Eating Rituals - Turning Tuscan: A Step-by-Step Guide to Going Native - page 58

The conventionality of cuisine very much resembles the carefully honored conventions in
Tuscan religious art. The artist's ingenuity, like the chef's, lies in taking the familiar ele-
ments and creating a variation on the theme, one that honors the tradition while bringing a
special flavor to it. In the light of this discipline and restraint, one begins to appreciate T.S.
Eliot's description of radical originality as the hallmark of a second-rate mind.
When we come back to California and go out to eat, we always chuckle when we read the
menus in our native language where each entrée description has at least one or two words
that we've never seen before. As the name implies, our Nouvelle Cuisine caters to our in-
satiable appetite for novelty.
***
During one of our first seasons in Tuscany, we ate panzanella at a friend's house and asked
how it was made. We were given a careful summary of the basic ingredients and how they
should be put together, along with the explanation that this was a traditional peasant dish.
With the help of some diced up tomatoes, sautéed onions and a bit of parsley, our dried-out
bread could be recycled to provide a tasty summer salad.
And, so, Pam threw some rock-hard bread in a large bowl to soak, sautéed the onions and
garlic, tossed in the other ingredients and made a delicious panzanella . The next day, as we
sat with the others under the chestnut tree, she shared the news of her success. Everyone
was interested to hear the details of how she made it. They followed along, blow by blow,
nodding and smiling, until she mentioned the garlic.
“Garlic?” they asked in disbelief. “You put in garlic?”
“Yes, I did.” she confessed somewhat taken aback. “Is there a problem with putting in gar-
lic?”
But everyone just laughed and shook their heads. “You don't put garlic in a panzanella !”
We tried to explore the whys and wherefores, but it was a fruitless endeavor. They seemed
to be vaguely amused about being pressed for an explanation, the way you might feel when
your two-year-old asks why she shouldn't use her sleeve for a tissue. “It's just not done.”
Cappuccino after dinner was another one of the local taboos we violated regularly until our
friend, Angela, quietly took us aside one day. She asked how we could possibly want to
have such a heavy, milk drink after a big meal. And hadn't we noticed that Italians nev-
er drink cappuccino after dinner? Coming from the land of Starbucks where people order