can explain that? One day, we were normal nutbags. Next thing we knew we were standing around the kitchen, warbling about who was getting the paper towels to clean up the garlic off the floor. I don’t know what that means, but I do think you should start a blog immediately. Immortalize your antics.
Leilani: Really? I’ll think about it.
Tata: Good. Later, Pete and I will do donuts around a parking lot while I fling handfuls of gummy failed bread into the air while birdies roil and scream.
Leilani: You’re coming back to the park?
Tata: Absolutely. And I’ll blog the duck ruckus, because should that be lost in the mists of time?
Poor Impulse Control 