Navel Gazing in Italy
February 13, 2024
It often amazes me as to ‘what’ things have their own ‘day,’ ‘week,’ or ‘month.’ In the past I’ve written about “National Nothing Day –January 16th,” “National Cleaning Week –March 24th,” and “World Turtle Day – May 23rd,” to name a few.
But when my brother shared with me that February 13th is “National Tortellini Day” I knew it had to be the topic of this week’s Tuesday Newsday.
So what is, exactly, a ‘tortellini’? The Infallible Wikipedia does not disappoint:
“Tortellini are stuffed pasta originally from the Italian region of Emilia (in particular Bologna and Modena). Traditionally they are stuffed with a mix of meat (pork loin, raw prosciutto, mortadella), Parmesan cheese, egg and nutmeg and served in capon broth (in brodo di cappone).
In the area of origin they are usually sold fresh or home-made. Industrially packaged, dried, refrigerated, or frozen, tortellini appears in many locations around the world, especially where there are large Italian communities.”
Additionally, there is a legend that the pasta was concocted by an innkeeper in the small community of Castelfranco Emilia which is located in the same vicinity as an ancient Roman village in the northern section of Italy near Modena.
As the legend is told the goddess Venus stays at the inn and the innkeeper, so enamored with her beauty, spies on her through the keyhole of the door to her room. Yet, all he can see of Venus is her navel which inspires him to create a pasta in the shape of it. Okay, it is kinda creepy. Oh those crazy Italians!
Apparently, to this day, there is a festival held in Castelfranco Emilia to honor tortellini.
Growing up the only pasta which ever seemed to grace my family’s dinner table was spaghetti. I’m pretty certain that I never ate tortellini until I was in my 30’s – not because I had anything against it, just that it wasn’t on my culinary radar.
That all changed one day in 2012 when, as an adult advisor for the Bellevue Rainbow Girls, I was asked by the Worthy Advisor (President) Janessa if the hubby and I would be willing to make and serve the ‘main’ course for a progressive dinner she was planning.
We agreed and then I asked her if there was any particular food she would like us to prepare. Her response: tortellini.
When I was a Rainbow Girl back in the dark ages we also had ‘progressive’ dinners. What happened is that the girls would travel, usually by cars driven by advisors, to one home for appetizers. After that it might be a salad course, followed by the main course, and concluding with dessert.
In my day these were rather tame affairs with everyone sitting properly at the dining room table at the hosts house and that is, I’m certain, what the girls were expecting that spring day of 2012.
But that is NOT what they got. As the hubby and I contemplated this event we decided to go all in. In our family room I arranged four or five card tables as though in a café and made dark red satin tablecloths to go over them. There were lit pillar candles in the center of each table plus silverware and napkins at each place setting.
In our front hallway I set up a large white board proclaiming that they had arrived at “Papa Gino’s” which served “All Tortellini All The Time.” I created paper menus. But the absolute best part was that the hubby took on the role of the proprietor “Papa Gino” complete with a painted on fake mustache and dressed like we imagined a restaurateur from Italy might appear.
Soon we received word that the girls were leaving their previous stop and would soon arrive. With Papa Gino stationed behind his check in podium, when the door opened there was a look of confusion on the faces of the first group as “Papa” loudly proclaimed in his best ‘worst’ Italian accent, “Welcome to Papa Ginos, how many in your party?”
Oh, but that was not all. From the moment the guests arrived, Papa and the long suffering cook “Mama” bickered with one another. But Papa’s impatience wasn’t confined to Mama, if the guests didn’t answer a question right away, Papa would badger them for an answer. And heaven forbid if they asked for ANYTHING besides tortellini because Papa would shame them and point at the menu suggesting they needed to learn to read as it clearly said “All Tortellini All the Time.”
Both girls and adults were in stitches over the banter that evening and were talking about “Papa Gino’s” for several years.
Fast forward to 2015. In anticipation of my father-in-laws 90th birthday we volunteered to be the hosts. My mother-in-law – having heard the tales of Papa Gino’s previous gig – requested that we present an encore performance. As you wish.
It was a beautiful late September day and my in-laws, three of their children, all six grandchildren, and spouses arrived. Finally, around 5 p.m., everyone was kicked out of the family room, a bed sheet ‘curtain’ was erected and, once again, Papa Gino’s restaurant was brought to life.
Papa was in fine form, showering abuse on his older brother who was attempting, but failing, to pull Papa Gino out of character; Papa suggested to his niece – who, at five months pregnant was the epitome of health and beauty – that perhaps she needed to cut back on the pasta.
Table by table he worked the room, taking orders, engaging the guests, and the gales of laughter told the story of everyone having great fun as if dining at a live performance dinner theatre where Papa taking orders and serving, and with Mama, and their idiot son, Davi, cooking WERE the entertainment.
Papa, Mama, and Davi retired after the 2015 performance but, who knows, they might be willing to reopen… for the right price.
“Right, Papa? Right?”
“Just waiting for you, Mama!”
Davi shrugs.
A few links:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tortellini
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Castelfranco_Emilia
Barbara DeVore 