Becoming Italian Word by Word

velina

velina

 tissue paper, showgirl on Italian TV

When the first in a series of sex scandals involving Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi broke a few months ago, I puzzled over a word blazoned across the headlines of the Italian papers: velina, which my dictionary defines as “tissue paper.”

“What does tissue paper have to do with Berlusconi and a teenage aspiring model?” I asked a linguist friend in Rome. 

“Tutto,” he said. “Everything.”

Velina is indeed a centuries-old word for very light, soft paper. The word does not derive, as many assume, from vela (veil) but from velin, an antiquated term for vitello, or veal. Velina originally referred to fine calf skin, but somewhere in the 18th century it was transferred to thin paper. Decades ago, in the age of the typewriter, the wispy sheets of onion paper used for carbon copies of letters or documents came to be known in Italian as “veline,” the plural form.   

Under Mussolini's Fascist regime, all-powerful government censors issued directives specifying what newspapers could or could not report. Thin-sheeted copies (veline) went to editors, who had no choice but to follow them; the originals remained in state archives.  After World War II various ministries continued to send light-weight veline, not just to newspapers, but to RAI, the government-sponsored television channel. And editors and producers continued to report the news as the government saw fit.

In the 1980s Berlusconi, an emerging media tycoon, revolutionized Italian television by creating the first private network, Canale (Channel) 5.  One of its most popular programs "Striscia la notizia"—a precursor of sorts of The Daily Show—satirized official news programs by featuring sexy dancers in flimsy outfits who carried veline to the announcers.  They became known as veline, a name now used for all the scantily clad girls (and there are many) who appear regularly on Italian television.

Although many Italians tell me they find the parade of latter-day pin-ups offensive or sexist, the word velina wasn’t viewed as derogatory. Three of the original veline recently appeared on a magazine cover looking like Italy’s answer to  “Charlie’s Angels.” Some families, even entire villages, glowed with pride when a local daughter became a velina on national television.

But now veline—which has become a generic term for sexy models, starlets and showgirls—have been making their way, not just into embarrassing photos with the Prime Minister, but into appointed government posts. Some ask whether the veline (which one friend translates as "Berlusconi’s babes") are giving him a bad name—or is it the other way around?   

Sayings and Expressions

velinesco -- slim and coy
carta velina – tissue paper
 velinismo – “showgirlism,” an Italian social phenomenon popularized by Berlusconi’s TV channels in recent decades

Click below to see veline in motion:

pasta

pasta

a “paste” of flour and water formed into noodles of various shapes and sizes

    Pasta, Italy’s signature food, dates back to a Greek legend.  The muse Talia inspired a man named Macareo to construct a metal container with many tiny holes from which long strings of dough emerged as if by magic. He immediately cooked these maccheroni and served them to some hungry poets. Talia entrusted the secret of this wondrous device to the siren Partenope, who founded the city of Naples in the sixth or seventh century B.C.

    Based on more scientific archaeological research, we know that the early Romans subsisted on a diet of barley porridge and a pasta-like dough mixture called langanum or lagane, which may have been the earliest form of a lasagna noodle.   After disappearing during the Dark Ages, pasta reemerged in an early travelogue written around 1154. 

    An Arabian geographer described the production and drying of thin noodles he called itriyya (an Arabic word that Italians translated into vermicelli, or little worms) in a village in Sicily.  Sailors probably transported this durable food to Genoa and Pisa, where maccheroni and vermicelli appear in personal wills and inventories. These documents clearly refute what Italian culinary custodians consider a preposterous claim—that pasta didn’t arrive in Italy until 1295, when Marco Polo introduced noodles from China.

    Pasta became so popular in Naples that its citizens, once called mangiafoglie (leaf-eaters) for the green vegetables in their diet, gained the nickname of mangiamaccheroni (macaroni-eaters). Street vendors called maccaronari cooked spaghetti on rustic stoves and sold them, seasoned only with grated cheese, by the handful. 

    Engravings and photographs from the late eighteenth century show young Neapolitans dangling the long strands high and dropping il ghiotto cibo—which translates as both the appetizing and the greedy food—into their open mouths.  “The difference between the king and me is that the king eats as much spaghetti as he likes,” an old Neapolitan saying goes, “while I eat as much as I’ve got.”

Sayings and Expressions

“Butta la pasta!” -- one of the phrases you’re most likely to hear as Italians head home for lunch and call on their telefonini to say “throw in the pasta!”

prendersi uno spaghetto -- to have a fright

fare una spaghettata  -– to eat spaghetti with friends (in compagnia)

la spaghettata di mezzanotte –- midnight pasta, shared by friends after a movie, play or party on the beach 

aver le mani in pasta -– to have your hands in pasta, to be in the midst of doing something

essere una buona pasta –- to be a good egg

uomo di pasta frolla -– morally weak man

If you live in the San Francisco area, please join us for a celebration (with wine and delicious appetizers) of Italian food and language:

Thursday, July 30, 6:00 p.m.
A.G. Ferrari Foods
468 Castro Street

San Francisco, CA  
http://www.agferrari.com/
415-255-6590

n3ydw4va6z

 

aceto balsamico

aceto balsamico
balsamic  vinegar

Long before it emerged as a flavoring, balsamo served as a healing balm. Its earliest definition (in 1294) describes it as a “sostanza medicamentosa aromatica estratta dal tronco di molte piante” (an aromatic, medicinal sustance extracted from the trunk of many plants).  Apothecaries sold sciroppo acetoso (vinegary syrup) as a pharmaceutical treatment.

Centuries-old letters in Modena describe a tincture of balsamico reportedly capable of raising the dead.   Having tasted velvety-smooth, luscious 60-year-old balsamic vinegar from Modena, I can attest that a few drops can bring any dish to life.

The making of classic aceto balsamico begins with the production of must (grape juice)  from the white Trebbiano grapes of Modena or Reggio Emilia.  Carefully heated until it turns into a dark brown syrup, the must is mixed with old wine vinegar to start the fermentation process.

Unlike wine, which comes to its fullness in carefully regulated conditions, balsamico gradually matures and develops its flavor in lofts called acetaia that are cold in winter, hot in summer and damp during rainy seasons. In the Renaissance noble families, such as the d’Este of Mantua, owned their own acetaia.

Over the course of at least three years ten gallons of must distills to a couple of pints of vinegar. Italians tell me that eight years of aging is better; twelve better still. Best of all are balsamic vinegars that have fermented for a quarter to a half century--or longer.

In the first stage of fermentation, the sugar in the must turns into alcohol. Then the vinegar bacteria convert the alcohol to vinegar. In the traditional method young balsamic vinegar begins to mature in large barrels made of mulberry wood (gelso). In time it is poured into smaller barrels of cherry (ciliegio) or chestnut (castagno).  The smallest barrels, used for the oldest vinegar, are made of ash (frassino) or oak (rovere).  Artisan producers zealously hide the secret of which ingredients they add at different stages, but commonly used spices include cinnamon, cloves, mace, coriander and licorice.

These days factories produce balsamic vinegar in faster, more efficient ways that vary in quality. The price (high) and size of the bottle (small) are two indicators of a fine balsamic. For the best quality, check for the official declaration “aceto balsamico tradizionale di Modena” or “aceto balsamico tradizionale di Reggio Emilia.”  Only the members of the highly regulated consortiums in these places have the right to display these words on their labels.  

What about the inexpensive varieties in large bottles you can find at the local supermarket? They may be nothing more than wine vinegar gussied up with a few spices and caramel coloring.

Words and Expressions

sott’aceto -- seasoned with vinegar, pickled
acetosità -- acidity, sourness
Fontana dell’acqua acetosa -- a famous fountain in Rome, built upon request of Pope Paolo V in 1619
aceto di vino -- wine vinegar

If you live in the San Francisco area, please join us for a celebration (with wine and delicious appetizers) of Italian food and language:

Thursday, July 30, 6:00 p.m.
A.G. Ferrari Foods
468 Castro Street

San Francisco, CA  
http://www.agferrari.com/
415-255-6590

mozzarella di bufala

mozzarella di bufala

Mozzare means to tear by hand, a crucial step in the process of making mozzarella, one of Italy’s most popular (and most badly imitated) cheeses.  Its name also may come from scamozzata, a southern Italian term meaning “without a shirt,” an apt description of a soft cheese without a dry or hard covering.

True mozzarella di bufala campana comes only from black water buffalos that graze in Campania and certain provinces in Lazio and Apulia. Its history dates back to the 12th century, when the monks of San Lorenzo in Capua in southern Italy offered pilgrims a simple cheese, which they called mozza or provatura, made from the milk of their herd of water buffalo.

The process of producing this fresh cheese hasn’t changed much since. The first step is curdling the milk with rennet, then pouring nearly boiling water over the curds. After draining the product and discarding the whey, cheese-makers knead the mixture by hand, like bakers kneading bread, until it becomes so elastic that threads can be pulled without ripping—a characteristic of all pasta-filata (stretched curd) cheeses.  In a process called mozzatura the cheese is divided into equal portions, which are shaped by hand into large or small balls or braids.

Fresh mozzarella is very perishable, so it’s best to eat mozzarella di giornata (made that day)—which is difficult to find outside of Italy.  The best alternative is mozzarella sealed in a solution of whey brine.   But don’t assume “mozzarella” you find at supermarkets is the real thing.

Most of the “mozzarella” sold in the United States comes from cow’s milk and should be called fior di latte or fiordilatte (milk flower). In Italy you’ll find caciocavallo, another soft cow’s milk cheese, which can be eaten fresh or kept for up to a year.  Provola is made from the mozzarella mixture but then smoked and left to mature for a while. Burrata (buttered) pugliese is a mix of mozzarella di bufala and panna (cream) so rich and milky that an Italian friend describes it as “pure sin.”

The most important letters to look for when buying mozzarella are D.O.P., for Denominazione di Origine Protetta (Protected Designation of Origin), a geographical indication. Under European Union Law this certification ensures that only products genuinely originating in a given region and following traditional production techniques use a specific name. The D.O.P. protects you from bland watery mozzarella--and supports Italy’s small artisan cheese producers. 

Sayings and Expressions

bocconcini di mozzarella -- literally small mouthfuls or bite-size mozzarella balls
uova di bufala -- slightly larger  “buffalo eggs”
mozzarella in carrozza -- mozzarella in a carriage, the best melted cheese sandwich you’ll ever have. Even if you can’t speak Italian, you can follow the steps in the video recipe below to make some:

If you live in the San Francisco area, come enjoy some tasty Italian words, wine and cheese at two readings of LA BELLA LINGUA at my favorite Italian food store, A.G. Ferrari’s:

Thursday, July 23, 6:00 p.m.
A.G. Ferrari Foods
3490 California Street

San Francisco, CA 

415-923-4470


Thursday, July 30, 6:00 p.m.
A.G. Ferrari Foods
468 Castro Street

San Francisco, CA 
http://www.agferrari.com/
415-255-6590

la cucina

la cucina
cooking, kitchen

I love everything about la cucina italiana, whether you translate it according to a 13th-century definition as the place where food is prepared or according to a 14th-century definition as “l’arte di preparare i cibi” (the art of preparing food).  But what I particularly enjoy is il linguaggio culinario. (the language of cooking).

Italy’s food and language meld together as smoothly as cacio sui maccheroni (cheese on macaroni). Both boast a rich and rollicking history dating back to ancient times. Both vary greatly from region to region, even from village to village.  Both reflect centuries of invasion, assimilation, and conquest. And both can transform daily necessities into vibrant celebrations.

Alta cucina (haute cuisine) descends from la cucina principesca, the refined dishes prepared by the cooks of the nobility. Cucina povera (cooking of the poor or peasant cooking) refers to a now-fashionable mode of Italian cooking that  uses the basic ingredients that were the only things available to i poveri (the poor). Italians’ (and my) favorite cooking is cucina casalinga (home-cooking), which Maria Augusta (above) makes for us every summer.

In cucina (in the kitchen) I like to  read aloud the lilting words for simple culinary techniques such as rosolare (make golden), sbriciolare  (crumble) and sciacquare (rinse). But Italian’s gastronomic words do more than tease or appease the appetite. They spice up daily conversations.

“Cosa bolle in pentola?” (What’s boiling in the pot, or cooking?)  Italians ask when they want to know if something is going on. Gotten yourself into a mess? You’ve made an omelette  (fatto una frittata).  Fed up and can’t take any more? You’re in the fruit (alla frutta).  Have a crush on someone? You’re cooked (cotto).

Italians call a  busybody  who noses into everything prezzemolo (parsley); someone uptight, a baccalà (dried cod);  a silly fool,  a salame (salami); and a bore,  a pizza. They dismiss a story told time and again as fritta e rifritta (fried and refried) and  something that’s all sizzle and no steak as tutto fumo e niente arrosto  (all smoke and no roast). When a speech, book or movie is slapped together in a hodgepodge manner, critics find it as hard to digest as a polpettone (big meat ball).

Cucinare qualcuno  (to cook someone) means treating him as he deserves--cooking his goose, so to speak. But if you’re told to farti i cavoli tuoi, that has nothing to do with making cabbage. This idiom translates as, “Mind your own business.”

Sayings and Expressions

cucina a gas -- gas cooker
cucina economica -- kitchen range
libro di cucina, ricettario -- cook book
cuocere a fuoco lento / a fiamma bassa -- to cook on a slow fire or  low flame
cuocere a fuoco alto / a fiamma alta -- to cook on a high fire or flame
cuocere al microonde -- to microwave
fare qualcuno a polpette or fare polpette di qualcuno  -- to make mincemeat of someone,  beat somebody to pulp.

If you live in the San Francisco area, please come and enjoy some tasty Italian words, wine and cheese at my favorite Italian food store, A.G. Ferrari’s:

Thursday, July 23, 6:00 p.m.
A.G. Ferrari Foods
3490 California Street
San Francisco, CA
415-923-4470

Thursday, July 30, 6:00 p.m.
A.G. Ferrari Foods
468 Castro Street
San Francisco, CA
http://www.agferrari.com/
415-255-6590

This scene  from the 1996 movie Big Night captures the spirit of la cucina italiana:

luna

luna
moon

Every culture, from ancient Babylon to Egypt to Greece,  has been captivated by il potere della luna (the power of the moon).  Even today, forty years after man first walked on its surface, people are still asking the question that Giacomo Leopardi  posed in one of his most famous poems: “Che  fai tu, luna, in ciel, dimmi, che fai?” (What are you doing, moon, in the sky,  tell me, what are you doing?)

Una luna italiana is no ordinary heavenly body. I literally gasped the first time I saw a full moon rise above the terrace of Il Pellicano on the coast of Monte Argentario on the Tuscan coast. In a few dazzling moments  the entire Tyrrhenian sea turned to silver. Locals insist that this is how “Argentario” (from argento for silver) got its name---although official guidebooks trace it to the precious metals mined in the area.

As I watched the riflesso della luna sul mare (reflection of the moon on the sea)--which Engllish more poetically describes as a moon river--I immediately understood why  Michael and Patsy Graham, a dashing British aviator and his glamorous American wife, chose this spot to build Il Pellicano, a true nido d’amore (love nest), in 1965 to recreate the romance of their meeting in Pelican Point, California.

 “I want  to come back here every year,” I said to my husband twenty years ago  when we discovered the hotel, which has since morphed from a rustic inn to a stylish world-class resort. We have indeed returned annually--always timing our  yearly luna di miele (honeymoon) to coincide with una luna piena (a full moon) so we can dance in the chiaro di luna (moonlight).

One summer night on the island of Capri some mariner-friends told us to  meet them at a popular restaurant at precisely 9:35 p.m. When we arrived at the bustling eatery, they escorted us away from the crowded main dining room to a quiet alcove and insisted that Bob and I take the two chairs looking toward the sea.

As if on command, una luna rossa—a red moon—rose majestically from the sea to shine upon the faraglioni, the mammoth rock formations that heave out of the water like relics of a primeval ruin.  (Luna Rossa is also the name of the Italian sailing team that competes in international races such as the America’s Cup.)

In Italian la luna doesn’t appear only at night.  Some folks are  so absentminded or detached from reality  that they seem to vivere nel mondo della luna (live in the world of the moon) while others are in such bad moods that they avere la luna  storta (have the crooked moon). In these hard times more people find themselves struggling to sbarcare il lunario (make ends meet).

An Italian lunatico may be temperamental but isn’t necessarily as wacky as an English lunatic. But do watch out for anyone who fare vedere la luna nel pozzo (makes you see the moon in a well). He’s just stringing you along. And you certainly don’t want to end up doing as the local dogs do: abbaiare alla luna (barking at the moon—or exerting yourself in vain).

Sayings and Expressions:

luna nuova – new moon
faccia di luna piena – full-faced person
luna park – amusement park
essere ancora nel mondo della luna – to be in the world of the moon (not yet born)
lunario – almanac

To listen to  Gianni Togni sing to and about la luna, click below:

il computer italiano

il computer italiano
the Italian computer

    The first time I visited an internet café in Rome, I quickly learned that, despite its  English name, an Italian computer—whether computer da tavolo  (desk-top) or computer portatile (lap-top)—speaks  Italian.

    When I turned on (accendere) il computer, it asked for my nome utente (user name). 
“How do I connect  (connettersi) to the Internet?” I asked the manager (who spoke two languages: Italian and Chinese). After showing me which keys to click (cliccare), he started to dictate a website address:  “Vuvuvu.punto.”   I typed  “vvv.” before realizing that was how Italians say www.  

    When I tried to check e-mail  (controllare la posta), I found myself immersed in a vocabulary lesson in Italian computerese (computer jargon), including:

    posta in arrivo -- inbox
    rubrica - address book
    aiuto – help
    stampa  -- print
    chiudi - close
    rispondi - reply
    invia – send
    invia allegato – send attachment
    inoltra – forward
    elimina, cancella - delete
    salva – save
    cestino -  trash
    cartella – folder
    sposta -  move to..
    svuota la cartella – empty folder
    esci -  log out

    Things got more complicated when I tried to open or close a document  (aprire / chiudere il documento), compose a new message (nuovo messaggio) or simply  find the essential @ key (called chiocciola for the snail it resembles).  With a bit of doing, I managed to download (scaricare) some stuff and compress (zippare) a file.  I toyed with the idea of creating an Italian pseudonimo (alias) and visiting a stanza della chat (chat room) or forum (discussion board).  Instead I went shopping for Italian DVDs and placed some of my choices in a functional carrello (shopping cart) and others in a far more evocative  pozzo dei desideri (wishing well).

    Then the moment came when I uttered the words I’d hoped never to use:   “Il mio computer non funziona.” (My computer isn’t working). 

    “È bloccato?” (Is it frozen?) the manager asked.

    “È morto!” (It’s dead!) I replied, panicked that all my information was lost (perso), damaged (danneggiato) or deleted (eliminato). 

    He expertly pressed a series of keys and rebooted (riavviare).

    “È risuscitato!“ I exclaimed. “It’s come back to life!”

Sayings and Expressions

computare – compute, calculate, estimate
computista – bookkeeper, accountant
bozza – draft
mail spazzatura or, more politely, posta indesiderata – spam, junk mail
il tasto destro del mouse – the mouse right button