#377 Macaroni

I heard a national commercial the other day for an establishment called Romano’s Macaroni Grill. The menu items they described seemed to put them firmly in the Italian restaurant category but with the added incentive of steaks and chops. But their name? America seems to have gone all schmegehgee when it comes to conflating nationalities in our food. The Jack-in-the Box croissandwich is a fine example. So I was interested to see the word macaroni popping up again. Back in the late 80s, America went through a cultural convulsion with their noodular dishes. All of a sudden, everything that bore any resemblance to a noodle was called pasta. Pasta thisa, pasta thata, if it was made of flour and could be boiled in water it was pasta. Macaroni was about the only noodular thing that emerged relatively unscathed, although “pasta and cheese” was much bandied about in certain social circles. Mac-and-cheese is of course the quintessential American dish. Of all the imports and transmutations from the Italian peninsula, this one stuck hardest to the American palate. Even now, in BBQ joints across the land, one of the classic sides of which you can pick two is almost always mac-and-cheese. We know that macaroni is an Italian word. And it’s fun to say. “Elbow pasta” always sounds like a contortionist at the circus for some reason. And frankly, I’m not a big one for naming food after body parts. That’s why words like ham and hock and white meat and roundsteak always make me more comfortable that flank steak, rump roast, and the weirdly confusing pork butt shoulder. To me the Italian connotation to macaroni came late in life. I learned about Mac-and-Cheese and macaroni long before I knew there was such a place as Italy. And almost the first song I learned was Yankee Doodle—which certainly begged for a rhyme with noodle, but instead called it macaroni. So now we’ve come full circle in the pasta wars. A place is calling itself a Romano’s Macaroni Grill. Hmm. The one way I’ve never had macaroni is grilled. To even contemplate the clean-up raises blisters on my steel wool. Romano is an Italian cheese. I’m guessing the company is trying to project the flair of Italy but the hominess of America. Have a little taste of the forbidden but don’t give up on the steaks and apple pie. Romano—purely Italian; Macaroni—half breed; and Grill—red-blooded truck driving American. Grill sounds as American as ex-country singer turned sausage-maker Jimmy Dean. The other patty. Jimmy Dean pure pork sausage. Why, you don’t get much more American than that. I heard yesterday that he’s caved into corporate food trend analysis. His newest microwavable breakfast offering? The Jimmy Dean sausage breakfast croissant. Wow. If pork sausage can bring Jimmy Dean and the French together, can world peace be far behind? Peace through Pork. If only everyone ate it.
America, ya gotta love it.