I bought meat from the butcher. They enquired what I was going to do with it. I told them. “Are you Italian?”, they would inquire. Usually accompanied by a degree of interest. Sadly, “no”, I would respond. They would nod, somewhat sadly.
I bought sausage and salami casings from suppliers. “Are you Italian?”, they would inquire. Usually accompanied by a degree of interest. Sadly, “no”, I would respond. They would nod, somewhat sadly.
I asked the delicatessen vendors what was the difference between their various products. “Are you Italian?”, they would inquire. Usually accompanied by a degree of interest. Sadly, “no”, I would respond. They would nod, somewhat sadly.
I purchased specialist equipment from specialist suppliers. “Are you Italian?”, they would inquire. Usually accompanied by a degree of interest. I must inform you that Melbourne has a very high proportion of citizens who have migrated from Italy. Such is the broad church of our community. The inquiry was very natural. But increasingly, I found to be counterproductive. “No”, I would respond, increasingly curtly. They would nod, somewhat sadly.
I asked about how to cure without a dedicated curing chamber. “Are you Italian?”, they would inquire. Usually accompanied by a degree of interest. “No”, I would respond. They would nod, somewhat sadly.
I am not Italian, French, Polish, Croatian or Spanish. If that means that I cannot do this, then I apologise.
I have transgressed.
Forgive me.
Jane Grigson was British but wrote a book about charcuterie. Elizabeth David was British but wrote about French and Italian cookery including charcuterie.
One needs to understand it and be interested.
In my view, that is not only necessary but sufficient.