Taken from the other side of the room, your question has a very consistent answer: it is almost always a noun, and almost always something they had already eaten. Nobody falls in love with a verb.
The menu is the first Italian text most visitors read all the way to the end, and it teaches better than a textbook for a simple reason. Every word is attached to a thing that arrives on a plate, and you learn them in the only order that really matters, the order in which you want them.
In Milan there is a joke on top of that, because half our menu is not Italian at all. Busecca (tripe), mondeghili (meatballs made from the leftover boiled meat), rüsumada (egg yolk beaten with sugar and red wine). Whoever orders those has just spoken five words of Milanese without noticing, and those are the words that survive longest.
One thing we see every day, and it fits exactly what you say about being fluent only inside your own subject: people order in Italian and switch to English the second something goes wrong. So a menu teaches you the language of wanting, not the language of complaining. As limitations go, that is a good one to have.
Giulia, I really relate to this. I was 8 years old, trying to learn Italian because my father’s family was from Sicily. The stories, the sense of camaraderie and community with other immigrant neighbors and family appealed to me. But after my first time in Italy I fell in love with the music. Lucio Battisti, Giovanni Allevi, Giorgia and Elisa. Anch’io e sogno are beautiful words to me. I love to read cookbooks in Italian but I am not fluent. The end of summer also hits me with the sadness of impermanence and nostalgia. It’s very bittersweet! Thank you so much for sharing this post.
The very first time I heard the word Sbaglio (it even looked like a mistake) I knew Italian was for me…! My paternal grandparents were from Calabria and Sicily…but I could not understand the dialect…I took Italian in college and then spent a year in Rome my Junior year. My grandparents could not understand my Italian at all!
Until I was seven I spoke both English, my native language, and a Calabrian dialect spoken by my maternal grandparents and great grandparents. We lived in Wisconsin and when we moved to Missouri, I no longer spoke Italian. As an adult, my longing to speak Italian again has taken on many forms, from classes to visiting Italy numerous times( twice in the past ten months, one was a food tour based in Parma). My older daughter loves all things Italian, having visited numerous times and now speaks fluent Italian. My grandson says he would like to speak Italian and I’m currently looking for a tutor who teaches children and teens. You asked for a favorite word. Well, mine is pistacchio. I love the sound of it more than the English pronunciation, and I love the nuts and bake with them often.
My favorite Italian word is Perfeto!!
Taken from the other side of the room, your question has a very consistent answer: it is almost always a noun, and almost always something they had already eaten. Nobody falls in love with a verb.
The menu is the first Italian text most visitors read all the way to the end, and it teaches better than a textbook for a simple reason. Every word is attached to a thing that arrives on a plate, and you learn them in the only order that really matters, the order in which you want them.
In Milan there is a joke on top of that, because half our menu is not Italian at all. Busecca (tripe), mondeghili (meatballs made from the leftover boiled meat), rüsumada (egg yolk beaten with sugar and red wine). Whoever orders those has just spoken five words of Milanese without noticing, and those are the words that survive longest.
One thing we see every day, and it fits exactly what you say about being fluent only inside your own subject: people order in Italian and switch to English the second something goes wrong. So a menu teaches you the language of wanting, not the language of complaining. As limitations go, that is a good one to have.
Giulia, I really relate to this. I was 8 years old, trying to learn Italian because my father’s family was from Sicily. The stories, the sense of camaraderie and community with other immigrant neighbors and family appealed to me. But after my first time in Italy I fell in love with the music. Lucio Battisti, Giovanni Allevi, Giorgia and Elisa. Anch’io e sogno are beautiful words to me. I love to read cookbooks in Italian but I am not fluent. The end of summer also hits me with the sadness of impermanence and nostalgia. It’s very bittersweet! Thank you so much for sharing this post.
The very first time I heard the word Sbaglio (it even looked like a mistake) I knew Italian was for me…! My paternal grandparents were from Calabria and Sicily…but I could not understand the dialect…I took Italian in college and then spent a year in Rome my Junior year. My grandparents could not understand my Italian at all!
Until I was seven I spoke both English, my native language, and a Calabrian dialect spoken by my maternal grandparents and great grandparents. We lived in Wisconsin and when we moved to Missouri, I no longer spoke Italian. As an adult, my longing to speak Italian again has taken on many forms, from classes to visiting Italy numerous times( twice in the past ten months, one was a food tour based in Parma). My older daughter loves all things Italian, having visited numerous times and now speaks fluent Italian. My grandson says he would like to speak Italian and I’m currently looking for a tutor who teaches children and teens. You asked for a favorite word. Well, mine is pistacchio. I love the sound of it more than the English pronunciation, and I love the nuts and bake with them often.