I have no idea if I’ll ever go to Italy & meet GP’s parents and while I’m sure they’re as easy going as he is, the thought is hideously intimidating! As Europeans we are saturated with invisible prejudice without even knowing it. Shite like, the English hate the Germans, no ones too keen on the French but thumbs up all around to the Swiss. Now I live in a part of America where I’m not required to confront my class, upbringing or narrow mindedness, excellent! Instead I get to sit in my bubble surrounded by people who become comatose in the presence of what they consider to be a nice accent. It’s ridiculous really....
When I fantasize of the day that I may meet Dottore & Signora Cammarota the list of pre conceived ideas they will have of me (as I imagine it) is startling. English stereotypes; she can’t cook, she’s not one of us, is she of the right class (?) she wants another glass of wine, must she insist on wearing those union jack knickers at the dinner table and she has freckles....mamma mia! Not to mention the unconventional friendship I have with their son, che palle! That’s a lot of hurdles before I’ve even said “buon giorno”! Not to mention my uninformed opinions of them, dear god no one will be able to hear them selves think because of all that discrimination!
Still in my Makawao hideaway I make (in my invisible friend kinda way) small in roads to their liking me by (of all things) cooking, because god knows it won't be the language! I already measure my success via a secret scale beginning with Giampaolo, does he spit or swallow my food?! It’s like a warped video game, if he swallows then I advance to the next level, but still have to fight off all the dark archaic and sinister demons that surround the higher level of
Tonight in my fantasy of ‘meet the parents’ I advanced a stage with my risotto ai cavolfiori. The good news is it looks like the picture in Jami Olivers example, the bad news is that if ‘i genitori’ had actually tasted it, all their inevitable ‘we told you so’s’ would have come true! Luckily though, I would whip out my handy deck of scopa cards which would so shock and delight them that I’d have them drinking Earl Gray & eating McVities before they could say ‘arrivederci'!
I win-I win!