So, I'm getting a little tired of being corrected when I say the word "bruschetta." Lovely, well-meaning friends are constantly informing me: "It's brew-SHETT-uh, dear..."
Um, no. It's not, actually. Just like pancetta is not "pan-setta" and chianti is not "she-auntie," the word "bruschetta" trips off the tongue to the beat of an Italian drum... And that's a beat where a "CH" followed by an I or E is pronounced as a K, and a "C" followed by and "E" or an "I" sounds like an English CH... (Think "cappuccino" - which is never "cap-poo-SEE-no"). Net-net? It's "Brew-SKETT-uh." I promise.
Best word for practicing this? Cichetti... Cichetti are essentially tapas in Venice. If you try to order "See-SHET-tee" in Venice, I'm not sure what you'll be served. But if you order "Chi-KETT-ee," you'll get some lovely treats.
Long-winded, and pedantic way of telling a story. At our last company retreat here in SF, I decided to make an ill-fated dinner. Nothing grilled right. I forgot most ingredients. Somehow, a few bottles of wine in, no one wanted to play the Biter Trivia that I was so excited to do (although Sara and Tosh would have won). But the Brew-SKETT-uh went over nicely. And the next day, the leftovers were thrown into a panzanella salad, which might be the easiest thing on the planet to make, while ranking up there with the best of foods. So all in all - eating leftovers in wine country - I had nothing to complain about.
Until someone corrected me and very thoughtfully said "Heather. It's Brew-SHETT-uh..."
-Heather... off to plan trips to Italy...
Posted by: Paul | May 02, 2007 at 05:26 AM