《美食祈禱和戀愛》Chapter 32 (66):品味意大利大綱
Florence is just a weekend, a quick train ride up on a Friday morning to visit my Uncle Terry and Aunt Deb, who have flown in from Connecticut to visit Italy for the first time in their lives, and to see their niece, of course. It is evening when they arrive, and I take them on a walk to look at the Duomo, always such an impressive sight, as evidenced by my uncle's reaction:
我在佛羅倫薩待了一個週末；週五早晨搭火車北上花不了太多時間，去探望我的泰瑞伯父和黛比伯母，他們從康州飛過來，有生以來頭一次來意大利，順便看看我這個侄女。他們在晚間抵達，我帶他們參觀主教堂（Duomo），這始終是令人印象深刻的景點，這可從我伯父的反應看出來："Oy vey!" he says, then pauses and adds, "Or maybe that's the wrong word for praising a Catholic church . . ."
“贊！”他說，然後停頓一下，又說，“或許這麼讚美天主教堂有點用詞失當……”We watch the Sabines getting raped right there in the middle of the sculpture garden with nobody doing a damn thing to stop it, and pay our respects to Michelangelo, to the science museum, to the views from the hillsides around town. Then I leave my aunt and uncle to enjoy the rest of their vacation without me, and I go on alone to wealthy, ample Lucca, that little Tuscan town with its celebrated butcher shops, where the finest cuts of meat I've seen in all of Italy are displayed with a "you know you want it" sensuality in shops across town. Sausages of every imaginable size, color and derivation are stuffed like ladies' legs into provocative stockings, swinging from the ceilings of the butcher shops. Lusty buttocks of hams hang in the windows, beckoning like Amsterdam's high-end hookers. The chickens look so plump and contented even in death that you imagine they offered themselves up for sacrifice proudly, after competing among themselves in life to see who could become the moistest and the fattest. But it's not just the meat that's wonderful in Lucca; it's the chestnuts, the peaches, the tumbling displays of figs, dear God, the figs . . .
我們在雕塑庭園中央觀看薩賓人（Sabines）遭掠奪，卻沒有人能做半點兒事阻止；我們向米開朗基羅致敬，去科學博物館，從城市周圍的山坡觀景。而後我留伯母和伯父獨自享受他們剩下的假期，我則繼續單人行，去了富庶的盧卡（Lucca）；這個托斯卡納小鎮以肉鋪聞名，意大利最好的肉片在全鎮各處的店家展現其"你明白自己想要它"的肉感。各種你能想象的尺寸、顏色、來歷的臘腸，就像女士的腿穿上撩人褲襪般豐滿迷人，懸掛在肉鋪天花板。性感的火腿掛在櫥窗內，猶如阿姆斯特丹的高級娼妓向人招手。死去的雞看起來豐腴而滿足，使你想象它們在世時彼此爭相成爲最肥嫩的雞，然後 引以爲傲地獻出自己。然而盧卡最讓人叫好的不單是肉，還有栗子、桃子、滿坑滿谷的無花果，天啊，無花果……
The town is famous, too, of course, for having been the birthplace of Puccini. I know I should probably be interested in this, but I'm much more interested in the secret a local grocer has shared with me—that the best mushrooms in town are served in a restaurant across from Puccini's birth-place. So I wander through Lucca, asking directions in Italian, "Can you tell me where is the house of Puccini?" and a kind civilian finally leads me right to it, and then is probably very surprised when I say "Grazie," then turn on my heel and march in the exact opposite direction of the museum's entrance, entering a restaurant across the street and waiting out the rain over my serving of risotto ai funghi.
當然，盧卡以普契尼的出生地而聞名。我知道我該對這點感興趣，但我更着迷於當地一家雜貨商跟我分享的祕密——全鎮煮得最好的草菇位於普契尼出生地對街的餐廳。於是我在盧卡到處逛，說意大利語問路：“請告訴我普契尼之家在哪？”一位親切的市民最後直接領我去那裏，他肯定大吃一驚，因爲我道過謝後，轉身朝博物館入口的反方向走去，進了街對面的餐廳點了risotto ai funghi（野菇燉飯）等雨停。I don't recall now if it was before or after Lucca that I went to Bologna—a city so beautiful that I couldn't stop singing, the whole time I was there: "My Bologna has a first name! It's P-R-E-T-T-Y." Traditionally Bologna—with its lovely brick architecture and famous wealth—has been called "The Red, The Fat and The Beautiful." (And, yes, that was an alternate title for this book.) The food is definitely better here than in Rome, or maybe they just use more butter. Even the gelato in Bologna is better (and I feel somewhat disloyal saying that, but it's true). The mushrooms here are like big thick sexy tongues, and the prosciutto drapes over pizzas like a fine lace veil draping over a fancy lady's hat. And of course there is the Bolognese sauce, which laughs disdainfully at any other idea of a ragù.
我現在記不得是在去盧卡之前或之後才前往博洛尼亞——此城之美，使我在那裏的整段時間都不斷在哼歌："波隆那的姓氏，叫作美麗！"傳統上，波隆那——擁有漂亮的磚造建築以及聞名的財富——被稱作"紅色、肥胖、美麗"的城市（這三個形容詞，也可以拿來當做本書的書名）。這兒的食物比 羅馬明顯好得多，或者只是奶油用得較多的關係。甚至博洛尼亞的冰也好得多（這麼說使我覺得有點對不住，但這是事實）。這裏的草菇就像厚大的性感舌頭，煙燻火腿覆蓋在比薩餅上，就像精緻的蕾絲面紗掩在漂亮的女帽上。當然還有波隆那肉醬，不屑地嘲笑其他任何一種肉醬。It occurs to me in Bologna that there is no equivalent in English for the term buon appetito. This is a pity, and also very telling. It occurs to me, too, that the train stops of Italy are a tour through the names of the world's most famous foods and wines: next stop, Parma . . . next stop, Bologna . . . next stop, approaching Montepulciano . . . Inside the trains there is food, too, of course—little sandwiches and good hot chocolate. If it's raining outside, it's even nicer to snack and speed along. For one long ride, I share a train compartment with a good-looking young Italian guy who sleeps for hours through the rain as I eat my octopus salad. The guy wakes up shortly before we arrive in Venice, rubs his eyes, looks me over carefully from foot to head and pronounces under his breath: "Carina." Which means: Cute.
我在博洛尼亞突然想到，英語中沒有相當於“buon appetito”的用詞。這很可惜，也很說明問題所在。我還想到，意大利的火車停靠站帶你經過全世界最出名的食物名與酒名：下一站，帕爾瑪（Parma）……下一站，博洛尼亞……下一站，即將抵達蒙特普齊亞諾（Montepulciano）……火車內當然也有食物——小三明治和好喝的熱可可。若窗外下雨，吃着點心全速前進更是一大快事。有回搭長途火車，我和一個好看的意大利年輕男子同坐一個包廂，他在雨中睡了好幾個小時，我則吃着我的章魚沙拉。男子在我們即將抵達威尼斯的時候醒來，揉揉眼睛，把我從頭到腳仔細看了一遍，低聲說“Carina”。是“可愛”的意思。"Grazie mille," I tell him with exaggerated politeness. A thousand thanks.
“我以誇大的客氣語調回應他。”萬分感謝。
