“the lovely and most gracious Signora Adele [who] wishes me to tell you how to make”
sformato della Signora Adele
(Signora Adele’s Gruyère Mold; recipe 346)? 107 And are such epithets as “charming,” 11lovely,” and “most gracious” reason enough to believe, as someone has suggested, at least in the case of la Rondinella, an actual, and perhaps food-related, love affair?
What he did not learn from his paramours or his friends and their wives, Artusi drew from anonymous or vaguely identified sources (such as the family from Santa Maria Capua Vetere who gave him the recipe for
maccheroni alia napoletana
(macaroni Neapolitan style I; recipe 85) or borrowed from the chefs, the innkeepers, the
maîtres d’bôtel
with whom he became acquainted at the many prestigious eateries and spas he could easily afford to frequent. He also lent a favourable ear to his correspondents, housewives and housekeepers who, upon buying
Scienza in cucina
, would write the author with variations and/or suggestions of their own. A diligent interlocutor, Artusi never forgets to acknowledge the contributions of his readers, unless of course the adopted recipe has been substantially altered. Such is the case of
rossi d’uovo al canapè
(egg-yolk canapés; recipe 142), which offers Artusi one more opportunity to rail against “stupid and often ridiculous names,” but not to thank Adelina Galasso from Breganze, in the county of Vicenza, from whom he may have received the original input. 108
There are two basic culinary traditions that find, a home in Artusi’s book: the then unpopular and now highly fashionable simple cooking of the
contadini
, and the complex cooking of courtly chefs smartly adapted to modern needs and tastes. In both cases he was ahead of his time: the pains he took to rehabilitate country-style cooking paved the way to its current widespread acceptance as a sign of sapience and refinement. He also brought together the culinary tradition prevailing in his native Emilia-Romagna with the dishes he learned to appreciate in Florence, where he pitched his tent for the longest time.
The people of Romagna use butter and animal fat for frying and are partial to pasta dishes and meats, reflecting a tradition that has Celtic origins. Tuscans, on the other hand, use oil for frying and favor soups and vegetables, preferences considered “quintessentially Mediterranean,” as we have fallen into the somewhat mysterious habit of saying. The alloy Artusi created from the two formative elements of Italian culture – the unbridled energy of the Gothic and the delicate “design” of the Renaissance – was unprecedented. Romagna and Tuscany are adjoining regions. Forlimpopoli and Florence are fewer than a hundred miles apart, and the portion of the Appenine range separating them is not particularly impervious. Yet their basic gastronomic (as well as phonetic) physiognomies diverge significantly. No one was more conscious of the divergence than Artusi himself, who felt the need to alert anyone interested in his
minestra di due colori
(two-color soup; recipe 31) that “this is a light and delicate soup which in Tuscany is most likely to be appreciated by the ladies. However, it should not be served in Romagna, that homeland of tagliatelle, where softness to the bite is not to the locals’ taste. Even less would they appreciate the pasty texture of tapioca, the very sight of which would, with few exceptions, turn their stomachs.” 109
Whichever way you slice it, one conviction remains intact in Artusi’s pages from beginning to end. He creates his recipes for those who can afford them, those who have the means not just of feeding themselves, but of doing so pleasantly and, above all, intelligently. He does not believe in wasting money (he was a banker, after all) and instructs his readers to be frugal (not stingy). By the same token, heaffirms, in no uncertain terms, that top-quality ingredients and produce are to be obtained or
sformato della Signora Adele
(Signora Adele’s Gruyère Mold; recipe 346)? 107 And are such epithets as “charming,” 11lovely,” and “most gracious” reason enough to believe, as someone has suggested, at least in the case of la Rondinella, an actual, and perhaps food-related, love affair?
What he did not learn from his paramours or his friends and their wives, Artusi drew from anonymous or vaguely identified sources (such as the family from Santa Maria Capua Vetere who gave him the recipe for
maccheroni alia napoletana
(macaroni Neapolitan style I; recipe 85) or borrowed from the chefs, the innkeepers, the
maîtres d’bôtel
with whom he became acquainted at the many prestigious eateries and spas he could easily afford to frequent. He also lent a favourable ear to his correspondents, housewives and housekeepers who, upon buying
Scienza in cucina
, would write the author with variations and/or suggestions of their own. A diligent interlocutor, Artusi never forgets to acknowledge the contributions of his readers, unless of course the adopted recipe has been substantially altered. Such is the case of
rossi d’uovo al canapè
(egg-yolk canapés; recipe 142), which offers Artusi one more opportunity to rail against “stupid and often ridiculous names,” but not to thank Adelina Galasso from Breganze, in the county of Vicenza, from whom he may have received the original input. 108
There are two basic culinary traditions that find, a home in Artusi’s book: the then unpopular and now highly fashionable simple cooking of the
contadini
, and the complex cooking of courtly chefs smartly adapted to modern needs and tastes. In both cases he was ahead of his time: the pains he took to rehabilitate country-style cooking paved the way to its current widespread acceptance as a sign of sapience and refinement. He also brought together the culinary tradition prevailing in his native Emilia-Romagna with the dishes he learned to appreciate in Florence, where he pitched his tent for the longest time.
The people of Romagna use butter and animal fat for frying and are partial to pasta dishes and meats, reflecting a tradition that has Celtic origins. Tuscans, on the other hand, use oil for frying and favor soups and vegetables, preferences considered “quintessentially Mediterranean,” as we have fallen into the somewhat mysterious habit of saying. The alloy Artusi created from the two formative elements of Italian culture – the unbridled energy of the Gothic and the delicate “design” of the Renaissance – was unprecedented. Romagna and Tuscany are adjoining regions. Forlimpopoli and Florence are fewer than a hundred miles apart, and the portion of the Appenine range separating them is not particularly impervious. Yet their basic gastronomic (as well as phonetic) physiognomies diverge significantly. No one was more conscious of the divergence than Artusi himself, who felt the need to alert anyone interested in his
minestra di due colori
(two-color soup; recipe 31) that “this is a light and delicate soup which in Tuscany is most likely to be appreciated by the ladies. However, it should not be served in Romagna, that homeland of tagliatelle, where softness to the bite is not to the locals’ taste. Even less would they appreciate the pasty texture of tapioca, the very sight of which would, with few exceptions, turn their stomachs.” 109
Whichever way you slice it, one conviction remains intact in Artusi’s pages from beginning to end. He creates his recipes for those who can afford them, those who have the means not just of feeding themselves, but of doing so pleasantly and, above all, intelligently. He does not believe in wasting money (he was a banker, after all) and instructs his readers to be frugal (not stingy). By the same token, heaffirms, in no uncertain terms, that top-quality ingredients and produce are to be obtained or
Similar Books
