a
Panettone Marietta
among the recipes in
Scienza in cucina
. In the introduction to that recipe (no. 604), Artusi credits her as “a good cook, and such a good-hearted, honest woman that she deserves to have this cake named after her, especially since she taught me how to make it.” Further praises are added at the end: “This panettone is worth trying, because it’s much better than the Milanese-style panettone that’s sold commercially, and isn’t much trouble to make.” 101
This comment brings us back to the issue of provenance. Centuries of exchanges and debates brought about by colliding gastronomic cultures have revealed the symptomatically idealistic nature of the quest and turned it into a “consummation to be wished,” perhaps, but not “devoutly.” At best, it can be gauged in terms of insistence on and/or variation in the selection of ingredients and condiments, and in themanner of amalgamating them in mediocre, plausible, or even excellent dishes. In this respect Artusi is as original as the next person, actually a little more, since he aggressively campaigned in favor of vegetables, upon which the majority of food-minded contemporaries looked with a great deal of suspicion. Take potatoes, for instance, which had been imported into Europe at the end of the sixteenth century, and for which Italian cooks would not find any systematic use until the nineteenth century was well under way. Indeed, it is only after the validation they receive in
Scienza in cucina
, Professor Camporesi informs us, that “
Gnocchi di papata
(potato dumplings) attain full and stable national citizenship.” 102
The same, Camporesi goes on to remark, can be said of tomatoes, which literally counterinvade the Italian peninsula from the south, after Garibaldi’s red-shirted troops “delivered” those regions from the Bourbons and turned them over to the Piedmontese. Tomatoes give “new fleshy texture and flavor to eclectic, anonymous Romantic cuisine, which was largely an offshoot of French cooking, and had doggedly survived the restoration, without any effort at originality. Much more than the potato, the tomato is a new disruptive and revolutionary element in 19th-century Italian cuisine. Long neglected in culinary practice and looked upon with suspicion, it had been relegated, at best, to negligible services.” 103
Artusi can also be called a fighter of gastronomic prejudice, which he finds dietarily unacceptable. He even points out the subtle manifestation of racism inherent in some such prejudices: “Forty years ago,” he writes in his recipe for
petonciani
(eggplant; recipe 399), “one hardly saw eggplant or fennel in the markets of Florence; they were considered to be vile because they were foods eaten by Jews. As in other matters of greater moment, here again the Jews show how they have always had a better nose than the Christians.” 104
Much simpler aetiological questions (where did Artusi get his inspiration, whence did he transcribe the treatments for his full-fledged scripts?) can be answered in a variety of ways. Apart from the recipes he drew from the classic cookery books that, contrary tocommon opinion, did not feature prominently in his not entirely impressive library, 105 he borrowed from friends who shared his gastronomic proclivity and, above all, from their wives.
As late as April 1909, Marchioness Blandina Almerici sends him the recipe for the
ciambelline
(little rings) she had eaten at the Albergo Tre Re di Bologna, the same establishment where Artusi ate his
maccheroni
next to an overly vociferous (according to Artusi, anyway) Felice Orsini (see above, page xxxii). Other feminine presences can be sensed in
Scienza in cucina
, but protected by a veil of anonymity. Who is the “young, charming Bolognese woman known as la Rondinella [the little swallow]” we are invited to thank for having taught Artusi how to make
strichetti alia Bolognese
(strichetti noodles Bolognese style; recipe 51), 106 or
Panettone Marietta
among the recipes in
Scienza in cucina
. In the introduction to that recipe (no. 604), Artusi credits her as “a good cook, and such a good-hearted, honest woman that she deserves to have this cake named after her, especially since she taught me how to make it.” Further praises are added at the end: “This panettone is worth trying, because it’s much better than the Milanese-style panettone that’s sold commercially, and isn’t much trouble to make.” 101
This comment brings us back to the issue of provenance. Centuries of exchanges and debates brought about by colliding gastronomic cultures have revealed the symptomatically idealistic nature of the quest and turned it into a “consummation to be wished,” perhaps, but not “devoutly.” At best, it can be gauged in terms of insistence on and/or variation in the selection of ingredients and condiments, and in themanner of amalgamating them in mediocre, plausible, or even excellent dishes. In this respect Artusi is as original as the next person, actually a little more, since he aggressively campaigned in favor of vegetables, upon which the majority of food-minded contemporaries looked with a great deal of suspicion. Take potatoes, for instance, which had been imported into Europe at the end of the sixteenth century, and for which Italian cooks would not find any systematic use until the nineteenth century was well under way. Indeed, it is only after the validation they receive in
Scienza in cucina
, Professor Camporesi informs us, that “
Gnocchi di papata
(potato dumplings) attain full and stable national citizenship.” 102
The same, Camporesi goes on to remark, can be said of tomatoes, which literally counterinvade the Italian peninsula from the south, after Garibaldi’s red-shirted troops “delivered” those regions from the Bourbons and turned them over to the Piedmontese. Tomatoes give “new fleshy texture and flavor to eclectic, anonymous Romantic cuisine, which was largely an offshoot of French cooking, and had doggedly survived the restoration, without any effort at originality. Much more than the potato, the tomato is a new disruptive and revolutionary element in 19th-century Italian cuisine. Long neglected in culinary practice and looked upon with suspicion, it had been relegated, at best, to negligible services.” 103
Artusi can also be called a fighter of gastronomic prejudice, which he finds dietarily unacceptable. He even points out the subtle manifestation of racism inherent in some such prejudices: “Forty years ago,” he writes in his recipe for
petonciani
(eggplant; recipe 399), “one hardly saw eggplant or fennel in the markets of Florence; they were considered to be vile because they were foods eaten by Jews. As in other matters of greater moment, here again the Jews show how they have always had a better nose than the Christians.” 104
Much simpler aetiological questions (where did Artusi get his inspiration, whence did he transcribe the treatments for his full-fledged scripts?) can be answered in a variety of ways. Apart from the recipes he drew from the classic cookery books that, contrary tocommon opinion, did not feature prominently in his not entirely impressive library, 105 he borrowed from friends who shared his gastronomic proclivity and, above all, from their wives.
As late as April 1909, Marchioness Blandina Almerici sends him the recipe for the
ciambelline
(little rings) she had eaten at the Albergo Tre Re di Bologna, the same establishment where Artusi ate his
maccheroni
next to an overly vociferous (according to Artusi, anyway) Felice Orsini (see above, page xxxii). Other feminine presences can be sensed in
Scienza in cucina
, but protected by a veil of anonymity. Who is the “young, charming Bolognese woman known as la Rondinella [the little swallow]” we are invited to thank for having taught Artusi how to make
strichetti alia Bolognese
(strichetti noodles Bolognese style; recipe 51), 106 or
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