Well, not really. Just married to a proud Italian. And — total transparency — his mom’s Irish, but Richie Coldcuts only claims that side on St. Patty’s day. Every other day of the year, he’s Italian! And that comes with (ahem) a little baggage. Like, when we’re watching a cooking show (happens a lot), and the chef is using that Italian cheese, and makes the heinous mistake of saying MOTTS -a-RELLA! Richie sighs disparagingly, then yells at the TV, “are you kidding me?”. Because you know — it’s pronounced MOOTSA-RELL. And remember to roll the ‘R’! That other cheese — ricotta? It’s RI-GOAT-a, not RI-KOTTA. And again, roll the ‘R’.
Do you feel my pain yet? He puffs up with pride if someone comments on a Ferrari, Tumi luggage, Ferragamo shoes, Gucci bag, or Vespa scooter. And responds back “well of course it’s the best, it’s Italian”. He brags that his last name ends in a vowel. I used to think he was just kidding, but now I’m not so sure! But I guess I’m a little jealous. He’s so comfortable in his skin, feels such pride and strong identity with his ethnicity. I know some of my heritage, but not all of it, and it’s spread all over Europe. Not one (or even two) specific countries. So I feel more like a mutt. I don’t have any bragging rights. Has anyone out there done the ethnicity testing determined through your saliva? Maybe I should do that, so I’ll definitely know where I came from. I’m just not sure I want to know. Via my last name, I sometimes imagine myself Italian — and I know how to correctly pronounce all the Italian cheeses! So for now I just say “Hey Mambo, Mambo Italiano”. (I bet you just started singing, didn’t you?)
Does he also say “mopina” and “maschino”!!?
Enjoying your blog!
All of the above!! Thanks for reading!