Here is what kept me so long from publishing a book on my traffic cone project: What is going to happen to the poor fellows that I’ll photograph after publication? However, the project has now reached a critical mass (of insanity) and I feel that I shouldn’t hold back the book any longer. At this point I have 140+ images that made it through several rounds of editing. For the book I’ll use 60 of them. And, before I publish “What It Is Like To Be A Traffic Cone” next week, I thought this makes for a nice occasion to do another week of traffic cones here on this blog.
What Typewriter Do You Use––Part 8
I’ve posted this image earlier, here. This is a more refined version, cleaned up in Photoshop. Now, I know that there’s a vocal tribe in the blogoshpere that acts as if they were heading the Reichskulturkammer and Photoshop were the modern equivalent of “Entartete Kunst”. I am less passionate about this: While I don’t cut and paste (but see no problem with those who do except if it is supposed to be news photography), I feel no need to restrict myself when it comes to changing color or contrast. I am interested in the structure of things, hence I often do enhance contrast quite a bit. And since I am not very interested in distinguishing between “commercial” images like (sort of) this one, and those that make it in my books and projects, many of my images get the same treatment technically.
Spaghetti Pomodoro, By Mara L.
The range of what people consider ‘spaghetti with tomato sauce’ is truly impressive. When I was a student in England, I would shudder at the dinners prepared in the kitchen of the dorm: tins with soft spaghetti would be warmed up, and considered a nice change from the other kind of tinned food that was constantly around, baked beans. Of course, some of my fellow students were too English to eat the latter without the former. I.e, they would pour a tin of baked beans on their plate of tinned spaghetti (also nice on microwaved pizza—grrr!).
Fast forward to my first trip to the US. To some remote place near Washington D.C. There, of course, I made my way to an Italian restaurant. It took me a while to figure out that Spaghetti Pomodoro was called Spaghetti Marinara. The even greater cultural shock came when the plate was actually sitting in front of me.
Fast forward again, to today’s Manhattan, where people have come to refer to spaghetti with tomato sauce as Spaghetti Pomodoro. In my daily life here, I once in a while take real consolation in buying Italian tomatoes, packed in Italy (read the small print on the tin you are buying!), and Italian pasta, packed in Italy. I have a really cheap dinner, and for a quick moment pretend that I am not here.
My favorite versions, however, are entirely out of reach here, and only to be had during my extensive stays at home. As it is well known, the key differences between regional cooking in Italy reside in the fats: butter up north, parmigiano next, then mozzarella, and finally only olive oil. So the true sequence, when you travel from north to south (in order to get to my much-loved island Procida near Naples), is this. Gnocchi with a light tomato-butter sauce while you are still in the mountains. Next come ravioli with tomato-parmigiano. At the tuscan seaside then, you’ll have penne with fresh yellow and red tomato, and cold bits of Mozzarella on top. And then my favorite, spaghetti with slowly cooked grape tomato with parsley and olive oil in Calabria.
Now here’s my historical speculation: In the south, people throw in all kinds of seafood, whatever is available. So maybe, when Italians from the south first made it to the US, they held on to the name of the tomato-plus-seafood version, Spaghetti Marinara, out of homesickness! Even though no bit of mare was going to be part of the dish.