An Ode To Nonna
'Magnaccioni' Book Review
I was first introduced to my Nonna’s cooking when I was a child.
To me, it felt very much like a normal pastime. Whenever I visited we would sit down together and have a big bowl of pasta. It was ready-made of course, ready to be dished out for whatever visitors would come. In Italian culture, food is central to family. When I knew I was going to my Nonna’s, I purposely did not eat because I knew saying, “No Nonna, I’m fine, I’ve eaten already”, would ring on deaf ears; words that shalt not be spoken to an Italian. Hence, a steaming, hot bowl of pasta was put in front of me. This was repeated, every time we had a visit. Of course, I would happily oblige when I knew she would give me free rein of the sweetie drawer later, filled with Quality Streets (where I continually picked out the toffee fingers).
I started this blog post off with this story, to provide a foundation for what Anne Pia’s book Magnaccioni is all about.
Magnaccioni translates into Italian as ‘people who eat well to live well’. As Anne Pia writes in her book: “If you like food you are trustworthy, wholesome and genuine. You are vibrant, a lover of all that life offers, someone to be invited and enjoyed”. I feel like my Nonna would have approved of this, with pastas for all sorts of occasions; tomato and basil during the week, followed by steak and salad.
Italians really can eat.
Antipasti is followed by pasta, a second course like fish or steak, sides (lots of bread to mop up whatever sauce is left behind) and dessert. Sundays were tomato meatballs and on special occasions, my Mum can happily recall having pasta with tomatoes, smaller meatballs and egg.
My favourite thing about watching her cook or potter around the kitchen was the shuffle she used to have, her slippers on the laminate floor. Or her small but tactile Italian hands that used to mush up her bread to sweep up the mixture of tomato sauce, parmesan and olive oil mix that was left. Only the best ingredients were used, which meant weekly trips to Valvona & Crolla, for Italian necessities – Prosciutto, Parmesan and Olive Oil. Nothing else will do, of course.
Anne Pia’s book is a reflection of her childhood, growing up with her Grandma, a Lazian dedicated to the fulfilment of nutritious and well-put-together food that was fresh and served from kitchen to table. It is about as much of the Italian philosophy as It is the recipes dispensed throughout.
It is a dedicated memoir that is linked to the nostalgia of food, but most importantly; a time, a place, a feeling. It is an ode to Italians that have made homes elsewhere, such as in Scotland.
No doubt, showing my Nonna this book (whom is sadly no longer with us), I’m sure she would have loudly shouted ‘Siiiiii’ flicking through the pages.
Stephanie Centola
This review is part of our on going series of in-house reviews, showcasing how passionate we are about the books we publish.
