I had been warned about the tribulations of being a foreigner in Italy. I accepted the fact that no matter how long I stayed, I would always be looked at as an outsider. My cooking would always be considered inedible, if not poisonous. After all, I was rooted in La Lunigiana, a sort of backcountry carbuncle on the spine of Tuscany, at least according to some real estate agents looking to make a few more shekels on property further south.
But these days I am not alone as a stranger in a strange land. Recently, Italy news source ANSA has reported that “Italy’s immigrant population is rising astronomically.”
The number of legal immigrants in Italy climbed 21.6% last year, over 2005, the highest growth in the European Union, according to the latest report on immigration from the Catholic charity Caritas.
In 2006, there were 3.7 million immigrants registered in Italy, representing 6.2% of the total population compared to a EU average of 5.6%, the report said. If the current migration trend of 700,000 new immigrants a year continues, Caritas observed, there will be more than 10 million immigrants in Italy in 20 to 30 years.
In the last few years, the ethnic balance, even in my little village, has changed. My neighbor downstairs has a Moroccan caretaker. Immigrant caretakers are becoming the “in” thing, releasing Italians from the financial burden and intense care the young were expected to heap upon their elders.
But oddly, in light of what I had been told, the woman is pretty well integrated into our little community. People treat her as well as they do their own kin, as far as I’ve noticed. And she and my neighbors devoured the barbecued ribs and coleslaw we prepared for them on the 4th of July.
At least none of them complained of being poisoned by American ignorance of decent cooking.
Oh, and the best seafood restaurant/pizzeria near our house is run by a Romanian and nobody blinks an eye—perhaps because the food is darn tasty. The cuisine is Italian, but I’d been led to believe that local folks would stay away if they believed a foreigner was caught anywhere near the kitchen. The fact is, come later than 7:30 for cena, and you won’t find a parking place near the little ristorante along the road.
Then I heard from Elizabeth at Cross-cultural Moments that, “The ethnic menu has arrived in the Roman elementary school lunchroom.”
Yep, it turns out that kids are getting exotic cuisine right at school these days—exotic even by San Francisco standards. The Bangladesh meal they grudgingly consumed will be followed by meals from “Romania, Albania, Poland, Peru, China, Morocco and the Philippines.”
It’s a very interesting post. What’s happened to Italians? Will they lose the narrow-minded vision it takes to maintain a great, traditional cuisine built on an unyielding desire for perfection in both raw materials and finished product?
I’m rather attracted to narrow-mindedness and unyielding desire when I can ignore the political implications and enjoy the implied eroticism of a perfectly prepared Pasta Puttanesca. I pray Italy won’t succumb to the corporate junk food virus we’ve suffered in the US.
In any case, before my blood starts to boil, you should read Food fears