Food and Language Under Fire in Italy

How do—or should—we define authenticity?

Authentic? Chissà. Da morire? Assolutamente! Photo mine.

Cari amici,

Two articles have been burning up the internet in Italy of late, and both raise the question of authenticity. I’m in a particularly chi se ne frega state of mind these days, so I regard with disinterest all the irate debate (rhyme intended) these stories are generating—but I daresay others (maybe you?) have more forceful opinions. What am I talking about? How real Italian food is, and whether or not the Italian language should be kept pure, officially speaking.

Here are the two articles in question:

“Everything I, an Italian, thought I knew about Italian food is wrong,” with the inflammatory sub-heading “From panettone to tiramisu, many ‘classics’ are in fact recent inventions, as Alberto Grandi has shown,” in the Financial Times,

and

“Italian government seeks to penalize the use of English words,” with this opening line: “Italians who use English and other foreign words in official communications could face fines of up to €100,000 ($108,705) under new legislation introduced by Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni’s Brothers of Italy party.” (CNN)

Since clickbait rules in today’s media, I suppose these stories are designed to get people talking and, more likely, arguing. I, on the other hand, am not really interested in whether Grandi, a professor at the University of Parma, is correct in saying that many Italian dishes commonly called “classics” are in fact not traditional; culinary evolution is nothing new and Italy’s history is millennia-long and, at many points along that spectrum, a story of poverty and deprivation. Many regional cuisines still reflect that cucina povera “eat the whole animal” practice (think bone soup, tripe, and soppressata, a cured meat made from a pig’s head).

But such foods are hardly the whole picture. With prosperity and outside influences, tastes change, and so do the foods we eat. For example, my Italian family’s more-bread-than-cake panettone recipe, handed down from my paternal great-grandmother, bears little resemblance to the round, chef’s-hat-shaped loaves, often with gooey fillings like chocolate or pistachio cream, that can be found everywhere in Italy. Can both be Italian, even authentic? I think so.

As for fines being levied to ensure the purity of Italian—because, according to Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni’s party, the far-right Brothers of Italy, using English words “demeans and mortifies” the Italian language—Fabio Rampelli, the author of the proposed legislation, seems to have forgotten the widespread use of many English words that have no Italian equivalent, like computer and mail (for email). This from a government that proposes “Made in Italy” as a school name. Supposedly Rampelli’s quibble (which includes proper pronunciation) extends only to the use of language in official documents and venues, which is a relief because I’d hate to think I’d be breaking the law by saying fare lo shopping instead of fare le spese. Still, the omnipresent standard (instead of the not-quite-the-same-in-all contexts norma) is a handy word, even in officialdom.

I guess what I’m asking is whether, or how much, any of this matters. We anxious humans have a palpable need to pigeonhole and label and prescribe and dictate, and what does it get us? Tourists aren’t going to stop ordering carbonara and pizza because those dishes might not have been around since Roman Empire times; they’re going to enjoy them and remember them as a fantastic part of their Italian vacation. And do public speakers really need to worry about being fined if they, like tourists, mispronounce bruschetta? (I’ve yet to hear an Italian say “brushetta” instead of “brusketta,” though I suppose someone, somewhere, sometime, might do so.) Will offending words be recorded and the speakers chased down and chastised? Good luck with that. I’m all for pronouncing words correctly, but there are thousands of regional, provincial, and city/town variations in spoken Italian.

What’s all this about? Maybe I’m wrong to pair right-wing legislative absurdities with an attack on Italy’s beloved and iconic cuisine, yet I can’t help thinking both use our deep-seated craving for authenticity as way to generate discord. The history of food in Italy is expansive and complex, and the food itself beloved and defended, which means an interview with a food expert who challenges long-held beliefs is primo clickbait.

I’m not saying Grandi isn’t right, or partially right; I’d have to do some serious studying and hear from at least several experts before I could claim to understand enough to form an opinion. As for the Brothers of Italy’s legislation, the brief article (on the notoriously lightweight CNN) leaves me questioning whether language use is a real concern or a convenient vehicle for grandstanding.

So, let’s look at the bigger question of authenticity. Is the Italian language less authentic/pure if it imports English words from the tech sphere? Let’s flip that scenario—is English less pure because of the myriad words it borrows from other languages, including, natch, pizza? Should American government documents not use words like apropos or quid pro quo? If tiramisu was in fact invented in the 1980s, does that make it less Italian? If pizza changed over time from “discs of dough topped with ingredients,” as Grandi puts it, to the pizza margherita found on every pizzeria’s menu, does that mean today’s pizza isn’t authentic? The margherita was (supposedly) invented in 1889 to honor the then-queen, Margherita di Savoia. How much more authentic could it be? Or is the year 1889 not historic enough to be cool?

To me, this is all much ado about nothing. (Whoops, I’d better watch out—maybe borrowing language from Shakespeare makes my own less authentic.) I’m sure a heavily researched tome on the history and origins of food in Italy would make for interesting reading. But an article that seems designed to ignite tempers isn’t, particularly. (Even worse is CNN’s article about the article. I’ll spare you.)

As for Meloni and her cronies, I think their time and attention would be better spent dealing with matters more crucial to Italy’s future than “Anglomania”—climate change, say, and the preservation of our national healthcare system, and the creation of jobs that will keep young people in their country of birth. A quest for purity, even of language, is too close for comfort, for me, to the kind of rigid ideation that fuels racism, genocide, transphobia, and even misogyny.

Or maybe I’m just cranky. What do you think?

Alla prossima,

Cheryl

© 2023 Cheryl A. Ossola

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Books of the week:

• La Cucina: The Regional Cooking of Italy by The Italian Academy of Cuisine

• A Kitchen with a View by Letizia Mattiacci

• Italy and Its Discontents: Family, Civil Society, State 1980–2001 by Paul Ginsborg

Poems of the week (let’s go with a whole collection, this one chosen for no reason other than that I’m binge-rewatching Mad Men):

• Meditations in an Emergency by Frank O’Hara