Somehow, Italy seems to be all about food. That is what you all thought it would be and what I really knew it was. The Nonna is always ranting on about her century old recipes, using exclusively dialect words, to stop most from figuring out what she is on about; the next generation is not as good as them, but they can get by. My generation on the other hand, has no idea how to slaughter a pig. So Cristian’s New Year resolution for 2006 is to take part in the “spezzamento” ceremony which is held at the beginning of each year. Zio (Wilmaro in this case) goes out and buys the beast. The family keep it at the back of the house for a while, then, when all the friends are gathered, they do the deed. The carcass is supposed to hang upside down for a while before it gets sectioned into bite-size pieces.
So last night, I had the great joy of being put to the test in front of the whole blooming family. Not quite Kho Lanta or any other of the more gory reality shows, but I still had to try the kidneys, the heart, the intestines, the blood, and then, just when I thought I had managed to not loose face, the Nonna started telling me how she had made the sausage I had in my mouth from the brain and the head… Was that an eye pressing against my tongue? Was the chewy bit some kind of single neurone????
You will be pleased to know that I did not spit it out, but had to drink lots of vino to wash it down….
No bits of pig, only art, to keep your stomach calm.
When it snowed...
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