TALKING ABOUT COOKING AND EATING
Following the story below is a recipe for Risotto Verde, illustrative of particulars in the story.
I'm forever fascinated how different peoples talk about the way they cook and eat. To express satiety, for instance, an American will push away from the table and say, "I'm stuffed." The pleasure of eating is somatic, belly-bursting. It’s about corporeal real estate.
The French, on the other hand, consider such body talk rude. A French person invariably will cut off further servings of food with a comment on quality, not quantity, and say something such as “That was very good, thank you.”
Surprisingly, the French at table do not discuss food the way we might assume. (It is we who go on about French food more than they do.) For the French, meal-speak is about wit, turns of phrase on subjects Americans consider table taboos: sex, politics, religion.
Yet, for some funny reason, the French use food talk to refer to most everything off the table. A loved one is a “petit chou” (a little cabbage). A heavy hitter is “un grand fromage” (a big cheese). When all hope is lost, “Les carottes sont cuites.” (“The carrots are cooked.”) Those who have the shakes “sucrer les fraises” (sugar the strawberries). There are many more French sayings that use food and eating to talk about much else beyond food and eating.
Like French, Spanish eat-speaks when it doesn't. The main way to express liking most anything—sunsets, a sweater, a sweetheart—is the verb “gustar,” via the Latin, the base of our English “gustatory.”
Spaniards have at their disposal all sorts of proverbs about daily life that relate to food: for example, “Al pan pan y al vino vino” (Bread is bread and wine is wine) or “Call a spade a spade.”
However, in the years that I’ve been paying attention to a people speak about food and cooking, it is the Italians who, um, take the cake.
I have listened to a group of six Italians—all men—converse with each other for more than an hour about whether polenta is best as a freestanding meal or prepared as a leftover for the next day’s meals, about whether the great cheese Parmigiano-Reggiano is more properly eaten grated on other foods or eaten whole, after a meal chunked into small bites, and about which type of rice to use for which sort of rice preparation—risotto, cool rice salad, soup.
It’s said that Italians (especially Italian men) talk about three things only: what they ate at their last meal, what they are eating now, and what they will eat next.
So many Italian proverbs pass down wisdom in the form of food-talk. “A tavola no si invecchia.” (“You don’t get old at the table,” meaning that eating and drinking at the table is life at its finest, so slow down and enjoy it, everything you need in life is right there.) “La cucina piccola fa la casa grande.” (“The small kitchen makes the house big,” meaning that the kitchen and what comes from it is the true center and foundation of the home and family.)
Italian food sayings are legion and use everything in the pantry to talk about everything in life. A good example is “Tutto fa brodo.” (“Everything makes soup,” or the little things are important too.)
Because the Italian culture is so centered on foodways of all forms—growing and shopping for only the best, preparing food carefully and lovingly, dining at table with gusto and much conviviality—it’s no surprise that eat-speak even describes Italian history or politics.
One of my favorite Italian food proverbs illustrates the pain of a centuries-old system of agriculture that did not die out until well after the Second World War. It was called the “mezzadria” and refers to the feudal-like manner by which many farmers and peasants, especially those in central and southern Italy, rendered half of that which they raised or produced back to the landowner, as a form of rent.
Peasant farmers were poor and decisions about what to eat scraped the bottoms of many a figurative barrel, because eating something often deducted from what could go toward payment of rent.
This saying tells that story: “Quando il contadino mangia un pollo o il contadino è malado o il pollo.” (“Whenever a peasant eats a chicken, either the peasant is sick or the chicken is.”)
A serving of Risotto Verde (“Green Risotto”).
RECIPE: Risotto Verde
Serves 6-8
Ingredients
2 cups risotto rice (Arborio, Vialone Nero, Carnaroli, etc.)
6 cups chicken broth (vegetarians and vegans, use vegetable broth)
4 cups firmly packed greens and herbs (any mix that you fancy, but more leafy greens than herbs; see note)
3 garlic cloves, peeled
3 tablespoons fat (depending on your diet, either unsalted butter or vegetable oil)
4 tablespoons leek, light green part, finely chopped
1 cup white wine or ginger ale or apple juice
1 12-13 ounce package frozen green peas
2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
1 cup finely shredded Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese
Salt and pepper, to taste
Finely sliced or peeled lemon rind and chopped flat-leaf parsley, for garnish
Directions
Assemble 2-3 large bowls side by side, along with a sieve or fine-mesh strainer. Pour all the broth into one of the bowls and rinse the rice with your fingers for 5-6 minutes, until the liquid gets very cloudy. Using the straining implement, drain the rice from the liquid, but also capture the liquid. It is very important not to discard the broth, while also allowing the rice to drain well.
Make a slurry of the cloudy broth, the greens, and the garlic, using a traditional or immersion blender or a processor, being sure that the greens are very well puréed. Heat the green broth in a saucepan until it is quite warm but neither boiling nor simmering and keep it that way.
Over medium-high heat, in a large and open, heavy-bottomed pot, cook the leeks in the fat for 5 minutes, until they have melted a bit. Add the rinsed rice and stir well to coat as many grains of rice with the fat as possible, 5-6 minutes. When the rice begins to smell slightly nutty, add the wine (or ginger ale or apple juice) and stir well until the rice has taken it in, 4-5 minutes.
Add 4 cups of the heated broth, stir it in well, bring the pot to a slow boil, cover and then set the heat to as low as it goes. Cook for 10 minutes, undisturbed. Remove the cover, add the rest of the broth and the peas, stir again well, bring up the heat until the risotto bubbles once more, cover, lower the heat to very low, and cook for another 10 minutes.
Remove the pan from the heat and stir in the grated cheese, salt and pepper to taste (the cheese and broth may have carried in enough salt), and the lemon juice.
Serve garnished with the lemon rind and parsley.
Note on the greens: For the mix of greens, these proportions will work: 3 cups 50/50 blend of baby arugula and baby spinach (widely available) or 3 cups baby spinach, plus 1 cup mixed green herbs such as basil, parsley leaves, dill, chives, chervil, and (if used, less than the others) tarragon.