When my husband tries to put Parmesan on his pizza I want to bite his head off slice off and get it over to the righteous side – the one that eats pizza correctly.
I have to restrain myself from leaping across the table and yelling inches from his face with hands flapping up and down, “how many years have you been married to an Italian woman?”
But I don’t engage him physically. I don’t really stand a chance. He’s 6.1 and 220 pounds of pure steel. I’m 5.5 AND A HALF (the half makes me much taller than a mere 5.5) and 118 pounds of pure petitness – or at least that’s how I see myself.
So, I wage my war more strategically and hide the Parmesan in places where he’d never go, our laundry room and our bill’s basket. This means that sometimes he eats pizza the right way without adding that cheap Parmesan on top or that I find old Parmesan when I have to actually do some laundry or pay overdue bills.
But I can’t let it go. Seriously people, Parmesan on Pizza?
We don’t do that in Italy. I know, our pizza is different, thin crust with soft mozzarella cheese that melts in your mouth, but even when we eat the American pizza we don’t add Parmesan or other awful concoctions to it.
It’s a matter of principle because we are a stratified culture, one that doesn’t mix different categories meaning Parmesan is in another category than Pizza, though it may appear they are related because they one is a type of cheese the other has cheese, but that’s for the untrained eye. Parmesan and Pizza are very different beings.
I know, it’s not easy living with a food purist like me. My husband resists my attempts at keeping some type food order but I think I’m winning this war.
It’s a give and take, Parmesan, Pizza, and Italian wife, a melting pot right in his own southern backyard. He should be grateful that I’m here to teach him about pure food categories, or at least pretend he is…
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I’m Puerto Rican, so I totally understand how not only adjusting to the military is tough, but when you have another variable, it makes it even harder. Husband just came back, and this deployment sucked! Thank God there is a military family, even though its hard to find friends, when you do it’s awesome to know someone will hand over the Parmesan.
p.s. Wanna die? Back home we eat lasagna with rice!!!!!! Wrong. I know.
That’s so funny Jo! Know Lasagna with Rice sounds good!
It’s drowning the pizza in parmesan that seems crazy to me.
Thank you for stopping by Ovolina! I’m off to your blog! Glad the deployment is done with
My wife likes fried fish and spaghetti. There is no way to compromise with that.
Fried fish and spaghetti sounds …hum interesting? But you’re right there is no way to compromise with that
I thought all Italians put Parmesan and toppings on their pizza. But I must be wrong. Nice blog, came here via military.com. We’ll come back soon.
Are you talking about the parmesan cheese in the green can? Or the real kind that actually tastes good?
The one in the green container, the one that doesn’t taste so good….
You’ll be glad to know there’s no parmesan on pizza in this house. Although I do have to make ready the garlic and oregano for the rest of my family. My husband even has my 2yo wanting it now.
My husband and I come from opposite ends of our state and we learned very early on there are a lot of food diversities between the two. Some we like, some we don’t, and some he just has to live with because I’m the one who cooks dinner. I think the biggest food adjustment for us was having to remember to make him rice to go with his chili. I’d never ever seen anyone eat chili over rice before.
Oh, ugh. Green can parmesan. Is it really even cheese?
I’m like Amanda. In our house, it’s dh who does the compromising cause I do the cooking…unless he picks it up on his way home and then he gets to pick. ;o)
I have made many adjustments and compromises in my life. Or, at least, what I thought were adjustments and compromises. Some days they seem more like settling and giving in to accommodate someone else in my life. On those days, it is hard to see the reverse side where there may have adjustments or compromises made on my behalf. It seems I am having a string of “those days” I am unable as yet to find a way to break free from.
BTW, not to send you running screaming out of the states, but I’ve developed an of love of pizza dipped in ranch dressing. I know – AAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH! ;o)
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