Slurp!

Today

On Sunday we had a lovely meal with Beatrice and Neil at Carluccio's in Brighton. Beatrice asked for a spoon to help her on her way with her spaghetti Carbonara. I have to admit to making a snooty remark, quoting my Italian teacher - "spoons are for children". After reminding me about her malfunctioning right shoulder, Beatrice rather sensibly ignored my remark and got on with enjoying her food.

In My Day

Pasta didn't really feature in the store cupboard at all when we were children. There was "macaroni" which was sometimes turned into a rather solid macaroni cheese, but that was all.

I think I first became aware of spaghetti when I saw "Lady and the Tramp" which has a scene in which the two dogs are dining together in a New York restaurant and sharing a plate of spaghetti. The slurp their way inelegantly through this impossible-looking meal. The "aah!" moment occurring when they start at the opposite ends of the same piece of spaghetti, arriving romantically in the middle. (What a silly film!)

So when did I become able to be snooty about how people eat their spaghetti? As part of my great 1969 hitchhiking adventure I and my friend Angela decided to travel by ferry from Brindisi to Greece. The ferry was an overnight crossing, leaving at about eleven pm. As the youth hostel closed during the day we found ourselves at rather a loose end. Brindisi is (or was then) rather a small, second-rate port, the weather was hot and dry and there didn't seem much to do. Desperate to get out of the sun we wandered into a little dry park. This was even worse as local youngsters indulged in the pastime of pinching English girls' bottoms. As I batted away yet another fifteen-year-old, I caught the attention of a young couple with a couple of children and pushchair. They nodded sympathetically and invited us back to their apartment. We accepted gratefully and climbed the stairs into their tiny flat. They spoke no English and I had very little Italian but we got on fine; understanding that baby number four was on the way (how were they all going to fit in?).

And they gave us spaghetti to eat. A heaping plateful simply dressed with oil and cheese. Amid much laughter they taught me how to eat my pasta with just a fork; a skill I have never forgotten. Don't pick up too much at one time, is at the heart of it.

These kind people also gave us a picnic of cheese, salami, bread and olives to eat on the boat. I sent them a card from Crete and have always treasured up that sweet interlude.

But, actually, who cares how you eat your pasta, so long as you don't slurp!