Whenever I was invited to share a meal with an Italian family, I was afraid of offending my hosts by not cleaning my plate. It seemed the more I ate, the more food was offered. Has this happened to you?

Whenever I was invited to share a meal with an Italian family, I was afraid of offending my hosts by not cleaning my plate. It seemed the more I ate, the more food was offered. Has this happened to you?

Oh yes, on more than one occasion! :eek: Eventually you learn to say "No thank you."
The problem is that a meal consists of so many courses and you never know if the one you are eating is the last! The trick is to pace yourself, try a little of everything and compliment the chef... a lot!! :D

It's funny how this becomes an issue across different cultures. In some Asian countries, especially China, an empty plate or bowl is immedieatly filled. But if you leave a few grains of rice it signifies that you are full.

It Italy however, Nonna's going to keep serving you until say something. When in doubt copy what the other guests are doing. If they are like my family you'll know when they are full when they slide their chair a bit from the table and lean back with that "I can't believe I ate the whole thing" look on their faces. If the cook comes around again pat your belly in a manner that explains you're about a minute from a food induced coma:D

A full belly and a look of satiety is as good a compliment as any.

Hi Martha:
Food is so important -well I had no idea until I lived there. I don't know if it's from WWII when there was no food and people barely survived, or if it's because the food is so dang good that it really is worth talking about.
Sometimes I fast for spiritual reasons, and did I cause trouble at home with the in-laws? My mother in law has an incredibly thick Roman accent and it always sounded like I pissed her off when I didn't eat. Or she'd revert to making fun of me. But in the end, she and I were a lot of alike and we always made amends.
Another thing that I couldn't help but notice was, at the tavola.. the conversation was about -food. Oh my gosh it was just so funny; but these people love their food, and again it is worth the conversation. Always fresh, never ate leftovers (which surprised me), very very picky about their pasta - 4 faces in the steam of the pasta pot at one time making sure the pasts is just right. And these weren't Mama, they were my father in law, miro my husband and his 2 brothers. I had to tone down my surprise because I didn't want to offend them. Anyway that's been my experience, and it was a good one. :D

The first time I was in Italy, I was an idiot. At least about one thing.

I stayed with a woman named Maria who had a boyfriend named Antonio... from Sicily... a much much older boyfriend... with a wedding ring... and a Rolex... and $5,000 suits... who visited her once a month for three or four days while he did some kind of business... late at night.

He invited me to dinner with them one night and I happily went along. I looked at the menu and protested - dinners started at 50 Euros (or the lira equivalent). He patted me on the hand like a chid, ordered for me, and all was fine.

Until we started talking about horses. He spoke very little English, I spoke very little Italian. He spoke some French, I spoke a tiny bit of Spanish. Somehow we managed to have a very loud argument about the merits of horses - he thought they were stupid beasts fit only for eating with a nice chianti, I thought they were beautiful animals and was horrified that he would eat them.

We argued. It got louder and louder. I should have had a clue when Maria's face got whiter and whiter. I was oblivious. When she finally reached over to touch my arm tentatively I sputtered into silence and glanced at Antonio who, I suddenly realized, looked ready to kill me. Literally. I shut up.

He kept buying me food, I kept eating. I finally could not eat another bite... but when I waved away the next course I got 'the look' from Maria. I ate more. And kept eating. And drinking the wine.

We finally finished our meal (barely before I went into that coma). The bill ended up being something like 450 Euros for three of us.

Being a liberated (stupid) woman from America, I offered to pay for my dinner. That's when the real fight started... I didn't understand a word of what he yelled at me for the next minute, and I made it out alive but I learned my lesson. When a rich man from Sicily wants to buy me dinner, I should let him. And I won't talk about horses.

Teresa

I quite like horses, but in fairness, they're not a lot different to cows. Horse meat was fairly common in the UK during the war, and, as Micio says, during the war in Europe, food was scarce. My Father-in-Law, who sadly passed away last year, cooked the most beautiful meals, and never wasted anything (this attitude due entirely to the extreme lack of food during the war) - one thing that I have learnt from him is that you do not throw away things that are edible. Coming from England, where (according to a very recent news report) we throw away 40% of the food bought, I am only too happy to carry on his legacy.

However, I'm not so proud that I won't accept a meal from Antonio if he's reading (and I won't argue about paying!)........ 450 euros buys some lovely grub and a good wine!!!

I agree that as far as strictly for a food source, horses are a lot like cattle.

However (and there's an entire thread on the Forum somwhere about what is acceptable to eat... I think it originally started with the question of animal abuse and what constitutes that), horses (for me) really are qualitatively different than cows. They are smarter, they can be friends with each other, they can be great companions for people, great therapy, and help with work of all kinds.

Having said that, though... if someone spent time to cook me a meal, and it turned out to be horsemeat, I would not refuse it. I think that courtesy and the 'laws' of hospitatlity and kindness dictate that.

And next time I am offered a 450 Euro meal, especially in Italy and most especially by a rich Sicilian, you bet I'll jump at the chance!

Teresa