Rituals with friends

Another Thanksgiving came and went. You gotta love the ritual of it all -- same turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, side dishes, pumpkin and apple pie all washed down with a glass of Novello.

The conversation went to another Thanksgiving and my subsequent blog entry about the democracy of pot luck. This year, Peter -- our host and turkey carver in the photo below -- had to take a back seat to the guests of honor. After many years, we were finally joined by the Italian restaurant owners who actually cook the beast! Our gratitude to their curiosity to prepare to perfection such an exotic dish!
So, here is the post again. Enjoy.

CLICK HERE for Thanksgivings gone and those to come -- shared with expat friends.

Patrons and protectors

The Madonna del Terzito is a special figure for the inhabitants of Salina and her special day is July 23, complete with mass, fair, procession, band and fireworks. We were there, at her sanctuary in Valdichiesa, Salina for the celebration.

In 500 A.c., a Byzantine monk built an oratory on this site. A couple of hundred years later it was replaced by a temple that was consecrated by the Archbishop of Lipari just before one invasion after another washed through the islands leaving destruction in their wake (as often happened in Sicily in those days). But fate had it that on July 23, 1622, a young Shepard by the name of Alfonso Mercorella heard a mysterious bell ring three times and, enchanted by the sound, searched for its origin and instead found the ruins of an ancient temple.

Today it is a sanctuary dedicated to the Madonna del Terzito (Terzito for the three bell rings) and every year on July 23 there is a celebration to honor the town's patron saint. She wears a vest covered with jewelry donated by the local faithful and in her hand she holds a small bell. Her face is quite lovely as she pensively looks out over her followers.

"Oh yes", you are thinking, "these things take place all over rural Italy." True. But they are often performed more for the tourists than the locals. Our host, a retired bank director, has been vacationing on the island for nearly 30 years and adamantly confirms the population's true devotion to the Madonna del Terzito and the importance of this day. He even feels personally grateful to her after surviving a difficult run with cancer while his villa was being completed. In her honor, he named his new home "Il Terzitella" and never misses the annual procession.

So we followed along. The women, men and children were dressed up for the occasion. The band played. The strong local workmen lifted the figure high and carried her down the road and back up again. The mayor was there, the Archbishop from Lipari and all the local politicians and priests. All shops and activities were closed.



This island saw massive emigration in the late 1800s and again after WWI, mainly to Australia, and today there are celebrations to honor the Madonna del Terzito in Sydney and Melbourne. There is even a painting of her in a church in New Guinea brought over by a missionary. Wherever in the world they live, the people of Salina still ask her for protection and pay her homage in exchange.


The role of patrons and the need for protection from above is an integral part of Catholic culture, beginning with patron saints (also for individuals through their onomastico name) and continuing beyond its religious confines. Protectors and patrons, therefore, also play a role in politics, university and the workplace as Catholic culture reaches into all aspects of Italian life.

Is the insistent presence of university and hospital "baroni", the army of "raccomandati" and the indecipherable workings of Italian political parties a natural progression from the worship of patron saints?

a domani,
E

Drinking codes

A friend sent this NY Times article on Rome’s new kind of tourist – the “lets have a party and throw it in Europe” variety that travel from country to country in a drunken slur and call it a “European adventure”. Rome used to be off the circuit, attracting those inclined to share a bottle of wine with friends and a large plate of pasta instead of slugging down endless beers and shots in Campo de’Fiori. Not that this behavior is unusual in other European and American cities, but it is new here, and not very welcome by local residents. Until really quite recently, Roman youth didn’t do the drinking thing. A beer (or coke) with pizza, piazza and a whirl on the motorino provided nightlife.

Not to be nostalgic, but the change is jarring, especially since it is being forced on Italian youth by the barbaric hoards that have descended on the city (including approx. 7,000 American study abroad students that pass through over the year) and the mass media. Until now, Italians have stood on the sidelines, watching the spectacle, but not joining in. That too will change.

In connection with a course I taught a few years ago for a study abroad program on, “Contemporary Italian Society”, one student did a final paper on the differences in drinking cultures between US and Italian youth. She interviewed students, talked to local pubs, performed ethnological sightings on the weekends and concluded that the different approach to drinking was fundamentally an outgrowth of the bella figura -- that intrinsic Italian need to always act in good taste, to put forward one’s best as a way of showing respect to others, to maintain aesthetic standards at all times. She found this explanation amazing and profound.

I also think she moved one step down the road of cross-cultural understanding. I wonder if she put some of that knowledge into her suitcase when she returned home?

A domani,
E

School's out

School was scheduled to finish on Saturday June 9. Then, a few days ago the principal announced that it would close instead on Friday the 8th. My son's class had a last history test yesterday and a few students from his class were expecting to be "interrogated" one last time in philosophy tomorrow. He was worried instead about a last surprise interrogation in science and history, for which he had planned to study this afternoon.

But instead, at about 12:30, the teachers received an announcement from the office that the school would be closing today. No last minute interrogations. No time to get organized for a party in the piazza. No time for good-bye's and such. The bell rang and the year was over. How is that for a different time orientation! One day more or less, whatever. The year had been long enough in any case. Let's be flexible.

My son said it was strange, not having a soft landing to the year, and the teachers were disturbed about not fininshing off their last testing. Some students will have final grades based on fewer individual grades than others. Now is that "fair"? Doesn't bother him -- a different sense of classroom competition.

I assume President Bush's arrival has something to do with this early closing as the school is in a central location and the police will have other things to worry about tomorrow than wild students getting out for the summer.

They got that today instead -- flour, eggs, tomatoes and more flew in the piazza and my son went straight into the shower when he got home. It is a kind of ritual, I just wouldn't want to have my car parked in that piazza today!

Happy summer.
a lunedi,
E

Rites of passage

It has been a week marked by rites of passage: my son’s 18th birthday and party, a Italian Jewish wedding and a university graduation party. All a bit different in practice and in meaning.

My younger son turned 18. He and a friend from his class (girl), whose birthday fell just a day earlier, asked to throw a joint party and the parents all agreed. So we rented a club, a DJ, ordered food and drinks and two cakes. The kids put together an invitation list of 130, decided on a 1960s theme and made slick 1960s style invitations. It was a big success and a formal rite of passage. We wish them well!

No school prom at 18 and the social events of this important year are the birthday parties that serve as “coming out into society” rites. The invitation announces “abito scuro” – a dark suit and tie for the boys and evening dress for the girls and everyone took the deeper meaning of the party to heart – a send off from youth into adulthood.
The 1960s theme was a success too – check out these girls!


Notice the bottles in the picture? Yes, they had a brindisi or toast with the cake.

The Italian Jewish wedding was also a bit different with its Italian Jewish rituals. It was a privilege to be invited as an outsider as the Roman Jewish community is quite closed and conservative. The women had to sit apart from the men so I was alone as I watched the lovely ceremony. The couple was surrounded and physically protected by their respective families during the ceremony which emphasized the role of family in their future life together. We wish the couple well!

A friend’s daughter passed her thesis in front of a commission with 110 e lode – the highest recognition -- and she had a party to celebrate. The difference being that the party was at home, where she lives and has lived for her years of university study and where she will stay while continuing a graduate degree. So the party was inter-generational, her childhood and university friends, relatives and parent’s friends all toasting her success. She was beaming and happy and we wish her well too!

A domani,
E

Happy hour

I took my son to volleyball practice today on the other side of town, and there just wasn't enough time to go home and get back by 8:00. So I headed to the auditorium instead, Rome's newest wonder by architect Renzo Piano, where I sat at a very chic bar with an ice tea and concentrated on my "Italian composition". When I looked back up, the tables were occupied with....happy hour. WHAT! yes, happy hour has conquered Rome.
But with a difference. Food accompanies the booze. After 6:30, for 10 euros, you can get a drink with a plate of buffet food - not just chips and peanuts, real food, pasta and rice salads, little shrimps, sandwiches and such. It's not called "supper", although that is what it is for those off to a concert, but an "aperativo", thereby circumventing the "non si fa" rule about never putting all of your food on one plate, which is ok for an aperativo but not for a meal -- marketing genius.


Eating and drinking still go hand in hand. They haven't been separated into eating and then going out with friends to drink (at a bar) or drinking (happy hour) and then going on to eat.

THe question is, will we learn from them or will they (unfortunately) learn from us......see you in 10 years!

a domani,
E

Pot luck

I have been working on an article about book clubs in Rome for a local magazine and in my research I came across a few book clubs that finish their monthly discussion with a “pot luck” meal. I even went to a book club meeting a few weeks ago with a pot luck supper and thoroughly enjoyed the anarchy of the eclectic spread on the kitchen counter. It felt slightly naughty, not eating things in the proper order, or better, there not even being an order to eat them in – the joy of pot luck.

Last Saturday I went to hear a friend who sings with a choir that was performing a couple of Baroque oratories, accompanied by original instruments. The church was packed and while sitting on the steps to a side altar, I overheard two 30-something Italians discussing their version of a pot luck dinner for the next evening. While everyone was bringing something, the menu had been orchestrated and its parts carefully assigned, nothing being left to serendipity. The woman carefully and intently itemized the list while her partner listened with attention, analyzing the situation and seeing where he could jump in for a solo part – ahha! He got it, some appetizers. His mother could even make up some of her famous deep fried vegetables (she had, of course, offered to help out).

No anarchy and eclectic spread on the counter for them, but instead a carefully planned and integrated program for the evening. Shhhhh, the concert is starting, we’ll get back to the desserts later.

A domani,
E

Food Rituals

Conforming to social norms in the realm of the pallet is as essential a part of Italian culture as conforming to the latest fashion dictates and always arriving with the proper gift for every occasion. Keeping to Italian food rituals as to what time of day, week or year you eat or drink this or that, in what order, accompanied by which olive oil and in which setting is never intuitive and, at best, only an acquired skill for Americans living here. We simply did not have Italian mothers and did not grow up with Italian food culture.

Meals for Italian children would be an exhausting exercise for anyone but an Italian mother, starting with breastfeeding and weighing the baby before and after each feeding to be sure that he or she has taken enough. Then comes the vegetable and meat broths with dozens of types of pastina, olive oil and parmigiano, the best sole at the market steamed and carefully de-boned on Fridays for lunch and the best cuts of meat cooked and hand ground along with crushed steamed zucchini. All patiently fed spoon by spoon with the concentration most of us would save for brain surgery. Course by course, meal-by-meal, day-by-day, holiday-by-holiday, season-by-season Italian children are indoctrinated into the rhythms and regimented world of Italian food culture.

The next time, you feel an itch to free up and rebel against food order, timing and combinations of ingredients set in stone, keep in mind that the greatness of Italian cooking was born into and because of this frame. The Great Russian novels were born within the confines of various difficult political systems, as the Great Italian cuisine within the confines of Italian food rules and rituals. In captivity, creativity is unleashed.

A domani, E

The Cappucino Mystery

The end of our lunch arrived along with the waiter, “quanti caffé?” he asked. Julie responded, “Two, one regular and one with milk.” then sighed and whispered across the table, ”I know that I should have just an espresso after lunch, but I am American and I am going to have milk in my coffee whenever I want to.” Ahh Haa – a Cultural Moment!

Italians will tell you that medical science has proven milk to be dangerous when served with or after a meal– it will curdle and impeded the digestive process. Maybe it has to do with Mediterranean genes, but we do not seem to have this difficulty – or worse, we just never noticed it. All those school lunches washed down with red cartons of milk. I now shudder at the thought.

There is something else going on, culturally. As Julie noted above, it is a question of the individual’s right to choice. A strong American cultural value, which makes it very difficult for us to really, intimately accepts all those unwritten Italian “food laws”.

There is a time of day, week and year, a place and an atmosphere in which certain foods are eaten. There are certain breakfast foods, certain mid morning snack foods, certain lunch foods, certain supper foods, and certain seasonal foods. Ice cream in the late afternoon, or after supper from April through October. Cappuccino for breakfast or even as a late morning snack. Always move forward from antipasto to course 1 to course 2 to salad to fruit to coffee. The difference being that all this is instinctive for Italians; it comes naturally as just the way things are. They even order Chinese food as first courses (shrimp fried rice) and second courses (sweet and sour pork). There is no choice involved, no desire to break free and be adventurous, rebel and have that cappuccino after lunch or a second helping of pasta after your meat.

We Americans feel very confined in this regimented world. It does not come naturally to follow rules that invade our personal sphere. We eat what we want to eat, when we want to eat it and in any order we want to eat it. It is our right to personal self-expression. You eat what you want and I eat what I eat. I express myself and my personal place in the world by what I choose to eat.

Personally,” I’ll have an espresso, please”, because sometimes rules develop over centuries out of common sense and good taste.

More on unwritten rules and Italian creativity tomorrow.

A domani. E