History of Italian and Indian cuisine as told by Mugi
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Meatballs do exist in Italy. Just not common to find them in a restaurant. I’ve had a “polpetone” in a very authentic roman restaurant when I lived there. It translates to large meatball but is the equivalent to an American meatloaf in shape, it’s sliced and served with sauce.
Meatballs originated for poor people to have an affordable dish of meat by mixing it with bread crumbs abs other things. The spaghetti meatball combination is unheard of in Italy.
Meatballs originated for poor people to have an affordable dish of meat by mixing it with bread crumbs abs other things. The spaghetti meatball combination is unheard of in Italy.
If no meatballs, then you might make do with "braciola." Possibly the grandfather of meatballs. If fresh and done right, "braciola" could satisfy your meatball craving, but a little more complex and more chewing involved. But, when tied with a string and allowed to simmer in the gravy for a long time, the thinly rolled spiced beef becomes extremely tender.
No. I mean there are many variations.
But, the way that I grew up eating it, mostly on Christmas, was made with very thin beef flank steaks, pounded well to make them super tender, and actually pounded with prosciutto and then rolled, stuffed and tucked in, held together with a toothpick or a piece of culinary string or twine, with a mixture of cheese, seasoned breadcrumbs, fresh herbs, pine nuts, (other) and lightly browned, sauteed in olive oil, and then simmered in the tomato sauce gravy for about two hours, adding flavor to the sauce to be poured on the pasta. The meat is super tender and flaky, barely being held together and almost melts in your mouth if done correctly.
Variations are with fish, squid, pork, veal, but in my house it was always beef. I never had horse meat, nor horse milk like in Mongolia.
But, the way that I grew up eating it, mostly on Christmas, was made with very thin beef flank steaks, pounded well to make them super tender, and actually pounded with prosciutto and then rolled, stuffed and tucked in, held together with a toothpick or a piece of culinary string or twine, with a mixture of cheese, seasoned breadcrumbs, fresh herbs, pine nuts, (other) and lightly browned, sauteed in olive oil, and then simmered in the tomato sauce gravy for about two hours, adding flavor to the sauce to be poured on the pasta. The meat is super tender and flaky, barely being held together and almost melts in your mouth if done correctly.
Variations are with fish, squid, pork, veal, but in my house it was always beef. I never had horse meat, nor horse milk like in Mongolia.
In America, high quality ingredients are becoming more and more rare with mass-production, industrialization, and importation. (all the farms became malls, condos and golf courses) In Italy, local farms and villiages still predominate in rural areas. The food preparation is very leisurely and oftentimes ingredients are wild and foraged and almost always garnered from a radius within a few miles of preparation.
It may sound like it does not matter. But, if you think about the alternative of food preparation in America, an onion coming from a farm in Mexico, garlic from a farm in China, tomatoes from a glass hot house in New Jersey, Costco olive oil, sitting in a gallon plastic jug for who knows how long, (in Italy, Italian local olive oil, virgin pressed and stored in wood, tapped and drizzled on sour dough local wheat bread, baked in an outdoor oven hearth, has such a simple powerful aroma and taste, so delightful, that it is a satisfying meal with a glass of wine) pasta made from enriched bleached white flower, salt from where ever Morton mined and turned it into NACL stripped of all minerals, fish from an antibiotic infused water tank, frozen hormoned beef, pork, chicken, et cetera. (Incidentally, other countries just don't want our beef, chicken, pork, eggs, milk, et cetera. Our government has to make deals with other countries to take it off our hands by enticing them with other valued goods. Some citizens of other countries resent allowing such products into their country but have no power to limit it.)
I mean, granted you purveyed some of your ingredients of top quality, imported from a pure region, but good ingredients are mixed with poor quality ingredients. The result is a mish-mash of ingredients having no local relationship to you. But, the chef does his/her best to harmonize his odd-ball cache and create for you an Italian meal fit for a king. At least the creator of the feast infuses his dish with the greatest of all ingredients, his talent and knowledge of cuisine. But, it can never have the aroma and demeanor and taste of the dish's original homeland. But, you hope that the main ingredient is of the finest quality to support a weaker supporting cast.
Food prepared in a humble Italian village, the ingredients breathed the same air and drank the same water as the end-user, to mature, before being prepared for and consumed by the villagers that enjoy them.
I guess that is true for almost all ethnic cuisines prepared in other countries. But, for myself, I'll be damned if Indian food prepared in a good Indian restaurant in America, sometimes tastes better than in India. Possibly because the hot and pungent flavorful spices override the other ingredients.
It may sound like it does not matter. But, if you think about the alternative of food preparation in America, an onion coming from a farm in Mexico, garlic from a farm in China, tomatoes from a glass hot house in New Jersey, Costco olive oil, sitting in a gallon plastic jug for who knows how long, (in Italy, Italian local olive oil, virgin pressed and stored in wood, tapped and drizzled on sour dough local wheat bread, baked in an outdoor oven hearth, has such a simple powerful aroma and taste, so delightful, that it is a satisfying meal with a glass of wine) pasta made from enriched bleached white flower, salt from where ever Morton mined and turned it into NACL stripped of all minerals, fish from an antibiotic infused water tank, frozen hormoned beef, pork, chicken, et cetera. (Incidentally, other countries just don't want our beef, chicken, pork, eggs, milk, et cetera. Our government has to make deals with other countries to take it off our hands by enticing them with other valued goods. Some citizens of other countries resent allowing such products into their country but have no power to limit it.)
I mean, granted you purveyed some of your ingredients of top quality, imported from a pure region, but good ingredients are mixed with poor quality ingredients. The result is a mish-mash of ingredients having no local relationship to you. But, the chef does his/her best to harmonize his odd-ball cache and create for you an Italian meal fit for a king. At least the creator of the feast infuses his dish with the greatest of all ingredients, his talent and knowledge of cuisine. But, it can never have the aroma and demeanor and taste of the dish's original homeland. But, you hope that the main ingredient is of the finest quality to support a weaker supporting cast.
Food prepared in a humble Italian village, the ingredients breathed the same air and drank the same water as the end-user, to mature, before being prepared for and consumed by the villagers that enjoy them.
I guess that is true for almost all ethnic cuisines prepared in other countries. But, for myself, I'll be damned if Indian food prepared in a good Indian restaurant in America, sometimes tastes better than in India. Possibly because the hot and pungent flavorful spices override the other ingredients.
My mother was first-generation full-blooded Sicilian-American. She learned to cook from her mother, who in turn learned from her mother, and so on down the line. She always said that the best Italian restaurant she ever ate at was back in 2002 in Taipei. It was called "Tomato". I can attest to how good it was and how insanely fresh everything tasted, since I was there as well. Of course, NOTHING beats when you cook at home, but I have to say, that meal was transcendent.
When she made sauce (NOT GRAVY!!!), it was a five-to-six hour process. She made the meatballs, cooked all the pork and neck bones (I substitute spare ribs for neck bones), the sweet sausage with fennel and if it was available, the brasciole. The whole house would smell great for a couple of days. What I love about cooking sauce is that it's a way to connect with the past--how your mother cooked and how her mother cooked, etc. That's true for any cuisine.
Oh, and the reason why I'm insistent about it being "sauce" and not "gravy" is that gravy is meat based. Sauce does not have to be meat based (ie, marinara sauce).
When she made sauce (NOT GRAVY!!!), it was a five-to-six hour process. She made the meatballs, cooked all the pork and neck bones (I substitute spare ribs for neck bones), the sweet sausage with fennel and if it was available, the brasciole. The whole house would smell great for a couple of days. What I love about cooking sauce is that it's a way to connect with the past--how your mother cooked and how her mother cooked, etc. That's true for any cuisine.
Oh, and the reason why I'm insistent about it being "sauce" and not "gravy" is that gravy is meat based. Sauce does not have to be meat based (ie, marinara sauce).
Sure, I prefer a nice marinara "sauce" on my pasta or a beautiful "spaghetti aglio e olio" (spaghetti with garlic and olive oil) but for Sunday meals in an Italian home, that sauce is simmering for a long time with the brasciola, hot and sweet sausage, and meatballs, but once that "light bright tomato sauce" absorbs the rich and heavy flavor and oils and fragments of the meat, she transforms herself from red sauce to a brownish gravy.
And, if you got up late on Sunday morning but too early for lunch and mama was preparing the Sunday Italian feast but didn't want you to spoil your appetite by stealing a sausage or a meatball, (yes, meatballs were allowed to co-exist with the brasciola and the sausage) she would crack two or three eggs in the boiling sauce-gravy, and serve you your eggs in the tomato sauce, and point you to the fresh loaves of Italian bread and tell you to break off the end of the loaf to sop up your sauce or to cut your own bread because quote: "I am not your slave." (I mean she had been peeling garlic and cooking since 7 AM and she is not my slave!!!)
^^^
So interesting, your story about Italian food in Taipei. The Taiwanese like Italian food and want Italian food, but ultimately cannot really handle Italian food. Most authentic Italian restaurants in Taiwan are doomed to fail. (not all, but most)
I became friendly with a woman in Taiwan who traveled to Italy, and studied in a well-known Italian culinary institution, came back to Taiwan with all authentic Italian equipment and ingredients and opened a truly authentic Italian restaurant and totally failed. The authentic Italian taste did not match the lighter style of the taste sensibilities of the Taiwanese. So, she had to try and forget half of what she learned in Italy, and lighten the load to accomodate and mimick the Taiwanese taste, and it failed. It is very difficult to acclimate yourself to thousands of years of tradition instantly.
(Quite possibly the younger Taiwanese generation of today, less entrenched in Taiwanese cultural foods could accept the authentic tastes of Italy and other cultures due to so much gradual importation of foods and ideas)
For them, the main courses need some lightness and sweetness and seldom does an Italian main course engage in sugary sweetness. Saltiness prevails until dessert is served. Taiwanese will incorporate sweetness more in the meal and if dessert is served, it is less rich and less sweet. A typical red bean congee dessert is sweetened more with red dates and usually less sugar.
Asians use soybean and peanut oil but they use it more as a cooking medium or tool, while the Italians appreciate and celebrate cold-pressed olive oil for its flavor in cooking, but also to garnish and to be appreciated on its own. And, of course, dairy, milk and cheese had no place in Asian and Taiwanese cuisine until very recently
For an Italian, Taiwanese sausage is "unbearable," due to its sweetness. (any true paisano will immediately reject it) Taiwanese do have some very savory vermicelli dishes with oysters like "o-a mi soa" which is very earthy and satisfying, especially with pork intestines, oysters, garnished with cilantro.
Although, I have found a few pizzerias when visiting Taiwan that remain true to their training in Italy and proudly display their certificates from an Italian culinary institution on their walls, they are not really geared for the common people in Taiwan, and going there, you are almost sure to meet your "paisans" from Italy and you enjoy it, but, you know, you keep your mouth shut and just sort of shrug your shoulders a bit, smile and wink. They really are trying, so you remain very pleasant.
(I mean, nobody is judging because even in America, I look in awe at a Chinese chef in any local fast-food chinese restaurant, and marvel at his sheer athleticism and speed with a stainless steel wok, oil and fire)
However, I did go to a brick oven pizza parlor while visiting Taiwan and it looked authentic and I was just so excited with anticipation and my pizza was served to me, piping hot and -- "In the name of everything that holy and good, why the hell did you put sugar in my pizza??? its not a doughnut, for Christ's Sake." I cried out bloody murder, refused to eat it and instead did find a shot of good expresso to cleanse my palate of that "mortal sin." It was a travesty. People looked at me like I was insane. (Question: Who reacts to pizza that way, even if it is subpar???) (Answer: An Italian)
And, if you got up late on Sunday morning but too early for lunch and mama was preparing the Sunday Italian feast but didn't want you to spoil your appetite by stealing a sausage or a meatball, (yes, meatballs were allowed to co-exist with the brasciola and the sausage) she would crack two or three eggs in the boiling sauce-gravy, and serve you your eggs in the tomato sauce, and point you to the fresh loaves of Italian bread and tell you to break off the end of the loaf to sop up your sauce or to cut your own bread because quote: "I am not your slave." (I mean she had been peeling garlic and cooking since 7 AM and she is not my slave!!!)
^^^
So interesting, your story about Italian food in Taipei. The Taiwanese like Italian food and want Italian food, but ultimately cannot really handle Italian food. Most authentic Italian restaurants in Taiwan are doomed to fail. (not all, but most)
I became friendly with a woman in Taiwan who traveled to Italy, and studied in a well-known Italian culinary institution, came back to Taiwan with all authentic Italian equipment and ingredients and opened a truly authentic Italian restaurant and totally failed. The authentic Italian taste did not match the lighter style of the taste sensibilities of the Taiwanese. So, she had to try and forget half of what she learned in Italy, and lighten the load to accomodate and mimick the Taiwanese taste, and it failed. It is very difficult to acclimate yourself to thousands of years of tradition instantly.
(Quite possibly the younger Taiwanese generation of today, less entrenched in Taiwanese cultural foods could accept the authentic tastes of Italy and other cultures due to so much gradual importation of foods and ideas)
For them, the main courses need some lightness and sweetness and seldom does an Italian main course engage in sugary sweetness. Saltiness prevails until dessert is served. Taiwanese will incorporate sweetness more in the meal and if dessert is served, it is less rich and less sweet. A typical red bean congee dessert is sweetened more with red dates and usually less sugar.
Asians use soybean and peanut oil but they use it more as a cooking medium or tool, while the Italians appreciate and celebrate cold-pressed olive oil for its flavor in cooking, but also to garnish and to be appreciated on its own. And, of course, dairy, milk and cheese had no place in Asian and Taiwanese cuisine until very recently
For an Italian, Taiwanese sausage is "unbearable," due to its sweetness. (any true paisano will immediately reject it) Taiwanese do have some very savory vermicelli dishes with oysters like "o-a mi soa" which is very earthy and satisfying, especially with pork intestines, oysters, garnished with cilantro.
Although, I have found a few pizzerias when visiting Taiwan that remain true to their training in Italy and proudly display their certificates from an Italian culinary institution on their walls, they are not really geared for the common people in Taiwan, and going there, you are almost sure to meet your "paisans" from Italy and you enjoy it, but, you know, you keep your mouth shut and just sort of shrug your shoulders a bit, smile and wink. They really are trying, so you remain very pleasant.
(I mean, nobody is judging because even in America, I look in awe at a Chinese chef in any local fast-food chinese restaurant, and marvel at his sheer athleticism and speed with a stainless steel wok, oil and fire)
However, I did go to a brick oven pizza parlor while visiting Taiwan and it looked authentic and I was just so excited with anticipation and my pizza was served to me, piping hot and -- "In the name of everything that holy and good, why the hell did you put sugar in my pizza??? its not a doughnut, for Christ's Sake." I cried out bloody murder, refused to eat it and instead did find a shot of good expresso to cleanse my palate of that "mortal sin." It was a travesty. People looked at me like I was insane. (Question: Who reacts to pizza that way, even if it is subpar???) (Answer: An Italian)
Dammit, I wish I could post a picture of the last batch of sauce that I made! My brother came to visit (he lives on the west coast) last fall and I made sauce for him using my 16-quart saucepot. Just looking at the photo makes me hungry (and the sauce never turned brownish).
Funny you mention the sugar in your pizza. The first (and only) time I visited my relatives back in Sicily in 1982, one of our cousins took us out to an outdoor cafe, where he proceeded to order a Coke and then to our astonishment, added two teaspoons of sugar to his glass of Coke We asked him why did he added the sugar. He said it was to kill the carbonation. We couldn't believe he chose to make it sweeter just to get rid of the bubbles.
Funny you mention the sugar in your pizza. The first (and only) time I visited my relatives back in Sicily in 1982, one of our cousins took us out to an outdoor cafe, where he proceeded to order a Coke and then to our astonishment, added two teaspoons of sugar to his glass of Coke We asked him why did he added the sugar. He said it was to kill the carbonation. We couldn't believe he chose to make it sweeter just to get rid of the bubbles.
Like Antwerp mentioned and I can’t agree more. If your SAUCE is turning brown your doing something wrong. The longer you cook it sure it get get darker - a darker red, but never brown. I try to find the sweet spot where it’s still got a nice red color but the meats are tender and shred with a fork (if any meat).
Not my experience at all. But I lived there for a bit and got past the restaurants they take white people to.
Most American Indian restaurants are all over the map - no sense of regional cuisine. Best you’ll find is generic “North” or “South” as if Punjabi tandoor has any thing to do with Bengali fish curries, or Goan sausage would ever be found in the same place as Hyderabadi byriani.
Most American Indian restaurants are all over the map - no sense of regional cuisine. Best you’ll find is generic “North” or “South” as if Punjabi tandoor has any thing to do with Bengali fish curries, or Goan sausage would ever be found in the same place as Hyderabadi byriani.
I spent most of my time in the Himalayan region. Food was bland, if you could get it; rice, dahl, chopped onion, a roadside chapati, roti on a pan over an open flame. Food was more for subsistence, survival. I am sure it was my fault, because even in Delhi and other big cities, I stayed in far less than five star hotels and ate on the fly, off the streets, suffering Delhi-Belly.
But, in Uttar Pradesh, along the Ganga, I experienced urivaled joy feasting on those insanely sweet, short, fat, creamy, warmed by the sun bananas off the cart, sharing them with a gang of monkeys who were quite friendly and well-behaved with me.
In New York, Flushing, the Ganapati Temple, that small dosa store has some good simple fare and Hillside Dosa Hutt on Hillside Avenue in Glen Oaks, nice taste.
Sorry, I cannot talk regional about Indian food. Many times I ate simply in people's homes, almost picnic-style, on the floor, over a blanket. It was always good enough, basic food, but always hearty, nutritional and vegetarian.
But, in Uttar Pradesh, along the Ganga, I experienced urivaled joy feasting on those insanely sweet, short, fat, creamy, warmed by the sun bananas off the cart, sharing them with a gang of monkeys who were quite friendly and well-behaved with me.
In New York, Flushing, the Ganapati Temple, that small dosa store has some good simple fare and Hillside Dosa Hutt on Hillside Avenue in Glen Oaks, nice taste.
Sorry, I cannot talk regional about Indian food. Many times I ate simply in people's homes, almost picnic-style, on the floor, over a blanket. It was always good enough, basic food, but always hearty, nutritional and vegetarian.