by MARCELLA CARBORUNDUREM-McVORTVORT, Alternate Reality News Service Food and Drink Writer
Lineups for Chef Ernie Pulcinella’s restaurant, Commedia dell’Farte, often go around the block, over several parked cars, down the first base line of a small sports stadium (which makes game nights awkward), in and out of a men’s bathroom in a gas station (which makes polite conversation for the women in line awkward), through an FBI safehouse (which really makes protecting informants on mob bosses awkward), in a Henry Moore sculpture and out an Escher painting, and up the stairs of an abandoned lighthouse. The reason?
“The wings they serve at unhappy hour,” answered Isabella.
“I was getting hungry sitting in an FBI safehouse,” responded Il Capitano, “and somebody in the lineup mentioned the wings they serve at unhappy hour and I knew I just had to try them.”
“I had heard rumours that dirt in food is actually good for you,” replied Flavio. “And, I thought, What the hell? It can’t be any worse than piranha pie!“
Chef Pulcinella’s duck a l’orange with minced pear slices and sweet truffle fries is so exquisite that patrons are willing to overlook the dish’s gritty texture. Very gritty texture. Texture that would remind you of eating dirt when you were a child.
Because, of course, the dish is made with dirt, as is all of the restaurant’s food.
The Hygiene Theory (another word for a scientific rumour) has long held that, in living in highly undirty environments, human beings have not been exposed to germs that would inoculate them from some illnesses. This is being challenged by the Town Germ Country Germ Hypothesis (a different word for a scientific rumour), which states that hoity-toity germs in the big city have grown soft and no longer offer the protections that their rough country cousins do.
“My authentic dishes are made with only the finest dirt from a soil farm in southern Italy,” Chef Pulcinella boasted.
“Pfah!” Butch Arlecchino, rival head chef at Life Is No Joke, Mon Sewer, pfahed. “The farm where he gets his soil lies to the west of a mountain range and only gets sun for three hours and twenty-seven minutes a day. What good can grow in that? I will tell you – nothing. Nothing good can grow in that! My soil comes from a farm in the Alsace region of Austro-Hungary, so you know it is good for you!”
When told of Chef Arlecchino’s pfahing, Chef Pulcinella pointed to his head and said, “You see this tall white hat? It’s a pretty hat, no? I had it surgically attached to my head to show how dedicated I am to chefdom! Did…my rival do that? No. No, I do not believe he did. So…who knows how took now, eh? Eh, eh?”
“He makes a good point,” agreed Doctor Dottore, a medical professional at the Unnamed Curative Arts Academy and Bad Habits Teaching Hospital. “The operation involved a mallet anasthetic and a dozen staples – only a madman – ahem, man mad for his profession would undergo such a thing.”
When asked why he didn’t just use the necessary germ cultures instead of the actual dirt, Chef Pulcinella screwed up his face and grunted, “How would that be authentic?”
That’s a good question, considering that rumours have circulated for the last couple of years that the Commedia dell’Farte does not get its dirt from a soil farm in Italy, that, in fact, it comes from the head chef’s backyard.
“That only happened once!” Chef Pulcinella shouted. “And, only because the shipment of dirt from Italy was held up at the border! What was I supposed to do, disappoint my customers? No! No, sir! I would never do that! The key to a successful restaurant is being able to improvise, and I improvised the hell out of the menu that day!”
Besides, Chef Pulcinella added, he knew for a fact that Chef Arlecchino had once served Boeuf Bourguignon a la Grit with – shudder – worms.
“THAT…IS…A…LIE!” Chef Arlecchino roared. “Worms? definitely not! That would be disgusting!”
“Oh, those guys,” chuckled restaurant critic Ivor Pantalone. “They’ve been going at it for over 300 years, now. The truth is that neither of them is an especially good cook – they put dirt in the dishes long before it was fashionable! Still, I will say this: Chef Arlecchino has a good sense of what wine goes with food containing dirt.”
What wine would that be?
“Something earthy.”
“Oh, and, children?” Chef Pulcinella added. “Never, NEVER, NEVER have a chef’s hat surgically attached to your head. It itches, it scabs over, it gets infected and then it gets really gross!”