Italy or France: Which has the better cuisine?

Ok, I haven't found a translation yet, but for those who understand a little bit of French, it can be funny:


Mon père est un filet
Tout tendre et tout mignon
Ma mère est un navet
Elle plaît pas à tout l'monde

Ma grand-mère est une soupe
Une vieille soupe au lait
Elle a marié une nouille
Ils ont fait un navet

Ma tante elle est une tarte
Une grosse tarte aux pacanes
Elle a eu trois tomates
De différentes bananes

J'connais aussi un oeuf
Un oeuf en voiture sport
Qui promène son bacon
Et sa saucisse de porc

Et moi...
Et moi j'suis du boudin
Maman dit qu'c'est pas grave
Qu'y faut pas qu'j'ai d'chagrin
Qu'y faut que je sois brave

Elle dit que du boudin
Y'en a qui adorent ça
Qu'y à sûrement un raisin
Qui m'fera des p'tits pois

Elle me raconte sa vie
Sa p'tite vie de navet
Ses premières cochonneries
Avec un jeune poulet

Elle dit que je suis belle
Ou enfin très jolie
Que j'vaux bien n'importe quel
Bâton d'pepperoni

Mon frère est une salade
Une salade césarienne
Il a pas d'camarades
Il a mauvaise haleine

Mon voisin le jambon
A marié sa vieille truite
Il l'a trompée tout de suite
Avec deux gros melons

Et moi...
Et moi j'suis du boudin
Y faut que je m'accepte
Qu'jarrête d'envier ma soeur
Ma soeur qu'est une crevette

"As-tu vu ta cousine?"
Que maman me répète
"Une pauvre grosse poutine
C'est ça qu'tu voudrais être?"

Elle dit : "Regarde ton oncle
Le beau grand panier d'fruits
Qui se meurt aujourd'hui
D'un cancer du kiwi

Ou regarde ton p'tit cousin
Ca s'vante d'être du persil
Ca s'asseoit sur son steak
Pour le restant d'sa vie"

Elle me raconte l'enfer
Des cuisses de grenouille
Qui vont vendre leur chair
Dans des buffets chinois

Elle dit que les courgettes
Finissent en ratatouille
Qu'elles sont tellement défaites
Qu'on les r'connait même pas

Maman aura beau dire
Y'a rien qui m'fait du bien
J'arrive pas à m'réjouir
D'être un beau brin d'boudin

Je changerais d'place avec
A peu près n'importe quoi
Du foie, un biscuit sec
Et puis même un anchois

J'suis née pour un p'tit pain
J'me fait pas d'illusions
On drague pas du boudin
A moins d'être cornichon

J'me sens pas à ma place
Dans ma peau d'intestin
J'me trouve dégueulasse
J'veux plus être du boudin

Mais si... si j'faisais d'l'exercice
Avec un p'tit peu d'veine
J'aurais l'air d'une saucisse
Une belle italienne

Si j'étudiais plus fort
Si j'croyais plus en moi
J'pourrais peut-être alors
Devenir avocat

Mais j'vais pas m'humilier
Sous les yeux horrifiés
D'un capricieux gamin
Qui m'reléguera au chien

J'suis déjà un rebut
J'ai l'air d'un excrément
Même mon psy le toffu
Est à court d'arguments

Moi j'voulais faire ma vie
Avec un tournedos
Mais même les spaghettis
Sont là qui m'tournent le dos

J'me sens pas désirée
J'dois faire une dépression
J'ai envie d'me trancher
La seule veine que j'ai

Me vider au complet
De mon sang de cochon
Devant les pintes de lait
Mes voisines de balcon

Adieu maman navet
Papa filet mignon
Adieu colocataires
De mon grand frigidaire

J'vais m'dépêcher pendant
Qu'suis pas dans mon assiette
Pour expirer avant
C'que dit mon étiquette


Lynda Lemay - (Canadian singer)...

..and for those without, here's babelfish!

My father is a net
All to tend and very nice
My mother is a turnip
It does not like all the world
My grandmother is a soup
an old soup with milk
It married a noodle
They made a turnip
My aunt it is a tart
a large tart with the pecan nuts
It had three tomatos
Of various bananas
I know also an egg
an egg of sports car
.....


Hardly loses anything in the translation.

Good, lmur!

Only, the net in this case is "filet mignon"...

Italy has real food.

tiny, the question was "italy or france..."
indian.

but which country makes the best indian food, i have no idea. india? i couldn't tell you. and anyone not mentioning the swiss has never eaten bernian plate. i have to think the world's most amazing bread (and chocolate) might point to a country that should have been part of the question. imho, of course.

My favorite breakfast is biscuits with sausage gravy. It looks like the dog took a dump and then threw up on it. It tastes wonderful.

Don't ever apply for a job at a restaurant as a menu writer.

I like pasta . . . which is a Chinese invention, not Italian.

Italian cheese sucks.

You worked in Paddy's field, dincha?
Dam commie....

There was Johnny McEldoo and McGee and me
And a couple of two or three went on the spree one day
We had a bob or two, which we knew how to blew
And the beer and whiskey flew and we all felt gay
We visited McCann's, Maclaman's, Humpty Dan's
We then went into Swan's, our stomachs for to pack
We ordered out a feed, which indeed, we did need
And we finished it with speed, but we still felt slack

Johnny McEldoo turned red, white and blue
As a plate of irish stew he soon put out of sight
He shouted out "Encore!" with a roar for some more
That he'd never felt before such a keen appetite
We ordered eggs and ham, bread and jam, what a cram
But him, we couldn't ram, though we tried our level best
For everthing we brought, cold or hot, mattered not
It went down him like a shot and he still stood the test

He swallowed tripe and lard by the yard, we got scarred
We thought it would go hard when the waiter brought the bill
We told him to give o'er, but he swore he could lower
Twice as much again and more before he had his fill
He nearly supped a trough full of broth says McGragh
"He'll devour the tablecloth if you don't hold him in"
When the waiter brought the charge, McEldoo felt so large
He began to shout and barge and his blood went on fire

He began to curse and swear, tear his hair in despair
To finish the affair, called the shop man a liar
The shop man, he threw out and no doubt, he did clout
McEldoo he kicked about like an old football
Tattered all his clothes, broke his nose, I suppose
He would have killed him with a few blows in no time at all
Mceldoo began to howl and to growl, by my soul
Threw an empty bowl at the shop keepers head
It struck poor Mickey Flynn, took the skin from his chin
And a ruction did begin and we all fought and bled
The peelers did arrive, man alive, four or five
At us they made a dive for us all to march away
We paid for all the mate that we ate, stood a trait
And went home to ruminate on the spree that day.

(I ain't never worked for no Paddy, 'though i did once work for Joe O'Brien . . . you know, that feller who lives out on the Dubin Road? I can get with this program, 'cept fer the tripe and lard.)

Here . . . you can have mine . . . i ain't eatin' no tripe, even if ya tart it up and call it menudo . . .

Joe "Chin" O'Brien? Sure I knows him.

TG cheated and deleted her (his?) last post while i was replyin' . . .

Yer one a them "ah-gents provackaters," aincha, Lmur?

yugh....menudo....sheeps eyes and bits of offal in nasty sauce.



Making menudo











The end result....




From my own personally autographed collection.

Did Ricky Martin get a nose job or something?

I dont know, I really like Taleggio, and Ive had some good kinds of Pecorino and Provolone..

I vote Italian cuisine....

Ok. I'm not objective, you can't ask me that

Raphillon, tell us what your favorite italian cheeses are...


I like taleggio too; parmigiano reggiano; the fresh pecorino romano you can get in italy but not the US; the aged pecorino from italy that you can get in the US... some pecorino sardo dolce; mozzarella di bufula, even like the ordinary whole (cow's) milk mozzarella from some companies (but not others) here in the US; gorgonzola... can't remember if cambazola brand is italian..

don't like provolone, but that may just be what I've been introduced to here.

Ah, but I know there are more good italian cheeses out there, from being able to visit a really good cheese shop once in a while, back in California.

Francis, tell us about your favorite french cheeses...

That's a difficult task, Osso, we have more than 500 kinds of cheese..

I love cheese, not only French but Italian and many others.

I eat cheese almost everyday.. Today I had a Tomme de Corrèze and a bit of Crottin de Chavignol.