Y'all Don't Know What You're Missin'

            One of my favorite Mitch Hedberg jokes goes like this: When I play the South, they say "y'all" in the South. They take out the "O" and the "U". So when I'm in the South I try to talk like that so people understand me. "Hello, can I have a bowl of chicken noodle s-p? Come on, I'm in the South, you understand. I mean I'm in the S-th, and I want some s-p!" "I stubbed my toe, -ch!" "I need to lay down on the c-ch!" "I need to get the f*** -t of the S-th!" (Mitch All Together (2003), track 14, "Mitch in the S'th")

            Now, Mitch is not the only one that makes fun of my home region for its infamous “y’all”, and although I find this joke hilarious, I beg to differ. The South is often seen as backwards, years behind the industrial north, but in reality, it’s advanced. We have a word that solves English speakers’ pronoun problems; it functions on a higher level and finally answers that annoying question of how to pluralize “you” without being confusing, inaccurate, or sounding ridiculous. How many times have you tried to write something formal, be it an email, letter, or college paper, and struggled with the “you” plural? How many times have you incorrectly addressed a group of men and women as “you guys”? The South has done it right.

            Other languages have already figured out that a specific word for multiple “you” makes sense. I remember discovering German’s ihr in high school and being ecstatic that we in Atlanta, Georgia were the ones doing things like other countries – we were the global ones. This discovery was affirmed with my study of the Italian language and my exposure to the Spanish language, French, and Arabic.

            Upon further reflection, especially during my study of linguistics, I realized that the South is not the only one with the plural “you.” My grandma’s Pittsburghese “youns”, “yinz,” and Northeastern “youz guys” have figured it out as well. This is fascinating, especially from a sociolinguistic standpoint. Maybe we as English speaker don’t have the plural you because in general, the American and English individualistic society focuses more on the individual. However, the plural has popped up in the places of the United States where community is historically very important (usually due to isolation or poverty): the immigrant communities of the Northeast and western Pennsylvania, Chicago, and the South. I argue continuously with my students and foreign friends that America does have a culture (to be diverse), and within that there are several strong cultures and proud communities, one of the most prevalent being that of the Southeast. Case in point: The South was one of the poorest and largest communities, and is also the best known (and most made fun of) for its y’all.

            Not only does it make linguistic sense, but it’s just more friendly. Someone says y’all and you (excuse me, y’all) feel warm, fuzzy, and a part of a welcoming group.  Who doesn’t watch Steel Magnolias and love the ladies and their sweet southern accents? And although in my opinion Paula Dean, bless her heart, overuses the phrase (not to mention butter) for marketing purposes, she still gives you that mamma/grandmamma feeling that you can only get from that word. “Yinz” doesn’t cultivate that same feeling in me, but I think if I were raised elsewhere it might.

             I hold a graduate degree in the Applied Linguistics and TESOL, and yet I refuse to let go of my y’all. In fact, I advocate that we all adopt a form of the plural you. Y'all don't know what you're missing. The freedom of being able to easily call a group of people by a pronoun that makes sense is liberating. Come on Standard English, catch up! You’ve got a whole region two steps ahead of you!

Have any of y’all had experiences with the plural you? What do you think?

Hosting, Being a Guest…and Brownies!

            After having lived in Europe during the fall of 2011, I moved to Cincinnati in January, hoping to establish a more permanent residence. This move came with the usual discovering of a new city and its people, but also included a bit of reverse culture shock as I re-acclimated to aspects of an American lifestyle.  I missed not having the time and option to go to fresh, local markets, but was easily able to make do with Cinci’s Jungle Jims and Findlay Market. Good crusty bread is harder to find, but does exist and tastes delicious when make the effort to locate it.  And although I walked everywhere in Rome, I quickly readjusted to the lifestyle of automobiles in America, and even took it one step further by adding an hour-long commute to and from my new job. However, I am still adjusting to on specific aspect of my fellow Americans, and finding it hard to do so.

            When did the rules of being a guest or a host change? Call me old-fashioned in my great age of 26, but it seems to me that the feeling of entitlement of my generation to have what you want, when you want it, how you want it, has superseded the need to be a good guest or host.  Let me explain. After moving to a new city, I feel the need to meet people. I’m a social person and not having friends does not sit well with me. So, I met a few people from my apartments and invited them to dinner. I soon found out that this experience was not going to be as easy as I had imagined.

            First, I had to take inventory of allergies and intolerances: How many lactose intolerant people? Anyone allergic to nuts? Do we have any celiacs in the crowd? Other strange allergies I don’t know about?  I can’t blame any of my guests for these. You can’t help your gluten intolerance and I can’t help the fact that cheese and my stomach are unfortunately not friends…and I’d like all of my guests to leave my house alive. However, Round 2 of planning gets a little more complicated: Is anyone a vegetarian? How about vegans? Are there any food taboos associated with the religions of my guests? Any other social or cultural restrictions I should know about?  Again, my American respect of individualism prohibits me from becoming too annoyed. Vegetarians should have the freedom to make a statement of principle and, being Catholic with its No Meat Fridays, I not only respect but empathize with those who cannot eat certain foods due to religious prohibitions.

            So I’m driving back to my apartment two days before my dinner, trying to configure a menu to accommodate the gluten-free guest, my cheese intolerance, the vegetarian, and the Muslim guest when I run into one of the invitees in the parking lot of our building. After exchanging small talk, I run my potential menu by him: bread, risotto with sun-dried tomatoes, vegetarian eggplant and zucchini moussaka with no meat and cheese only half of the dish (can be eaten as a side or entrée), and a roasted chicken. He cringes. My heart sinks. “Does that sound okay?” I ask.  “Well….I don’t really like eggplant,” he explains. Okay. So now we’re going to Level 3 of planning of a dinner: accommodating all of the specific food preferences of your guests? “No problem,” I say, “I’ll figure something else out.” I think of another dish all the way up the stairs – I need one filling enough for a vegetarian to eat, but that could also serve as a veggie side dish for the meat eaters of the group. I draw a blank and ultimately decide to tack a salad on the growing menu  so as to accommodate my new eggplant-hating friend.

            The next day I realize I should make a dessert. I have a great recipe for olive-oil lemon cake in one of my cookbooks; it’s different and still really good. I run this by a new apartment friend over drinks. She cringes. My heart sinks…again. “Ooooo, I don’t really like lemon,” she says. “No problem,” I respond, “ How about peanut butter fudge?” It’s fast, easy, and tasty, I think to myself. Take a guess at what happened next…her boyfriend is allergic to nuts. At this point my brain is exhausted and I don’t even feel like cooking anything, and then I throw out my last attempt, “What about brownies?” Her eyes light up, “We love brownies!!” BINGO. I should have gone there first... American can resist the brownie.

            What ever happened to eating what the hosts cooks? When did inviting people to dinner turn into the host being a personal chef for multiple guest, commissioned to appease the tastes and restrictions of each individual? I can’t say that I’m not guilty of imposing my no-cheese or cream restriction on my host, but I am a little surprised at the detailed explanations of “can’t do” foods that I am given by guests.

            In the end, the dinner turned out well – we had a nice showing of 5 people plus us with - this is not a joke - a vegetarian, a no-pork eater, ca eliac, and a no-cheese eater. I cooked all day and presented a buffet of food for the guests to choose from. Some guests ate a little of this or that, and the three non-restricted ate a little of all of the plates. The only food that no one passed up was the brownies. I said goodbye to the last guest, mentally exhausted.

          As I sat on the couch after everyone had left, I reflected on the night. All of my efforts rendered me with two vital conclusions: 1)These days, it’s better to go out to eat with new friends, and 2) You can’t wrong with the food that no American can resist…the brownie.

            I found the recipe for the brownies at www.browniepower.com (check it out – this is the place to go if you love your brownies), and I adapted it for the ingredients that I had on hand. These brownies were some of the best that I have had, and can’t steer you wrong if you’re ever a host or a guest…or if you have a little chocolate craving yourself.

Fudgy Brownies

½ cup white sugar

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

2 tablespoons water

½ cup semisweet chocolate chips

1 cup dark chocolate chunks

2 eggs

½ teaspoon vanilla extract

⅓cup all-purpose flour

½ tsp baking soda

¼ teaspoon salt

            Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Place sugar and water in saucepan and heat on medium low until sugar is melted. Add butter, stirring continuously – do not boil or the mixture will be too hot to add the eggs without them cooking. Remove from heat and let cool for one minute. Add chocolate chips and dark chocolate to the sugar, butter, and water mixture. Add the eggs, one at a time, and then the vanilla extract. Place baking soda, flour, and salt into a sifter and sift into chocolate mixture (stir once or twice while adding). Finish stirring just until mixed and pour into a greased 8x8 pan. Bake for 25-30 minutes or until a knife or toothpick comes out clean.

**Marti’s side note: these are also delicious half-baked after 20 minutes with some sort of cold milky (or fake milky if you don’t do cream…) treat.

A Tasty Tradition

            Being of the age when people start to think about marriage, I have attended several weddings of close friends in the past few years. This seems to be continuing this year, as another one of my best friends is getting married in September, and my boyfriend’s very close friend is getting married in April. I’m no newbie to the wedding scene, as I come from a close, large, Italian-Catholic family in which weddings last four days, from Thursday night – Sunday morning. However, I am learning a lot about being in weddings or being friends with, not just related to, the bride or groom. I appear in my fifth wedding as a bridesmaid this September (27 Dresses, anyone?…I’ve passed the three times a bridesmaid mark) and I have markedly noticed the importance of pre-wedding traditions in weddings of my friends from the South. One of these includes the Bridal Shower. Now, as I can make out, several factors weigh into if you get a bridal shower and how many you get. If your friends and their mothers are knowledgeable in the ways of the Southern tradition of the necessity of the bridal shower, you get one. If your friends and their mothers are knowledgeable in the ways of the Southern tradition of the necessity of the bridal shower but are in separate social circles, you get more than one. If the bridal shower is in nice weather, as a guess you should dress nice, in a sundress, and bring a gift that is from the bride’s registry.  It is also custom to bring a recipe to share with the bride or send a recipe prior to the shower to the host, who then compiles all of the recipes into a book. During the shower, you eat light appetizers, often accompanied by punch and petit fours, the bride opens gifts, and you sometimes play games. In my opinion, bridal showers are a lovely reflection of the community and tradition of the South.

            I recently wrote a blog for my Italian collaborator and friend at Faccio Tutto da Sola U.S.A., in which I explained Bridal Showers and gave the recipe that I inevitably bestow upon any friend who will soon be a new bride.  In order to explain this phenomenon to the Italians, I looked up the history. Bridal Showers apparently began in the 1890s as a way to assure that the bride and her family, who were paying for the wedding, had enough money and goods to finance the big day. Women friends and their mothers usually hosted (host) these parties in which the bride receives gifts that she will use in her new life. I love that this tradition reflects so perfectly the strong sense of community and helping each other out that we have in the South. We might not always have the big bank rolls, but we have each other...and our food.

            Today I would like to share a recipe that I always give to the new bride. It’s a recipe that has won the hearts of my students and friends from around the world -  from Saudi Arabia, China, Italy, Ohio…I have yet to meet someone that does not love this recipe. Ladies and gentlemen, I give my adapted version of Southern Living’s Sour Cream Apple Coffee Cake, a different food all together than the dry Starbucks strudel version.

Apple Coffee Cake...the way it should be...Southern.

Sour Cream Apple Coffee Cake
½ cup butter or shortening
1 cup sugar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
½ tsp salt
2 cups flour
8 oz. sour cream or Greek yogurt
1 ½ cups apples (or any fruit - blueberries or pears work well, but peaches tend to get lost and do not have great flavor)

Topping
½ cup brown sugar
½ cup chopped nuts
2 tablespoons butter

Mix first four ingredients together in one bowl. Mix flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a separate bowl. Add flour mixture the the first bowl, alternating with sour cream (add a little bit of flour then mix, then little bit of sour cream and mix,  then little bit of flour and mix, then little bit of sour cream and mix, then little bit of flour and mix). Add fruit to the batter. Pour mixture into a greased cake pan and sprinkle topping on the top. Bake at 375 degrees for 25-35 minutes or until you can put a knife in the cake and it comes out clean.

Read the Italian Coffee Cake post at: http://www.facciotuttodasola.com/2012/03/faccio-tutto-da-sola-usa-coffee-cake.html

Racy Words

      We as a society (or at least I, personally), like to consider ourselves above being manipulated by the media or the larger forces that be. I like to think that my opinions are formed because they are what I believe, not because they are what I was told to believe. This is why I’ve recently been confused at the GOP candidate’s accusations that Mitt Romney wins only because he has money…maybe he pays for really good advertisers?My question in this has been: The meaning of his beliefs and message doesn’t have anything to do with it? Honestly, I am not planning to vote in that party, and outside of my morning Today Show and listening to NPR Morning Edition during my hour-long drive to work, I don't read extensively on the candidates. Maybe I’m missing something from the ads that I quickly change away from when they appear on my Ohio TV. (by the way…CAN’T WAIT for the election and all of the Ohio ads….not.) Anyway, this and my linguistics background got me to thinking about how it must be the ads and the wording in the ads that somehow compels people to vote for Romney. I let this thought roll around in my head during my long commute, and then kind of let it go. Yesterday, however, I was restruck by the power of words in the news reporting of the case of Trevon Martin.

            A week or two ago, when the killing surfaced in national news (it had already been circulating in the black news community), George Zimmerman was referred to as white.  I distinctly remember the Today Show pasting a picture of the accused man with the newscaster reading, “A white man has allegedly shot and killed a black teenager in the state of Florida…” As the story has progressed, we’ve learned more about the black teen and his packet of candy and can of iced tea as well as information about the alleged white killer (side note: the media also NEVER says shooter, but alleged shooter – it makes me wonder if this is a legal thing – innocent until proven guilty in courts but also in the media?). George Zimmerman was a neighborhood watch volunteer, middle-aged, claiming self-defense, who attacked a black boy. Since the news has surfaced, we have seen the March of a Million Hoodies and other instances in which the black community rallied around Trevon Martin’s devastated parents. The nation has watched as the issue has become not only about justice for a dead teen, but justice for racial discrimination: a black teen, seemingly innocent and definitely unarmed, killed by a white man. Yesterday, however, something changed. When I was listening to updates on the story, George Zimmerman all of a sudden became Hispanic and the case became that of a black teen killed by a Hispanic man. The feel was different to the phrase; somehow it was less shocking or scandalous. I reflected on this for a good 30 minutes of my drive: why does “a white man” carry different nuances than “a Hispanic man” in this case? And what is the result for the listeners? Has the media or George Zimmerman switched to highlight the man’s Hispanic heritage in order to steer the story away from race by making it one minority killing another? Why is that better or more okay than a white killing a black or vice versa? I am blown away by the power there is in changing one adjective to present an alleged killer. All of a sudden, the media presenting the story/George Zimmerman moves this story from a racial issue to an "even playing field" because both of the parties are minorities. What does that say about the engrained stereotypes and racial issues that apparently still exist in our society? And besides...shouldn’t this story just be about a teen wrongly shot dead by an overzealous man?

Not Italian, and Proud to be Italian-American

“I am Italian” (pronounced "aye-tal-yen"). The large majority of Italian-Americans have uttered this phrase at some point in their lives; it's everywhere, proudly proclaimed on the streets of the grand cities of New York, Chicago, and Pittsburgh, but also around the dinner tables and Christmas cookie platters of American small towns and communities. Members of this group are known for their strong Italian sentiment and affiliation; however, scant few speak a word of Italian. Even less could tell you who the famous pop stars are in Italy today...and even less could name the main political players and news events in the country they claim their own. Many Italians that I know from Italy are often stupefied by this group of people who walks into the country claiming to be native, demanding the non-existant fettucine alfredo and asking whey the pizzas are so thin on the streets of Rome. Italians today are driven to wonder if maybe there is another Italy that speaks another language (apparently English), hidden in another universe that others are unaware of (America)? They wonder, who are these people? Has an entire ethnic group of Americans gone insane?

My story begins here. My name is Martina (Marti, for short) and I am part of this seemingly paradoxical group, meaning that perhaps I, too, have gone crazy. My great-grandparents on my mother’s side were from Italy. On my father’s side, not even a drop of Italian blood. For some reason, though, the pride of being Italian was not lost with my great grandparents, as is the case for many Italian-Americans, and our stories can’t be too different. My ancestors came to America from the Piedmont and Veneto regions of northern Italy during the great Italian immigration in the early 1900’s, searching for success and the famed American dream. They were poor in Italy, and when they arrived they did not speak a world of English…actually, they didn’t even speak Italian, but only their local dialects. These hard-working immigrants began working as coal and steel minors in western Pennsylvania and were heavily discriminated against for being different. This discrimination forced them to live in small Italian communities, in which they spoke their language with friends and family. (My grandmother grew up in one of these communities and even though she was born in Pennsylvania, her first language was the Piemontese dialect.) My ancestors fought against discrimination with their pride of being Italian; they lived poor and disadvantaged during the Great Depression, but in the end prevailed and realized the American Dream. Every generation after has been more successful in level of education and in their careers, but the pride of being Italian has continued to be passed down from generation to generation. We have not forgotten our roots and the sacrifices of my great-grandparents. The language has long since been lost, but with the pride of being Italian, the food has also continued to be passed down, modified with fresh American ingredients to create a new category of ethnic food: “Italian-American.”

It is with this history in mind that I claim to be a new, beautiful category of ethnicity: “Italian-American.” See, after having grown up claiming to be Italian, I went to Italy, and I discovered that as much as I love the country, these people are not who I am. Let me explain. The strong connection with my roots compelled me to study Italian when I was studying my undergraduate degree at Notre Dame (I had already been studying German in high school because they did not offer Italian and I was not going to study French). I went abroad to live in Rome in the fall of 2006 and upon return from my first taste of Italy fell hopelessly in love with the culture. Coincidently, that year I started dating the son of two italians, who is both American and Italian, speaks both languages perfectly, and demonstrates many aspects of both cultures. My senior year of college was spent writing an honors anthropology thesis on Bolzano, a region in northwestern Italy that speaks both German and Italian, analyzing its cultural and linguistic tensions between  the two cultural linguistic groups. Since then I have never been able to satisfy my thirst to learn more about the culture, the language, and especially the cuisine. I bought the Italian version of The Joy of Cooking to practice my language and recipes, I read the newspaper and magazines, talking with friends, and listen to an Italian podcast, Decanter, that discusses food and wine. Basically I’m intersted in the culture. However, through this process, I learned that I am not Italian. At the beginning of my Italian adventures, I did not understand many habits and cultural aspects of the Italians that I knew and came in contact with. This especially included the culture of being direct, one which we Americans try to avoid if at all possible, preferring to highlight our respect for another’s right to have an opinion instead of whether we disagree or agree. This being said for Americans (me) and considering my having dating an Italian for 5 years, the beginning of our relationship held quite a few tears when he proudly declared his opposite opinion and I, unused to have anyone forcefully declare their disagreement with me, was left shocked at his bluntness. With year, I have become more able to without an intense discussion (and he more sensitive to my American sensitivity), but it took a while to get there. I also remember the first time I ever ate Italian pizza – I was unable to fathom that each Italian ordered his or her own pizza, and when the pizza arrived, it’s thinness was a turn-off, but I learned to see things through Italian lenses as well. Now, I still enjoy a good Papa John’s takeout, but I also order my own pizza and crave the soft, thin crusts of the pizzerias in Sicily. In tanto, I am Marti, and I am Italian-influenced Italian-American. I have realized I hold the pride and cultural aspects of the unique Italian-American culture in which I grew up, but I have also taken on cultural aspects and preferences of the Italians today. Whew. In addition to my Italian heritage, I’m from Georgia. Born and raised. And although my Pittsburghese parents and northern fellow Italian-Americans and Catholics were a large part of those who raised me, I have also soaked up and am extremely proud of the Southern culture.

In the following posts of this blog, I hope to share my love for culture, langauges, and cooking by posting recipes, experiences, and thoughts. I hope to also learn from and with anyone that reads it as we as Americans, barreling towards globaliation, discover more about the world, its people, its langauges, and its food.

The Drought is Over Part5

....just kidding. I wish I was as cool as Lil Wayne in title-naming skills, but unfortunately my talents lie elsewhere. This post is to declare that I am officially reviving my blogging as part of a cooperative effort across the Atlantic Ocean. Just recently, I was listening to my usual favorite Italian radio Podcast, Decanter, and I heard a woman promoting her blog, "Faccio Tutto da Sola" (I do everything myself) at http://facciotuttodasola.blogspot.com/ and facciotuttodasola.com. In this blog, the woman recounts her daily life and her adventures in the world of wine and food; she is a working woman and does not have excessive amounts of time, but looks up recipes, tweaks them to fit her taste, and blogs about it. Think Julie and Julia with internet recipes in place of Mastering the Art of French Cooking (not even kidding - her name is Giulia). She has also recently began a "Sommelier Course"once a week in which she writes about the art of tasting and knowing wine. Her blog has been nominated for an award for the Best Lifestyle Blog in Italy, and she has just discovered that she is a finalist. Anyway, it's pretty amazing. Where I come in is two weeks ago. After I heard her on Decanter, I wrote her with a recipe for coffee cake, we quickly found that we are kindred spirits, and she asked me to write for a section of her blog, called Faccio Tutto da Sola USA. In this section, I will introduce recipes, brag about the diverse beauty of American food and culture, and try to paint a full picture of the Land of the Free. From my experience, we tend to be pretty flat characters in the minds of many foreigners (for example, when my section of the blog was introduced on a radio show, they played the Beach Boys Surfin' USA and Born in the USA. The time it took to listen to two of the most stereotypical "America"songs was more than enough to come to the realization that I have my work cut out for me.) I hope to share the real America with our pan-Atlantic neighbors. For my friend's blog, I write in Italian, but I hope to also post blogs in English on this page, so that we can have a full collaboration and everyone on this side of the pond can learn a bit about today's Italy, which is a little different from the Italy of our grandparents, as well. Avanti!