Americanata

Over the past few months we have often been asked: "What do Italians think of Americans?" We came across the following from an Italian blog just last week and thought you might enjoy reading for yourself what often runs through the minds of Italians when they think of Americans. Don't take offense...at some point we'll do a reverse cultural look. So here is a partial list of "Americanate" (plural)...bet you didn't even realize there was such a word!

Americanata (AMERICAN-OTTA), an Italian term describing anything that is exaggerated, overdone, garish, pompous, boorish or just in plain bad taste -- in a uniquely American way.

EATING IN PUBLIC -- A college student brings a piece of pizza to class and sits there eating it, oblivious, while the professor lectures. "In Italy, we would never do something like that, "one Italian says. Why? The professor-student relationship is more formal, for one. Eating is taken more seriously. And Italians have better manners. You're not likely to see anywhere in Italy a family of Italians rolling down the highway while they each eat their fast-food dinners. The culture of la tavola -- the table -- demands more respect for a meal.

RECORD MANIA -- Hot dog-eating contests, amassing the biggest ball of twine in the world, flying around the world in a balloon -- the lure of setting a world record drives many Americans to extremes of accomplishment -- and bad taste. That summertime tradition, the pie-eating contest, may win Bubba a bask in the spotlight at the county fair. But when Italians see boys burying their faces in blueberry pies and scarfing them down come porci -- like pigs -- using food as a toy -- they add another Americanata to the list.

MISUSED ITALIAN FOOD NAMES/FOODS -- My wife and I stared at the colorful poster advertizing Pizza Hut's latest delicacy, "Tuscani Pastas."

"Delicious pasta dinners in Meaty Marinara or Creamy Chicken Alfredo. Finally, restaurant quality pasta delivered right to your door!" She wrinkled her face in distaste. "Oh. My. Gosh!" Then she asked the question millions of Italians who come to the USA still want answered: "Who's Alfredo?"

"Tuscani Pastas" ... never mind that neither word exists in English (pastas?) or Italian (it would be paste Toscane). Creating a lasagna-like dish out of rotini and chicken, then covering that with a glutinous blanket of cheese and cream sauce and baking it into a hot, oily mush, well ... any native Italians seeing the ads will likely be retching. A third-degree -- or make that a 350-degree -- Americanata.

Misused Italian food names are a rich source of Americanate, one that will never run out as long as there exists a single food company executive somewhere in the USA hoping to market the latest glop churned out by his factories by sticking an Italian-sounding name on it.

Pizza Hut is only the latest offender in the misuse of Italian terms. My wife and I used to walk past an Italian restaurant -- it has since closed -- in my former home state of Delaware whose sign out front proudly advertised "insulata" (insalata -- Italian for salad). Then there are those signs in upscale delis and coffee shops touting "Our new panini sandwich!" Panini means sandwiches -- plural -- in Italian, so they're actually selling people their "new sandwiches sandwich!" And Italian customers silently register another Americanata.

Then there's Dunkin Donuts' warm-weather drink, the "Coolatta." In Italian, culatta -- pronounced COO-LOTT-UH, just like the drink -- is a buttock. So if you see Italians giggling and pointing at the menu in DD, now you know why.

Of course, the misused words are just the surface covering the real horror - the food itself. Most Italian-American dishes sold here are cheesy, oily, caricatures of Southern Italian cuisine, whether it's Tuscani Pastas or that big plate of spongy pasta topped with a brownish, tannic-tasting red sauce and mealy meatballs you get at your local Mama Whatever's ("serving fine Italian food since 1957"). Often these are the creations of food company marketers, like the horrendous "stuffed crust pizza" now being touted by several pizza chains. Olive Garden's website currently boasts its latest specials, "Five Cheese-stuffed Rigatoni with Shrimp" and "Five Cheese-stuffed Rigatoni with Sausage." But ... the essence of real Italian food is simplicity and quality. Filled pasta like cappelletti is made with either ricotta or mortadella and served in a simple but delicious chicken broth. Period. And regular pasta is typically served with a few herbs, vegetables and olive oil, or with a simple red sauce or béchamel. There are Italian rigatoni dishes that include ricotta, bits of sausage and a sprinkling of pecorino, but the star of the dish is still the pasta; they don't stuff the rigatoni with five cheeses, drown it in oil and then bury the resulting mess under sausage and shrimp.

LOOK AT ME! Whether it's appearing on American Idol, Dance War, or The Biggest Loser, becoming a YouTube sensation or the star of your local karaoke night, the desire for public attention, for that 15 minutes -- or even 15 seconds -- of fame, is a top Americanata. Or, as our friend Giampiero e-mailed, via translation, "The mania to astonish people, at all costs, and in all ways -- and on TV if at all possible." So we have brides and grooms saying their vows while skydiving, or wearing scuba masks, fiancés pledging their love on billboards, or, as the newswires recently reported, an "artist" in Orlando, Florida, marking Feb. 29 (Leap Day) by devoting himself to leaping off a platform for the entire 24 hours "to get people to think how they spend their day."

SUPERSIZE NATION -- Italians like Americans but often joke about our love of living large, a love that has spawned various Americanate. Used to small cups of espresso quickly downed while standing at a bar, they gape at workplace coffee cups the size of small buckets; accustomed to ultra-compact Smart Cars, they are stunned by SUVs so large they are a threat to anything that gets near them and actually require small-truck license tags.

THESE COLORS DON'T RUN -- The presence of the flag at the football pre-game ritual -- and everywhere else you look -- is a quintessential Americanata; no other country in the world waves the flag quite so tirelessly as Americans, whether it's in ads for patriotism-injected pick-ups, blue-collar beer, or power tools, on T-shirts or underwear, a lapel pin -- lawmakers, don't get caught not wearing one! -- or a house-size Old Glory looming perilously over a car dealership parking lot. Italians marvel at this, the pride and pomposity of it all. Maybe they're more jaded when it comes to nationalism -- their last embrace of it didn't end so well. And national identity in Italy is a relatively thin veneer over much more deeply rooted allegiances to family, town and region. Whatever the reason, watching Americans shouting "Yoo-Ess-Ay! Yoo-Ess-Ay! Yoo-Ess-Ay!" or wearing their patriotism on their sleeves -- and sneakers, and beer wraps and briefs -- makes Italians laugh. And groan.