Taste: My Life Through Food

These chapters continue to examine the relationship between food and film in Tucci’s life. His dinner with Marcello Mastroianni is a highlight in his career, combining his reverence for the famous actor with his respect for authentic Italian food. They have such an excellent meal that Tucci takes some co-workers back to the restaurant, Romano’s. However, without Mastroianni to lend his authentic Italian self to the scene, the restaurant serves them bowdlerized versions of the same dishes, much to Tucci’s disappointment: “Although this is very common (it is in fact the primary plot device in Big Night) [...] it is always sad to know that in kitchens everywhere around the world many talented chefs are reining in the culinary gifts they have learned from their families in order to accommodate what is the mediocrity of the status quo” (180). Again, authenticity is derived from tradition, which is inextricably linked to family.

His experience promoting the film Julie & Julia, wherein he plays Paul Child, again marries his personal love of food with his professional film career. Not only does he play the husband of a legendary food personality, but he also has the opportunity to attend White House galas and film festivals (with the equally legendary Meryl Streep). Their adventures in France, while not all entirely without incident (that notorious andouillette), still allow room for both of his passions: “The festival and the setting [in Deauville, France] are a film lover’s and a filmmaker’s dream. The location is a food lover’s dream” (183). Tucci effortlessly weaves together these disparate strands of his life. Indeed, throughout the book, Tucci shamelessly namedrops famous friends and co-stars: he is boasting about and humbling himself simultaneously, marveling at the success he slowly but steadily has come to enjoy. He wants his audience (both reader and viewer) to enjoy his connections—just as he wants them to enjoy his food, hence, the recipes—with other famous figures.

He also returns to one of his central preoccupations throughout the book, the search for authenticity and tradition in the face of encroaching modernity. When speaking of his favorite restaurant in Vancouver, for example, he praises its commitment to traditional Italian food alongside the chef’s experimentation with new methods and new ingredients: “His expert use of the sous-vide method of cooking alone [...] sets him apart from so many chefs, as does his ability to integrate Asian flavors and techniques into Italian dishes” (193). Here, Tucci’s fidelity to tradition and adherence to non-negotiable rules is softened by his acceptance of modern techniques and novel combinations. He reveals that he embraces innovation as long as it does not supersede tradition entirely.

Witness his take on the Martini as further evidence: while the noble drink will “always be capitalized within these pages” (199), hinting at its rarified status, “I also believe that a Martini should be stirred and not shaken, no matter what 007 has told bartenders on screens for the last sixty years” (200). The reference to film icon James Bond’s most famous line—when ordering his Martini, it is always to be “shaken, not stirred”—is again a nod to his professional medium, though it also illustrates his flexibility within traditional contexts. That is, the Martini both signals authenticity—it is a drink to be capitalized, to be made “properly” (200), a tradition to which one should genuflect—and a way to express one’s personal preferences. It is a vehicle through which one can “[b]ecome a new person,” as Tucci puts it (201). Tucci’s Martini can also symbolize pure nostalgia, as he admits to being “a hopeless romantic who had a penchant for the 1930s and ‘40s” (202). This era is, for him, the Martini’s heyday, and he gravitates toward the drink as he gravitates toward the “savoir-faire of William Powell” or the “caustic wit and wisdom of Noel Coward” (202). Once more, the era exists for Tucci via the medium of film.

Finally, Tucci tackles the time-honored connection between food and love, not just familial but romantic. He forms a bond with his new wife, Felicity, over their shared enthusiasm for food: “Two food nerds becoming more emotionally intimate by tearing the feathers from a pair of dead birds. It makes no sense that this would give us both such joy, but in a way, it did” (207). Food is the conduit through which two people are connected. That he provides visual evidence of their love in the form of their wedding menu—rather than, say, the original invitation or a personal snapshot—reveals the centrality of food to their union.