[ancora un po' di pazienza per il grande ritorno delle ricette di Chiara. Giuro. Nel frattampo, per ingannare l'attesa, un contributo "Non-monolocalesco. It happens that the intercom sounds Andrea Giannasi, journalist, historian, editor of Prospect and - I like to think so - slow gourmand since he took to publish people who have to do with goldfish and elusive weltanschauung . Which, brilliantly, doth gastrofanatici divertissement. Type the following, including Pinocchio, memory and liquid madelaines Garfagnana]
to
" entering the tavern, all three were placed at the table, but none of them had appetite.
the poor cat, feeling seriously unwell in the stomach, could not eat anything but thirty-five mullet with tomato sauce and four portions of tripe alla parmigiana: and why the tripe did not seem seasoned enough, you remade three times to ask for butter and grated cheese! The Fox would gladly
they invented something too, but since the doctor had ordered a great diet, so he had to be content with a simple sweet and sour rabbit with a faint outline of fattened pullets and cockerels of the first song.
After the hare did lead to a tornagusto cibreino partridges, partridges, rabbits, frogs, lizards and grape paradise, and then did not want another. He had a lot of nausea for the food, she said, she could not approach anything the mouth.
What was Pinocchio ate least of all. Asked a slice of walnut bread and a cantuccino, and left everything in the pot. The poor boy his mind always fixed on the Field of Miracles, he took early indigestion of gold . "
Chapter thirteen of a good novel for all ages.
so good that every time you re-read - I invite everyone to do it at least every three years - we face a different Pinocchio.
This is because that prick grow with us. Strange to say but there it is.
But this is not wanted to talk. [...].
We enter into the question. The taste is not only pleasurable sensation of the palate, but brings with it a memory that runs liquid inside each of us.
It is not unusual, then, when we meet old tastes, bind them inextricably to past memories. And so old faces returning to crowd our heads and a sort of short-circuit brakes and dismantles it. All this happens when our taste buds are cooked in a chestnut wood, which reminds us just what the sister of his grandmother, who was up there Sassorosso.
Or that sour wine, the crinton , that does not make us forget harvested under the sun and the fatigue that comes and goes in the wheelbarrow to bring the race to the darkness of the cool cellar.
And yet the ricotta with necci, not Christmas wedding risk failure. Solemn
soups spelled with the oil and pinches mondiola and fat. Nor can we forget the first jokes at school or with the Bazzone biroldo remember drawing some physiognomic prick or more of the class. So as the "cock of the first song" reminds us, the dinner of Pinocchio, other dishes or flavors remind us of other times.
But there is a problem.
not that simple to activate the liquid memory. And store it is not enough.
should be guarded with care and patience, because it does not always emerge. He risks ending up standing in a room so remote, even the existence of forgetting. Losing luggage
this means leaving per strada la nostra storia.
[…]
Quindi meglio l’abbuffata del gatto e della volpe, o piuttosto correre su e giù?
Lorenzini detto il Collodi ci insegna che alla fine non ci sono dottori o nausee che tengono.
La buona cucina non ha confini e la memoria è estesa proprio come un grande mare.
Un mare liquido e ficcato dentro ognuno di noi.
the poor cat, feeling seriously unwell in the stomach, could not eat anything but thirty-five mullet with tomato sauce and four portions of tripe alla parmigiana: and why the tripe did not seem seasoned enough, you remade three times to ask for butter and grated cheese! The Fox would gladly
they invented something too, but since the doctor had ordered a great diet, so he had to be content with a simple sweet and sour rabbit with a faint outline of fattened pullets and cockerels of the first song.
After the hare did lead to a tornagusto cibreino partridges, partridges, rabbits, frogs, lizards and grape paradise, and then did not want another. He had a lot of nausea for the food, she said, she could not approach anything the mouth.
What was Pinocchio ate least of all. Asked a slice of walnut bread and a cantuccino, and left everything in the pot. The poor boy his mind always fixed on the Field of Miracles, he took early indigestion of gold . "
Chapter thirteen of a good novel for all ages.
so good that every time you re-read - I invite everyone to do it at least every three years - we face a different Pinocchio.
This is because that prick grow with us. Strange to say but there it is.
But this is not wanted to talk. [...].
We enter into the question. The taste is not only pleasurable sensation of the palate, but brings with it a memory that runs liquid inside each of us.
It is not unusual, then, when we meet old tastes, bind them inextricably to past memories. And so old faces returning to crowd our heads and a sort of short-circuit brakes and dismantles it. All this happens when our taste buds are cooked in a chestnut wood, which reminds us just what the sister of his grandmother, who was up there Sassorosso.
Or that sour wine, the crinton , that does not make us forget harvested under the sun and the fatigue that comes and goes in the wheelbarrow to bring the race to the darkness of the cool cellar.
And yet the ricotta with necci, not Christmas wedding risk failure. Solemn
soups spelled with the oil and pinches mondiola and fat. Nor can we forget the first jokes at school or with the Bazzone biroldo remember drawing some physiognomic prick or more of the class. So as the "cock of the first song" reminds us, the dinner of Pinocchio, other dishes or flavors remind us of other times.
But there is a problem.
not that simple to activate the liquid memory. And store it is not enough.
should be guarded with care and patience, because it does not always emerge. He risks ending up standing in a room so remote, even the existence of forgetting. Losing luggage
this means leaving per strada la nostra storia.
[…]
Quindi meglio l’abbuffata del gatto e della volpe, o piuttosto correre su e giù?
Lorenzini detto il Collodi ci insegna che alla fine non ci sono dottori o nausee che tengono.
La buona cucina non ha confini e la memoria è estesa proprio come un grande mare.
Un mare liquido e ficcato dentro ognuno di noi.
a
Andrea Giannasi
0 comments:
Post a Comment