Dodgy food


Shocking news…I got chided by my lovely wife for posting the selfie with my two Bafta’s; not because it was just a little conceited (which might have been justified) but because it made me look like I’d had a mini stroke. Bit harsh. This was a bit of a surprise because I usually get told (and by some very close friends!) that my photos make me look like a child molester or that Victorian serial killer weirdo Bodkin Adams. Bloody cheek. I explained that I was winking rather than having a seizure because I was trying to imitate the famous bronze mask but I had another look and you know what…she may well be right. I do have a face for radio as we theatrical types put it.

So I figured I’d better leave the luvvie world behind for a day or so and write about something I know a little about. And I only know a little bit about food but I do know it’s a subject the Italians take very seriously. Poke fun at an Italian’s wife’s looks and he’ll laugh with you, shake your hand and have your missus behind your back before you can say Giaccino Robinfiglio.  But poke your finger in his mama’s pasta sauce and you’ll find yourself swimming with the fishes in a cement overcoat. Don’ta messa with the puttanesca.

So I was intrigued to learn yesterday that the luxury hotel that will be Italy’s bolt hole during the World Cup was found to have a load of out-of-date food in its kitchens which was confiscated by the local food protection agency. A similar finding had occurred at the England team’s Royal Tulip hotel too. The FA’s reaction was a shrug of the shoulders to accompany a statement to the effect that ‘it doesn’t really matter as we are bringing a plentiful supply of pork pies and pasties with us’. The Italian team on the other hand were aghast at the news that the hotel’s cucina was no better than a crappy curry house. With typical Italian sbruffonata they’ve let it be known that they’ll be shipping out over 20 tons of the finest Italian-sourced ingredients and their own cuoco to replace the poor Brazilian chef who, no doubt, will be wondering just what the Italians meant when they said that for starters they’d ordered him a Moe Green special. I’d smell the spaghetti Eduardo and de sair rapido amigo!

chef

pp

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