briciole

fare la spesa (seconda puntata)

to shop for groceries (part 2)
Some time ago, I wrote a post about shopping at a supermercato (grocery store). I hope you are ready for a few more tidbits.

In the earlier post, I explained how you, the customer (cliente), need to weigh and label fruit and vegetables by yourself. Before you start choosing any fruit or vegetable, you need not only to get a plastic bag, but also to don plastic gloves (guanti). Bags and gloves are usually located close to each other and also close to a bin where you can deposit the used gloves. The only tricky thing here is that the adhesive label with the bar-coded information tends to stick to the glove, so you may have to rescue it before proceeding with your next purchase.

When I was a kid, there was no supermercato and therefore, in order to fare la spesa, something I often did for my mother, especially when I was off from school, I had to visit several stores. Each store can be referred to either by its actual name or by the name of the owner, so we may say vado in panetteria or vado dal panettiere:

• panetteria / panettiere or fornaio (bakery / baker)
• macelleria / macellaio (butcher's shop / butcher)
• negozio di frutta e verdura / fruttivendolo (fruit and vegetable store / greengrocer)
• salumeria / salumiere (deli)  
• pescheria / pescivendolo (fish store / fishmonger)
• pasticceria / pasticciere (pastry shop)

My favorite store to visit is a salumeria, especially when I am in Rome, where it is popularly called a pizzicheria, presided over by a pizzicagnolo. The smell in the store is divine and the arrangement of cheeses and cured meats is a work of art of balance and efficient use of space. When the salumeria is strategically placed next door to a panetteria, you have no way out: get some fresh bread, put some freshly-cut cheese or cured meat, or a mix of both in it, and enjoy your life then and there. When you are done, walk another few feet and get yourself un caffé.

Hear me pronounce the words on the fare la spesa (seconda puntata) audio file [mp3] or go to the fare la spesa (seconda puntata) audio page for more listening options.

mangiare a quattro palmenti

to eat a lot and greedily, to eat like a horse
A little while ago Peter of Detectives Beyond Borders asked me about the original expressions in a passage at the beginning of chapter 7 of "The Smell of the Night," one of Camilleri's Montalbano novels. I promised him I would write about them, e ora mantengo la mia promessa (now I keep my promise).

Peter expressed a desire:

to see the original versions of the sayings that in English became "count your chickens before they hatch," "eat like a horse" and "sow your wild oats" in the scene.

Here they are, in the same order:

• vendere la pelle dell'orso prima di averlo ucciso
• mangiare a quattro palmenti
• correre la cavallina

In the original text the expressions are given in Italian, without any Sicilian influence. Montalbano gets upset at Livia, his eternal fiancée, for using a frase fatta (cliché, idiom) in a conversation and then comes up with the set of three examples listed above. You can read the the translation of the passage here, together with Peter's thoughtful comments.

The literal translation of vendere la pelle dell'orso prima di averlo ucciso is to sell the pelt before killing the bear. The next sentence has to do with food. Palmento is the millstone (however, the Italian word most commonly used in this sense is macina) and the sentence literally means to eat like four millstones. Millstones don't eat, they grind, and in fact an alternative version of the same idiom is macinare a quattro palmenti, to grind like four millstones, i.e., like a mill that has four millstones¹. The idea then is to describe a voracious person that grinds as much food with his/her teeth as four millstones grind wheat. Cavallina is a young mare, but also the (vaulting) horse and the game leapfrog. The Italian dictionary I usually consult associates the idiom to the first meaning. Still, the construct of the sentence sounds unusual. I will tentatively translate it as to run like a young mare (unbridled).

When he first started learning Italian, my husband was intrigued by the apparent love we harbor for the numbers four and two, and he wanted to know why we did not use other numbers in the same way. Non ne ho la piu pallida idea, as my mother would answer: I really don't know. But it is indeed true that there are many Italian idioms that feature the two numbers, sometimes interchangeably. Here are four examples:

• fare quattro passi / fare due passi = to go for a short walk (passo is step)
• fare quattro salti = to go dancing (salto is jump)
• fare quattro chiacchiere / fare due chiacchiere = to chat (chiacchiera in this context is chat)
• fare due gocce = to rain just a little (goccia is drop)

The opposite of fare due gocce is piovere a catinelle, to bucket down (no cats and dogs involved). And speaking of rain, here is an image from my garden after a night of rain.

Hear me pronounce the words and expressions on the mangiare a quattro palmenti audio file [mp3] or go to the mangiare a quattro palmenti audio page for more listening options.

Final note: for an introduction to Salvo Montalbano, you can read this post or, better still, the novels that feature him.

¹ I added this clarification after publication. Apologies to the early readers.

bere un caffè al bar

to drink an espresso at the coffee shop
The store where Italians drink coffee is called a bar. The sign outside one of those establishments may carry additional specifications characterizing it. For example, it could be a bar tabacchi, meaning that it sells cigarettes and stamps. Or a bar pasticceria, meaning that it sells fresh pastries. Or a bar gelateria, which sells gelato. In a bar you can drink coffee beverages, fruit juice, alcoholic beverages and also eat pastries, panini, gelato, etc. (with many possible variations).

Andare al bar a bere un caffè is to go to a coffee shop to drink an espresso. We also say andare al bar a prendere un caffè (to get an espresso). It is a well-known fact that Italians drink espresso and that Italian espresso is excellent. Note that we don't use the word espresso, but if you do, people usually understand what you mean. I have previously written posts that detail the different kinds of coffee and milk beverages that is possible to order in Italy: here, here and here.

While in Italy, you will not be able to replicate your experience of ordering and consuming a coffee beverage in an American coffee shop. In Italy, each beverage comes in a predefined size (an espresso cup or a cappuccino cup) and with a standard type of milk (usually pasteurized whole milk). Concepts like medium, large and non-fat are foreign to us. Decaf is (barely) accepted. You may be able to obtain soy milk in some establishments.

One important aspect of the transaction is the payment and placing of the order. In the U.S., you pay at the cash register and order the beverage of choice, then your order gets transmitted, possibly by computer, to the person in charge of making your drink. After obtaining the drink, you can walk away or sit at a table and consume it on the premises.

In Italy things are not so straightforward, mostly because there are no set rules that everybody follows and there is no computer next to the coffee machine. In most places, and always in the busy ones, you pay at the cash register and obtain the receipt. You then show it to the barista and repeat your order. He or she will usually tear the receipt a bit and give it back to you: do not throw it away. You are then given your beverage and you are supposed to consume it while standing at the counter.

Detail number 1: you are required to keep the receipt for any purchase you made until you are within some distance from the store (bar, restaurant, grocery store, department store, etc.). Outside the store you could be stopped by a policeman, in which case you should show the receipt. Failure to do so could result in a fine.

Detail number 2: you will pay extra if you sit down at a table. If you want to take your time drinking your espresso and maybe have a chat with your companion, you signal it by sitting at a table. A waiter will take your order and deliver it and you will pay before leaving, either at the cash register or to the waiter. Whatever you order, it will cost you more than if you had ordered it at the counter.

Sometimes the barista is also the cashier, in which case he or she will both get your money and prepare your drink. Other times you can order and consume first and then pay before leaving. The variability of arrangements is wide, so the best thing I can do is to alert you of what is possible. If you try to do things in a different order, you will be gently reminded of the correct one, no harm done. So, if you order your beverage before obtaining the receipt, the barista will ask you for it and allow you to obtain it without bad feelings. In some places, a sign asks customer to pay first and consume later.

A few more notes: in Italy we don't walk around drinking coffee, so the concept of 'to go' is quite foreign. Because we do not routinely use disposable coffee cups, we don't see the need to bring our own to reduce waste. We also don't feel compelled to fill containers to the brim. In fact, in some cases, that is a veritable no-no. For example, a shot of espresso will never fill the cup.

In Italy we drink un caffè for the pleasure of tasting an intensely aromatic nectar that leaves behind a heavenly aftertaste. Water makes us suspicious, which is the reason why, when you order tea, you get a minuscule amount of water and no refill. (This is a very personal opinion, which I will hold on to until I find a better explanation.)

One of the things I do soon after arriving in Italy is bere un cappuccino al bar. This time I drank my first one at the Bar Cavour, an old (historical) establishment in Bergamo, a city not far from Milan, which is not known as much as it deserves to be and which I have always loved. In this case, the barista doubled as cashier and the bar was not busy, so we got our beverages and paid for them afterwards.

Hear me pronounce the words and expressions on the bere un caffè al bar audio file [mp3] or go to the bere un caffè al bar audio page for more listening options.

fare la spesa

to shop for groceries
Although the Italian sentence does not include any reference to food, it is used to indicate the purchase of food items. To go grocery shopping is: andare a fare la spesa.

One of the first things I do after arriving in Italy is to find a supermercato (grocery store) and shop for specific food items, most importantly:

• prosciutto crudo (for my husband)
• ricotta di mucca (ricotta made with cow milk whey, for myself).

I will not bore you with more details regarding my shopping list (la lista della spesa). Instead, I will describe a few characteristics of the way Italians, at least in Milan (where I lived for almost 10 years before moving to California and where I am right now) shop in a supermercato, which may be a bit puzzling for an American visitor.

First of all, you need a coin to release the lock that chains each shopping cart (il carrello) to its neighbor. The coin is only a deposit, and you will get a full refund before you leave the store, provided you return the cart to the appropriate place and lock it.

When you buy lose fruit and vegetables, you need to weigh them yourself and print the label with the price: the cashier will not be able to do this for you. Each item is marked with a number and, by pressing the relevant button on the scales, you print the label that needs to be attached to the bag containing the purchased items.

When you are done filling your cart with goodies, you need to bag them yourself, possibly keeping up with the cashier, so that by the time he or she is done scanning, you are almost done bagging. Failure to keep up may be rewarded with stern looks on the part of the people in line behind you.

What I consider the most difficult part of the supermercato experience is the bargaining about coins (monete) that occurs with the cashier. From time immemorial, in Italy we have a dearth of coins, a situation that the advent of the euro seems to have left uncured and possibly made worse, considering that certain amounts of money that once were lira banknotes (banconote) are now euro coins. As a result, you are almost always asked whether you have some coins (ha della moneta?) which will make the change include only banknotes or a smaller number of coins. For example, if your total charge is €16.30, and you pay with a €20 banknote, the cashier will probably ask you whether you can produce €1.30 in coins, so that he or she can complete the transaction by handing you a €5 banknote. If you don't have €1.30, but do have €0.30, you are still good, since that amount will require a change made up of only two €2 coins, versus the four coins needed to make up €3.70. I am so used to this way of adjusting payments that I tend to apply the same reasoning when I am in the US, often to the grave consternation of the cashier, who has the change automatically calculated by the cash register and plenty of coins to handle it without any special provisions on my part.

I hope I have not scared you with my tales of the supermercato. I actually strongly recommend you find a nice one and take the time to explore it: it will be an interesting visit, from both a culinary and a sociological perspective.

Addendum: here is another post on the same topic.

Hear me pronounce the words and expressions on the fare la spesa audio file [mp3] or go to the fare la spesa audio page for more listening options.

friggere

to fry
Every now and then I have visions of some fried food my mother used to make. However, here I will focus on some words that may be useful when navigating Italian menus and also on some funny expressions.

If you fry something (nell'olio o nel burro, in oil or butter), it becomes fritto or fritta, depending on whether it is masculine or feminine, or fritti or fritte, if that something is plural. Here are some tasty examples:

• pesce fritto (fried fish)
• fritto misto (a combination of various fried items)
• salvia fritta (fried sage)
• fiori di zucca fritti (fried zucchini blossoms)
• patatine fritte (French fries)

Some items (like fiori di zucca) are dipped in batter before being fried and we call the batter pastella. A Wiener Schnitzel (cotoletta alla milanese) is breaded before being fried: it is impanata.

My three favorite fried foods are:

• supplì al telefono (typical of Rome, these croquettes are made with risotto seasoned with tomato and meat sauce, and they have a heart of mozzarella; they are breaded and fried and are eaten hot, so that when you take a bite, the piece in your mouth and the one still in your hands are joined via a thread of mozzarella)
• crocchette di patate (potato croquettes, which are rolled into flour, instead of breadcrumbs, before being fried; they are also eaten hot)
• fiori di zucca fritti.

One of the first Italian expressions I taught my husband is: sono fritto (literally, I am fried). Essere fritto means to be done for. We call empty words aria fritta (fried air). Una cosa fritta e rifritta is an old story, old news. I hope this post is not all old news for the readers.

Hear me pronounce the words and expressions on the friggere audio file [mp3] or go to the friggere audio page for more listening options.

far venire l'acquolina in bocca

to make someone's mouth water
If the sight, smell of thought of a certain food mi fa venire l'acquolina in bocca then, as a result ho l'acquolina in bocca (my mouth is watering). Both expressions are of widespread use in Italy. I have always found the word acquolina (which literally is is a diminutive of acqua, water) particularly charming: it dances in my mouth like a tasty morsel.

Avere l'acquolina in bocca should not be confused with acqua in bocca!, which is an injunction to keep something a secret. The idea is that if your mouth is full of water, you cannot talk. I taught my American husband to both say and act acqua in bocca! In fact, as a kid, after saying to someone acqua in bocca!, I would inflate my cheeks and purse my lips slightly, simulating a mouth full of water. I am no longer a kid, but I still get to do it with my husband and then we both burst into laughter (scoppiamo a ridere).

[This post was inspired by Valli, who used the adjective droolworthy in a comment on a post and got me thinking of Italian acquolina.]

Hear me pronounce the expressions on the acquolina in bocca audio file [mp3] or go to the acquolina in bocca audio page for more listening options.

pollo arrosto

roast chicken
Talking about Sunday lunch (pranzo) in my previous post made me think of another dish that was only featured in that meal: pollo arrosto. We would buy it at a store, una rosticceria, actually 'the' store, because we had one favorite place. I am not sure whether it is still in business, but I hope it is.

As a child, I loved going with my father to the rotisserie to get the roast chicken: I loved the smell of the place and the look of the food that was made and sold there. I usually got to carry the warm bag with the chicken and would bask in the heady smell that came from it. I alternated between eating the breast (il petto) and the thigh (la coscia). I remember the taste of rosemary and the crispness of the skin. To this day, smelling rosemary reminds me of the pollo arrosto from my childhood.

If a person is a pollo, he or she is a simpleton, someone easily taken in. Something or someone that fa ridere i polli (literally: makes chickens laugh) is ridiculous, or acts in a ridiculous way. When I am able to predict exactly what my husband will do, he always asks me: "How did you know?" to which I answer: "Conosco i miei polli." Literally it translates: "I know my chickens" and it means that I am familiar with their ways, so I can predict what they will do.

Hear me pronounce the words and expressions on the pollo arrosto audio file [mp3] or go to the pollo arrosto audio page for more listening options.

prendere qualcuno per la gola

The literal meaning of this expression is to put one's hands around someone's throat, typically in an attempt to throttle them. In both Italian and English the expression is also used figuratively, so that no strangling actually takes place.

In Italian, however, the expression is commonly used to describe a gourmet endeavor: to tempt someone by offering him or her delicious food.

The temptation can be as innocent as make someone stray from a diet or eat more than necessary, but it can also have a more romantic objective, when the perpetrator exploits his or her culinary skills to win the heart of the person with whom s/he has fallen in love.

[This post was inspired by Lisa's review of a book called The Food of Love, whose Cyrano-like protagonist cooks to conquer.]

Hear me pronounce the expression on the prendere qualcuno per la gola audio file [mp3] or go to the prendere qualcuno per la gola audio page for more listening options.

mangiare i confetti

1. To eat comfits
   The sugar coating is rather hard, so most people let it slowly dissolve in their mouth, then crunch the almond. If the heart of the confetto is made of chocolate, the dissolving process can proceed seamlessly from coating to coated delicacy. Some people prefer to crunch the confetto as soon as it lands in their mouth, an acceptable option that is harder on the teeth and makes a distinctive noise.
2. To celebrate a wedding
   (in the sense of going to someone's wedding party, not of performing the wedding ceremony) Giving confetti to wedding invitees is such a strong tradition that the act of eating them has become synonymous with participating to the wedding festivities. Asking someone who is engaged to be married quando mangiamo i confetti? (when are we going to eat comfit?) is equivalent to asking whether the wedding date has been set and what that date is.

[This post is dedicated to Jann.]

Hear me pronounce the expressions on the mangiare i confetti audio file [mp3] or go to the mangiare i confetti audio page for more listening options.

bricia

fragment
A rarely used noun that derived from the vulgar Latin verb brisare, to break. The dialectal version brisa is used in parts of northern Italy and I love the way the word sounds.

Briciola (plural briciole) is a diminutive form of bricia and it is commonly used.

Briciole usually refers to breadcrumbs, but also to other crumbled items, and even to intangible things, like happiness (una briciola di felicità).

Crumbles of butter, flour, fine polenta, sugar and ground almonds make a cake typical of Mantua, called sbrisolona. It is different from a typical crumble, because there is no fruit layer underneath the crunchy crumbles.

[This post is dedicated to Jeff, who noticed I had not explained the name of my blog.]

Hear me pronounce the words on the bricia audio file [mp3] or go to the bricia audio page for more listening options.