A Revised History Of Pasta

While Marco Polo, a Venetian, is usually given credit for discovering noodles in China, recent study suggests that Italian pasta in all its glorious types was really discovered in Rome almost a century before, and rather by accident, with a remarkably improbable epicurean called Julius Amplonius, with the capable help of an invading barbarian called Klunk, The Great.

The momentous event happened one afternoon when this portly patrician was dining in a chic restaurant just from the Roman Forum. He was savoring a sip of wine from Tuscany when a bunch of alerted citizens came running by, screeching, ” The barbarians are coming! The barbarians are coming!

Amplonius had witnessed their arrival before, and he had made peace with the ancient intelligence, Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow you may be from wine and food. It was by such Stoicism the wise were able to witness the destruction of the Roman Empire while preserving a somewhat calm life. So, with a knowing smile, Julius just raised his glass ahead of the fleeing crowd.

What are you going to perform, Julie, just sit and eat? A taxpayer who knew him asked.

Why not? He responded. Im hungry. Not to mention starving. With that, he cried in a different taste of this Tuscan red.

Youre mad! A speeding buddy called. Run, Julie! Run!

Only a waitress who doubled as a temptress arrived with Julies lunch, which might be called a plate of proto-pasta. It consisted of a flat, round piece of dough that hung just a little over the margins of this plate. It had a chopped tomato sitting at the center of it, with just one chunk of parmesan cheese beside it, and around both was a spoonful of fragrant basil leaves.

Enjoy your plano, she said, putting the dish down, for that’s the name that the proto-pasta was understood by.

Thank you, stunning, Julius told me, and gave her a pinch.

Oh, you silly man, she replied, and, looking about, looked nervous. Would you do me a favor, enjoy, and shut out your bill today?

No problem, you sex kitty, he said, and reached his handbag. He took enough Roman coinage to include a generous suggestion. Keep the shift, he told her, and pursed his lips expectantly.

Thank you, sweetie, she stated gave him a more luscious but ever-so-brief kiss. Then she hurried off after the other fleeing citizens.

Julius calmly picked up a knife and fork and began to eat his proto-pasta.

As he cut off and savored his first sting, in hurried a huge, fur-covered barbarian, with a leather shield and also the fateful sword with which he would help Julius find pasta in lots of the kinds we like to this day, from lasagna to angel hair.

Uh! He grunted, and lifted his sword.

Julius continued to float. Uh! Uh! That the barbarian raged, for the sound uh comprised a lot of their regular variety of his proto-language. To draw the interest of their unperturbed diner, he swung his sword at a circle and just occurred to whack off the head of a statue of this great Augustus. It crashed into the marble flooring.

Julius couldnt help but see that the decapitation and, placing a leaf of basil onto his tonguesaid, That wasnt very nice. I kind of enjoyed that particular statue.

The barbarian could not, of course, understand a phrase. In an effort to set a bit of good will, at least long enough to allow him to complete his mealJulius held up his bottle of wine. Like any vino?

Huh-Uh! The barbarian managed to state.

Satisfy yourself, Julie told him. Got a name?

The barbarian stared at him without understanding.

Name? Julius replicated, pointing to himself then at the barbarian to exemplify the point of his question.

Klunk, the barbarian stated.

I may have guessed, Julius commented.

Klunk, The Great, the barbarian continued, with some intellectual work.

Great for you, Julius told himand put his hand out. Im Julius, The Roman, also Called Julie, The Ample. Have a chair.

Huh-uh! I’m conqueror conqueror of Rome! Klunk managed to state.

Great for you! Julie told himand couldnt resist inquiring the most challenging question. Are you certain you can afford the upkeep? Its an expensive town to maintain.

What is upkeep? Klunk wanted to understand.

Youll figure out, Julius advised him. Now, come on. Have a chair. Youve had a challenging day. He then pointed to his dish and indicated a reluctant willingness to discuss some of his food. And enjoy any plano.

Klunk looked down in the plate, and asked,” What is plano?

You do not understand? Julie asked. Where are you?

Other side of the Alps, Klunk managed to escape.

Oh, no wonder, Julie replied, and chose to teach the deprived soul. See. That is a plate. Ever hear about a plate?

Plate?

Instead of eating off the desk or the floor, you consume off of a plate.

Uh, Klunk said, with apparent comprehension.

On the plate we put a flat piece of boiled dough, known as plano, Julius continued, lifting up the border with his fork to show. Then we put all kinds of goodies in addition to it. In this case, a tomato, a piece of cheese, and basil leaves.

Uh-huh. Klunk confessed.

All you need to do is choose a knife and fork, Julius clarified, choosing up the utensils gradually, so Klunk wouldnt mistake his intentions and send his head rolling the manner of the fantastic Augustuss marble head. Then you cut off a piece. He went through the process and took a bite. Ah, delicious! Sure you wont have some?

Uh-huh, Klunk said, holding his groundand replicated with a while, Plano.

Superb! Julius exclaimed. You’ll be a real Roman in almost no time!

Klunk a Roman? The barbarian reacted, clearly insulted, and raised his sword high above Julius. Then, unexpectedly, he brought the sword down on the plate and then cut on the plano right in half. But what do you call it? He was somehow able to inquire.

Julius looked down in the two half-moons, also said, I believe Ill call that one big agnolotti. He then took another sip of wine and cried at Klunk.

Incensed in his inability to frighten Juliushe lifted his sword and whacked the plate four occasions. What do you call it now?

Julius examined it, and said, This Ill telephone lasagne. With that, he took a bite and savored it.

Now angry, Klunk attacked the plate , and required, What do you call it today?

Julius, regardless of his indifference to fate, was a bit shaken by all the clatter, also said, I’ll name it linguine.

Needless to sayKlunk swung his sword in the plate with a unprecedented volley of strokes. What is it today?

Julius examined the mishmash on his plate. By today, the plano was cut into thin stripsthe tomato was first diced, and the cheese was grated. After some deliberation, Julius announced, You left what I will call spaghetti. Still remaining unexpectedly calm, at least on the exterior, Julius took his fork and then wrapped a few braid around it. He then took a bite. Delicious! And fun, too, he told Klunk.

Enraged at his apparently imperturbable true Roman, the barbarian now slashed in the contents of this plate before his arms turned into a veritable blur. Then, short of breath, he sighed, Tell me exactly what you name that.

Julius looked closely in the mayhem in his plate. Now, the pasta was too lean as he would imagine this, and also the tomato sauce, then cheese, and basil were all mixed together. It’s so thin I believe I will name it angel hairloss.

Klunk became unexpectedly interested and bent toward Julius. Angel hair? What for? You no denying. You fat Roman.

Considering how finely the plano was now sliced, Julius could not imagine how much longer it might invite the attentions of Klunk and imagined his own neck might well be the next thing of the barbarians fury. Ever the clever Roman, he discovered , as a consequence of Klunks effort, his belly was showing a little.

Julie was, of course, also conscious of the legendary weakness of this barbarian shield, rather than the metallic shield that accounted for a lot of the impenetrability of this storied Roman phalanx.

He pretended to move his knife to the last remaining decent-size item of tomato, stating, No, my friend, I’m not an angel. With that, he quickly stabbed the somewhat weary Klunk, also added, But youre going to become one.

Klunk looked down in his sudden, fatal wound with shock and fell to the floor with a thud. His head knocked the table and, even if Juliuss hands werent so quick, the movement would have bothered his glass of wine.

Leaning back and enjoying a sip, he said, I believe Im gonna call all these things I discovered after my beautiful girlfriend, Pastina. He then wrapped a little on his fork and then cried in a different mouthful, musing, I just love Pastina.

Each of the names Julius devised that day, with the undoubted aid of this ill-fated barbarian Klunk, have come down through the centuries without modification, except for the categorical appellation, that use would finally abbreviate into the more familiar word pasta.