In case you hadn’t noticed when you could fry a fried egg on the sidewalk, summer has arrived suddenly and without warning. And with it, traditions as beautiful as sleeping without sheets, making marathons of series while trying to survive the extreme temperatures and, of course, abandon the stew and welcome the star dish of any self-respecting summer: the fruit salad. A simple dish (although it requires its technique, eh, don’t believe it) that we have all taken for granted that it comes from the same country. But, oh, surprise. There’s a trick.
Macedonia tastes like nothing
The mixture of fruits that in other countries is called “tutti frutti”, “tizana” or a very dull “fruit salad” comes from the fourth century BC, when Alexander the Great consolidated a Macedonian empire full of small countries, cultures and languages that somehow functioned as a hodgepodge. Something like a gathering of neighbors condemned to understand each other.
It is not that at that time the king entertained himself mixing fruits: the invention of the dish comes from the 18th century, when in France they began to call “Macedonia” to absolutely any mixture, culinary or not. To understand each other: a children’s class would be a fruit salad and a stew too. In the end, what went down in history was this fruit mixture. Now, please: no sugar or butter. I know, I know you’re thinking, “Who puts butter in fruit salad? Well, who is it going to be: France.
It is not the only food that has nothing to do with its country of origin: it is difficult to find artisan Neapolitan pastries, probably the best breakfast in the history of pastries, in Naples. There you can have all the pizza you want, but not too much pain au chocolat. So, what’s with the name? Well, surprisingly enough, it was a way of making fun of the queen in the 16th century.
In 1504, Isabella I of Castile received the title of Queen of Naples, so she began to be known as such in popular terms: the shape and fatness of the dessert did the rest. To this we must add that in a couplet of the obscene poem ‘Carajicomedia’ there is talk of a “Neapolitan” in a tone, let’s say, relaxed: “The Neapolitan was a courtesan harlot, very named person and very gruessa”. You know: to eat a Neapolitan is to side with the Republic. Up, fat people of the earth.
For another day, the “milanesa” they know nothing about in Milan, the “arroz a la cubana” that nobody eats in Havana and the “ensaladilla rusa” that Putin has never tasted in his life. There is no doubt that when it comes to food: we have been deceived.
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