For an American (especially one brought up in the semi-arid cultural desert of Utah) and without Italian grandparents, eating spaghetti, fettuccine, linguini etc. is not easily done with grace and aplomb. One grasps a forkful, wraps it around a spoon and behold pasta …..yet with pesky little embarrassing strings hanging down from the spoon.
Like all great invetions, this one came to me quite by accident. Eating a dish of spaghetti in our library, waiting for Rachael Maddow to finish her story, already, There happened to be a pair of scissors on the coffee table. Why not, I thought, grabbed the scissors, snapped the offending remainder and with a total absence of mess neatly gobbled down the alluring pasta.
However, I realize that such a solution would be heresy to any proud Italian.
It so happens that the Italian word for scissors is forbici, a word ringing with gusto and charm. I can imagine, with with a boost from the new food editor of the Chronicle wandering into Seven Hils or Frascati and requesting forbici with no lack of cool or sophistication.
So damn funny and appropriate. Almost like needing a flashlight to see you dinner.
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