M oj prvi susret sa picom dogodio se davno, u ranom detinjstvu. Tada su se pice u našem južnoitalijanskom gradu kupovale kod jednog čudnog čoveka poznatog kao – Tartarija. Tartarija je pice pekao u krušnoj peći, naravno, a na sebi je imao beli mantil kao kakav lekar. Moglo bi se reći da je bio mrgud i samotnjak, pa je zato izbegavao nezahvalno druženje s mušterija- ma, koje su morale da čekaju napolju dok Tar- tarija radi, a pice im je kroz mali prozor preda- vala njegova punačka žena. Napolju je ulica išla nizbrdo, što znači da niko nije mogao da zaviri u magičnu prosto- riju odakle su pice izlazile. Niko osim mene, zato što sam sedeo na tatinim ramenima i ot- krivao razne tajne: Tartarija je u belom man- tilu imao naviku da vadi picu tokom pečenja, Tradicija pravljenja prave pice i dalje se neguje u Napulju. Kao student bio sam svedok zanimljivog razgovora. Mladić je tražio picu sa šunkom, a prodavac mu je odgovorio: „Ovde toga nema. Za takve perverzije obrati se piceriji preko puta“ My first encounter with pizza happened long ago, in my early childhood. At that time pizza in our southern Italian town was bought from a strange man known as – Tartari. Tarta- ri baked his pizzas in a wood-fired oven, of co- urse, and he wore a long white coat like a do- ctor. You could say that he was a grouch and a loner, and he therefore avoided ungrateful so- cialising with customers, who had to wait out- side while Tartari worked, while the pizza was handed to them through a small window by his buxom wife. Outside the street went downhill, which meant that nobody could peek into the ma- gical room from whence the pizzas came. Nobody except me, because I was sitting on my dad’s shoulders and I discovered vario- us secrets: Tartari, dressed in his long whi- te coat, had a habit of removing the pizza during cooking, to observe it well, virtually analyse it, and then return it, while the pe- The tradition of making proper pizza is still cultivated in the old pizzerias of Naples. As a student, I witnessed an interesting conversation. A young man asked for a pizza with ham, to which the vendor replied: “There’s none of that here. For such perversions go to the pizzeria across the street”
da je dobro posmatra, maltene analizira, pa da je vrati, dok ljudi napolju gunđaju što taj način zgotovljenja dugo traje. Ako bi se neko usudio da se glasno žali na čekanje, Tartarija bi se po- peo na prozor i zapretio: „Ako nećeš da čekaš, možeš slobodno da odeš!“ Pice su se u mom detinjstvu prodava- le u masnim papirima, a slagale su se jedna na drugu. Između dve pice nalazili bi se du- gački i okrugli makaroni, krupniji od špage- ta, takozvani citi. Tada su postojale samo dve vrste pice, sa mocarelom ili bez nje (u to vre- me niko nije jeo picu sa kobasicom, gljivama i drugim sastojcima koji se danas mogu videti u Italiji i inostranstvu). Istina, možda je na pi- cama bilo manje boja, ali bilo je više one sušti- ne samog jela, zbog čega je u Napulju, sto go- dina ranije, pica već bila popularna kao ulična hrana. Uostalom, testo, paradajz i mocarela ostaju tri velike italijanske, a posebno napo- litanske ljubavi, koje ničim, pa ni najboljom šunkom, ne valja kvariti. Tradicija se neguje u Napulju, u starim pi- cerijama među kojima bih izdvojio piceriju Da Mikele . Tamo sam jedne večeri, kao student, bio svedok zanimljivog razgovora. Mladić je tražio picu sa šunkom i gljivama, a prodavac mu je mirno odgovorio: „Ovde toga nema. Za takve perverzije obrati se piceriji preko puta.“ ople outside grumbled that this method of creation took a long time. If someone da- red to complain loudly about having to wait, Tartari would come to the window and thre- aten them: “If you won’t wait, you can feel free to leave!” In my childhood pizzas were sold in gre- asy paper, and stacked one on top of another. Between the two pizzas would be placed long and round macaroni, thicker than spaghetti, so-called citi . Then there were only two types of pizza: with mozzarella or without (at that time nobody ate pizza with sausage, mushro- oms or other ingredients that can be seen to- day in Italy and abroad). It is true that pizzas perhaps had fewer colours back then, but they were more in the essence of the dish, which was why pizza was already popular as street food in Naples a hundred years earlier. After all, dough, tomato and mozzarella remain the three great Italian, and particularly Neapoli- tan, loves, which nothing, not even the best ham, should be allowed to spoil. The tradition is nurtured in Naples, in the old pizzerias, among which I would single out L’Antica Pizzeria da Michele. There one eve- ning, as a student, I witnessed an interesting conversation. A young man asked for a pizza with ham and mushrooms, to which the ven- dor calmly replied: “There’s none of that here. For such perversions go to the pizzeria acro- ss the street”.
Mario Liguori, pisac, publicista, profesor italijanskog na Akademiji u Novom Sadu. Rođen je 1977. godine u Sarnu, na jugu Italije. Diplomirao je komparativne jezike i kulture na Univerzitetu L’Orijentale u Napulju. Piše na italijanskom i na srpskom.
Mario Liguori is a writer, publicist and professor of the Italian language at the Academy in Novi Sad. Born in 1977 in Sarno, southern Italy, he graduated in Comparative Languages and Cultures at the University L’Orientale in Naples. He writes in Italian and Serbian.
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