Me: I wanna learn how to speak Spanish, Italian or French. They’re such romanic languages… Do you think Filipino languages can sound romantic?
Them: Anything can be romantic. You can make pasta water romantic.
Me: How?
Them: You cook pasta for the people you love.
Not all of our conversations make perfect sense on paper, but in between the lines there was something profound my friend was suggesting. Anything can be romantic if the intentions behind it are there. Sort of “it’s not what you say, but how you say it.”
Two-bite etymology brownie
From a linguistic standpoint, Spanish, Italian, and French fall into the category of being romance languages—languages which have evolved from Latin. The word romance originates from the Latin word romanicus, meaning “made in Rome.” How did the word romantic become synonymous with love?
Roma, the Latin and Italian name for Rome, in reverse spells amor, the Italian word for “love.” Romance is a European ideology. Romanticism is a movement that originated in Europe during the late 18th century and is characterized by the artistic and intellectual shift in culture which placed an emphasis on expressiveness, emotion, imagination and spontaneity. For many English speakers, romance languages sound romantic—beautiful and poetic—because of their melodic cadences and familiar consonants/ pronunciations.
Food and romance
In my last post, I mentioned my belief of food being a love language that most of us speak and understand. Some literal examples of this include offering someone the first sip, or saving them the last bite.
Cooking for someone can be a very romantic gesture. I wonder why, and how it became a common suggestion as something to do in order to impress a date: what makes it arousing? What neurological or chemical factors influence us to consider it romantic? Let’s dissect the adage “the way to a person’s heart is through their stomach.”
Cooking for other people is an admirable act of love. Perhaps we’re too used to seeing our grandmother, our mother or father, or our spouse preparing lunch or dinner, and we don’t realize how much self-giving is involved[…] Feeding people we love is an act that goes beyond the biological needs of the body. It isn’t just about throwing food down in front of them. It involves thinking about the menu beforehand, buying the necessary groceries, taking into account the tastes and dietary limits of each person[…] Someone who cooks for family and friends knows that cooking means thinking about others constantly. We cook with our hearts as much as with our hands, because usually when we cook, it’s for other people, to make them happy and content.
from “How cooking for others is a special act of love” by Santi Casanova.
In the context of romance, it’s a mix of multiple thoughts and feelings firing all at once. The feeling of being cared for, attended to, joy and comfort. Perhaps their thoughtful knife work and skillful seasoning are impressive enough to enhance their overall attractiveness. Or if they lack decent cooking skills, at the very least their attempt in making something is endearing and pure-hearted enough to spark something in us, which can be equally as stirring.
(Not) a recipe: pasta
In your favourite pot: a couple spoonfuls of pesto finocchio e acciughe, a healthy glug of olive oil, and a handful of cherry tomatoes. If you’re lucky enough to have a flatmate, toss in their leftover roasted garlic like I did (thanks, Janine). Cook on medium-high heat. The goal here is to wake the ingredients up. The oil will start to sizzle, the skin of the tomatoes will start to blister open, and the anchovies will begin to dissolve into a paste—a strong base for building an umami-rich sauce.
Once you feel like things look golden brown, glossy and flavourful, add to the pot “enough” water. As in, you want just enough liquid to cook the pasta but not so much that you’ll end up with soup. Sprinkle in some instant dashi. Bring the contents of your pot to a boil. Measure out some spaghetti by wrapping your thumb and index finger around a bunch of it. For a serving of one, you’ll want to aim to have the width of your spaghetti bunch measure the same diameter of a quarter1—measure accordingly to the amount of tummies you’ll be feeding. Gently work the pasta into the pan. Take care to tenderly submerge each noodle under the delicious broth. Plop in a knob of nice butter (European style butter). Stir frequently to keep the noodles from sticking together. Add another splash of water if the pasta needs it.
I prefer my pasta to be cooked al dente and coated with just enough sauce to appear thick and glossy, but this is not a recipe so I won’t tell you how to cook your pasta.
Divvy up the pasta into pretty bowls. Finish it off with a few shakes of katsuo fumi furikake on top of the noodles, and blow a kiss or two on your guests’ bowls for good measure. Finally—eat, laugh, love (I say this ironically, bit it unironically fits the theme).
Closing thoughts (for you!)
Are there languages that sound romantic to you? What phrases make your heart flutter—what do you find romantic? Have you ever cooked or had someone else cook you a romantic meal? Is eating saucy spaghetti on the first date still a strongly discouraged move?
Tunes of the week…
Quarter; a Canadian 25 cent coin. Measures about 2.5 centimetres or 1 inch in diameter.
The first time I was on the receiving end of すき(suki), my heart fluttered. She said it so gently, and with so much intention. By the time I had this experience, I had already understood the magnitude of being on the receiving end of this from my native Japanese speaking peers. For someone to claim they "like you" - translation of すき(suki) - in Japanese culture takes a lot of courage and is on the same magnitude of when someone in Western culture claims that they Love you. She was telling me she loved me; and in no other language have I felt the intensity of being loved than in the mother tongue of my partner at that moment.
Sharing food, especially the meals you've prepared yourself for you or your peers, has become a huge way of how I communicate my appreciation, and love, for myself and others. I only recently started cooking for myself regularly in the most recent months at age 32 and although I hold some embarrassment for that reality, I found solace in it. I can now explore a whole new skill and artform as a matured human, applying the same care and dedication I have for every other creative outlet I practice in. I heard once in an interview with Matty Matheson that sharing food is the second most intimate thing besides sex. I carry that sentiment with me in my DNA.