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Name that Pasta! Robert Sheridan bobsheridan bobsheridan@earthlink.net The lists I find tiresome are the canned lists. If you make 'em up yourself, I think you did something, which I admire.

G, your list was good.

Here's the next challenge. You don't pronounce those items the way they read, at least on StatNisland.

For example, manicotti is pronounced, properly, on SI, "manigott!"

Ziti is "Zeet!"

Pizza is "Ah beetz!"

The exclamation point is where the accent is.

The tarantella, the dance, is "Darandell!" The "r" is pronounced not like "are" but like lightly touched "d" in "dah, dah, dah."

Manigott is canoli elsewhere. What's the difference between a canoli and a caneloni? The size?

I don't remember the Italian fish stew on StatNisland. In San Fran it's either "caciucco" or (suddenly I can't think of the more common word.

Another dish I learned in SF, not SI, is spaghetti a la puttaniera. Sometimes I say puttanesca, but according to Little Joe's cookbook, where CJ and I had a memorable lunch (they still ask, "Who wuz that guy?") it's called puttaniera.

What that means is "whore's spaghetti." It seems like the ladies of the evening cooked up a batch of spaghetti for their guy of the moment, which seems like a helluva better deal than your apt to get around here, if you don't get your wallet lifted in the bargain.

Can I tell you a San Francisco story?

I represented a guy who kept coming back. Usually, between the cops, the judge, and me, my clients never come back for another ankle-jangling. But this guy never learned.

So he gets popped for engaging in an act of prostitution in a public place. And he was the buyer, not the seller.

It seems that he drove around the block and on the second go-around spoke to the beautiful blonde in the short mini, standing on the corner. A bargain wuz struck. A quid pro quo, as they teach you in contracts classs in law school. A little of this for a little of that.

Into his car she hops and off they go to a dark alley not too far away. My man is getting so excited that all the blood that feeds a normal mans brain is feeding his other brain. Not the one in his heart, the one a little lower down, which is just chugging away.

So are the gendarmes.

The SF Cops weren't born yesterday.

They were watching our young lady solicit our married guy and haul off into the sunset.

So the happy new friends are making happy in the front seat and a few minutes go by. The cops know just how to time it right.

Suddenly they pop up at each door window, badges and flashlights in hand.

The game is up.

Both get arrested.

I get to represent him.

My him, that is.

It turns out, you might not be surprised to deduce, that the lovely, and buxom, blonde, is also a him, my client tells me the police told him, later.

I was wondering why it took him so long to get around to telling me this. The last time I represented him it didn't take half so long to get to the nitty-gritty.

So I go into court and I've gotta do something for this guy. After all, he's repeat business.

I can't try the case.

His wife doesn't know.

And he's dead to rights.

I've gotta do something out of the ordinary.

So I go into chambers to talk to the judge and the DA. There's a half-dozen other defense attorneys in there doing the same thing.

Whaddya you want asks hizzoner.

I start to tell the story when a flash of inspiration strikes.

I tell about the pickup, and the cops jumping out at the climactic moment, but that's not all judge, here's the capper.

My client shouldn't be the defendant, he's the victim!

Whaddyamean victim, he asks in front of the assembled multitude.

So I mention that the She is a He.

My client, yerHonah, is a victim of Consumer Fraud!

That was good for a laff all around and a $50 contribution to the Salvation Army in return for a dismissal and the defendant's return to the loving arms of his happy wife, never to get in trouble again, just like in the fairy tales.

So much for the pasta puttaniera, which calls for a little olive oil, garlic, mushrooms, chicken broth, tomato sauce, white wine, basil, a pinch of flour, all on some linguine cooked al dente. While the pasta is cooking you can do whatever you want as long as it's quick, otherwise you either gotta wait or do the cooking later.

-rs



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