I Got the Almighty Tongue - Chapter 151



Only Noblemtl

151 City of Ham and Cheese

As Romeo said, it wasn’t long before I received an invitation from the Slow Food Association.

The venue for this meeting was Parma, a medium-sized city in northern Italy.

‘What does local cheese taste like?’

Since Parma is the home of Parmigiano Reggiano cheese, food comes to mind first.

Since I didn’t know the local situation, I booked my flight the day before with the intention of arriving early.

Italy is a country with a strong conflict between the North and the South. However, the balance of power between the two regions has never been fair.

Even in political and academic circles, this is referred to as the Southern Question (Questione meridionale), so the history of the South being treated like a pariah is something that cannot be fully explained even if one stays up all night.

The north was a wealthy region since before the Middle Ages, with the Duchy of Milan, the Duchy of Genoa, and the Duchy of Venice, and their wealth has continued to this day.

On the other hand, the history of the South is filled with colonial rule. So much so that even when the entire peninsula was unified under Italian rule, there are many records showing that the Southerners simply did not care, thinking that the owners had changed again.

However, the fact that pizza and pasta, which are representative foods of Italy, are both foods of the impoverished southern region makes us feel the irony of history.

However, there is a pasta that represents the North, and that is ravioli. Just thinking about tasting the local pasta makes me hungry.

“Jehee!”

As I was leaving the airport and standing to catch a taxi, I heard a voice calling me from behind.

“Joseph!”

A handsome blond man wearing sunglasses looks at me and grins with his teeth. He seems to have been invited to this meeting as well. Since I met Joseph Rolland, we have been in touch often.

Parma was a very difficult area to get to from New York.

There is an airport in Parma, but it is a small city with a population of less than 200,000, so there are no direct flights, and the closest airport is Milan Linate Airport (Aeroporto di Milano-Linate). Even then, it takes more than ten hours via Paris to get here. Joseph must have taken the same route, but he didn’t look tired on his face.

“Aren’t you tired, Joseph? You look like a middle school student excited to go on a field trip tomorrow.”

“Haha, that’s okay. For Americans, a ten-hour commute is normal.”

He laughs cheerfully at the joke I made. After all, America is a country where people drive straight at 60 miles a day all night. It takes six hours to get from LA to New York by plane. If you add the time it takes to get to and from the airport, it’s not uncommon for it to take more than ten hours.

“Are you going to Parma? Let’s go together.”

He offered to accompany me, but I was quite hungry.

“Shouldn’t we eat dinner first?”

This visit to Italy was also an opportunity for me. The more taste data I have, the better, so I plan to visit as many restaurants as possible.

“My stomach is sticking to my back. I didn’t eat the in-flight meal.”

Joseph frowns and gestures that he is hungry.

“Haha. The airline food isn’t very tasty.”

“That’s not all. I’ve worked on the development of airline meals, and they only care about one thing.”

He makes a displeased expression. I had an inkling of it, too.

“Preservation, I guess.”

“That’s right. Airlines are the kind of people who would put pesticide on their salads instead of dressing, as long as the food doesn’t spoil. Since then, I don’t eat airline meals no matter how delicious they look. You should be careful. Oh! You already know. You have a bad taste.”

“Of course. I only drank water and wine, so I’m hungry. But there’s no way to eat around here.”

Exactly.

He snaps his fingers when he hears me.

“It’s already scientifically proven that the food sold at airports is terrible. Let’s just hold out until Parma.”

I caught a taxi with him and headed to my destination. He was happy to meet someone he knew from out of town and kept trying to talk to me. Thanks to that, the ride wasn’t boring.

After about an hour and a half, the taxi arrived at the hotel in downtown Parma. After confirming the reservation and unpacking my luggage in the room, I went out and found Joseph sitting in the lobby.

“Let’s go.”

He says, closing the Lonely Planet (a famous American guidebook) he was reading.

Parma is one of the cities with a long history even in Italy.

This place, which served as an important strategic point for the Roman Empire since BC, still retains traces of its past even in modern times. As you pass the stone buildings that look hundreds of years old, the marble church, the official residence and castle used by the duke, and enter the alley, a completely different landscape unfolds.

The narrow alleys, which looked like they would have been used as carriage roads, were lined with cute restaurants and shops.

“That restaurant looks nice.”

Joseph points to a building. At the entrance there is a sign that says it has been in business since 1860.

“It’s amazing that it’s been in business for over 150 years.”

“I wish our restaurant could last that long.”

As I walked inside, chatting with him, I saw old tools on display that looked like they might have been used here in the past.

An old prosciutto holder, made of iron and rounded on a wooden board, shows the history of this place. I think it would be nice to buy an antique like that and use it at home.

After being guided to a table, the server brought me water and a menu. Looking at the price list, the dinner course was around 50 euros, which was expensive for a regular restaurant.

After ordering food and wine and looking around, I noticed the old interior that looked like it had been renovated over 20 years ago.

“It’s as if time has stopped. A restaurant like this wouldn’t have survived in New York.”

Joseph seems to think the same as me.

It has been almost 240 years since the United States gained independence from Britain, but it is hard to find a store in the United States that has been in business for this long. Why is this possible?

While I was lost in thought, the server brought me food. A variety of hams and breads came out first.

“This is Torta Fritta (an Italian hollow bread). Enjoy it with ham.”

The female server explains the food to us in broken English and then turns around.

“Wow! This is really filling.”

It was as he said. Salumi (a general term for ham made from whole pieces of meat) was piled high on a plate that looked to be about 18 inches tall.

In New York, an unimaginable amount of prosciutto, coppa (pork shoulder ham), lonza (sirloin ham with little fat), and spalla (ham made from the front shank) tempt us with their alluring aromas and colors.

On the other side of the plate are various types of salami (salami * dried sausage made from ground meat mixed with spices).

“It really is a city of ham and cheese.”

We looked at each other and nodded.

I picked up a piece of bread and cut it in half with a knife. Torta frita is a bread fried in oil. When I took a bite, I could smell the strong scent of lard. In the past, the common people of Rome did not dare to use expensive olive oil for frying. That is how lard came into being. In the north, where livestock farming was developed, there was a lot of pig fat that was thrown away.

I tried torta frita prepared in a traditional way with prosciutto. It had a tangy taste. I couldn’t taste any spices, so I guess the salt that was used to pickle it was special. It made me emotional to think that I was eating the same food as people hundreds of years ago.

The salami was also very salty and had a strong spice flavor.

‘Garlic, salt, pepper, paprika, chili powder···.’

We tasted each ingredient one by one, figuring out what went in. Since we were both hungry, we were eating the ham and bread without thinking, when the chef glanced outside and smiled. And soon after, the ravioli came out.

“Please give me a word about the Italian chef.”

Joseph looks at me playfully and says.

Pasta made by folding a round dough with filling into a half-moon shape and attaching the ends together resembles dumplings. Ravioli mixed with a sauce made with cheese and butter look delicious.

“Haha, I understand.”

I pick it up with a fork and taste it. It was ravioli with pancetta and spinach as the main ingredients. The rustic ingredients and soft cheese sauce mix together in my mouth, giving me a satisfying feeling.

‘It’s a taste I know, but that makes it even scarier.’

Koreans, too, naturally miss Korean food when they live abroad for a long time. And it doesn’t have to be something fancy. One day, you wake up and crave kimchi stew or stir-fried pork.

These ravioli were just that kind of dish.

“This type of ravioli is called tortellini. It’s a pasta that’s mainly eaten in the north. Depending on the region, different ingredients are added inside, but this is the Emilia style, which uses pancetta, spinach, egg yolk, and ricotta cheese. The ingredients and sauce also go well together. It’s made simply with Parmigiano Reggiano and butter. Try it.”

Joseph laughs at my words and starts eating his ravioli.

“How would you rate it?”

“I don’t want to do that. You can think of it as respect for tradition.”

This chef has probably been making pasta the same way his ancestors did his entire life. Wouldn’t it be polite for us to just be grateful and enjoy the taste they have preserved for over 100 years?

The main came out right after.

A generous plate of a large sirloin steak, a salad of shredded arugula and turnips, and garnishes of French fries and sautéed mushrooms. A small paper bag of sauce is provided on one side.

“It’s rustic but filling. If it were in my neighborhood, I think I’d be a regular here.”

It was a dish made with sincerity. The ingredients looked fresh and the meat looked good.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

After pouring the sauce, I cut the meat with a knife and tasted it.

“It’s a steak that has a different goal from fine dining.”

Joseph nods as he chews the meat at my words. What do Michelin star chefs consider most important when cooking steak?

It’s tender. If the searing is too much and the crust layer becomes thick, the meat becomes tough. We risk our lives to bring out the Maillard reaction with minimal searing so that the gray band (the part that is cooked well) does not widen, and to cook the inside evenly to medium rare.

“The meat is good. It’s grain-fed, so the fat is rich. The sauce is demi-glace based.”

Northern Italy is famous for its livestock farming.

As its reputation suggests, it was tender and had a strong flavor. It was over-seared, but the fat was dense enough that it didn’t bother me. In fact, the fact that I could feel the texture of chewing meat felt like an advantage.

“The salad was fresh too. I also liked that the French fries weren’t frozen.”

Joseph also looks satisfied with his meal.

We were finally able to finish our meal after dipping the Parmigiano Reggiano cheese in balsamico and finishing off the gelato. Before leaving, I gave the chef a thumbs up and he smiled brightly.

After eating, I started to feel tired. I went back to the hotel and fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning, after taking a shower, I opened my suitcase. I saw Joohee’s crisply ironed chef’s uniform.

– Didn’t you say it was a meeting? The dress code is chef’s uniform. Did I misread it?

I remember Joohee tilting her head after checking the invitation.

I checked my outfit in the mirror, put on my toque (a chef’s hat in the kitchen) and headed to the venue.

‘Damn. I should have listened to Joohee then.’

When I opened the door and went in, there were already about 30 people gathered in the hall. Everyone was wearing neat suits.

“Hey! Rookie. You’re here.”

Romeo, dressed in a stylish Italian suit, spots me and raises his hand in a teasing greeting.

Looking around carefully, it seems I’m not the only one who’s been affected.

Not far away, a female chef dressed in the same attire as me is shaking with a red face and clenched fists. Joseph also looks flustered.

Among the crowd dressed in dark suits, our appearance in pure white chef’s uniforms and even toques was enough to grab everyone’s attention.

Then, an old gentleman with gray hair slowly walks up to the stage, picks up the microphone, and taps it gently.

“Okay! Now that the rookies are here, let’s start the event.”

Alain Ducasse, the godfather of the chef world with 19 Michelin stars, was a living legend whose name itself was a genre.