DON’T PARM US OFF
THE NITTY GRITTY BEHIND YOUR SCHNITTY PITY IS BECAUSE IT FITS OUR ITTY BITTY DINE-OUT KITTY
Yesterday I discovered that there are people out there who hate chicken parmigiana. This is not presented in the form of unavoidable dietary needs or a personal aversion to tomato sauce, but a criticism of the dish as a whole – on goodfood.com.au our beloved pub classic has been called “an abuse of deep-fried chook”.
Callan Boys, writer of this chicken assassination piece, tells us it’s not the combination of ingredients that bothers him, but the way the dish has been bastardised for everyday person. He approves of “parmigiana di melanzane, where sliced, floured and fried eggplant is layered with basil, tomato-onion sauce, hard-boiled eggs, mozzarella and parmesan”, but not the TAB-soaked way we eat our frankenchicken in.
Dear reader, I am aghast. Gobsmacked. Broken-hearted. Because this is bull---t.
The delicious dish keeping this country fed is being looked down upon in a way it does not at all deserve. There is no mistaking the place the humble chicken parm holds in our hearts. It is a meal filled with nostalgia, a reminder of football grand finals, beer garden shenanigans and Sunday night RSL club family dinners past ... not to mention that one time you and the rest of Trivia Newton-John actually won the bonus round.
Take a moment now to look back upon your life. I guarantee there was one night, one dark, regret-filled night, where you were grabbing a bite at the local and opted for a dish that was not the parmigiana. Perhaps you had a late lunch. Maybe you were trying to be healthy. You might have even just been in the mood to try something new.
But as your buzzer vibrated and you walked toward the kitchen to collect your lamb shank, you caught a glimpse of your mate’s parm. Golden, glorious, crisply crumbed chicken drenched in a thick layer of mouth-watering cheese ... sitting atop an enormous pile of fat, salty chips.
Your heart dropped. As you watched your friend slice open that juicy breast, lift bite after perfectly proportioned bite to his mouth before using the last of the chips to mop up that tangy tomato sauce – you vowed never to make the same mistake again.
Not satisfied with taking down the dish, our hater goes on to criticise us, the patron. The patron who used their own money and free will to order such an abomination.
“With the loudest volume, it speaks of Milhouse men who miss Ralph magazine and post in WhatsApp groups with names like the ‘Schnitty Committee’ and ‘Parmy Army’.”
I can’t speak for all parm lovers, but I have never read an issue of Ralph. I don’t have a Schnitty Committee WhatsApp group, but I say a hearty good on you to those who do.
May I suggest that the devil dish you can’t stand is available in pubs across the country because all of us are ordering it?
It doesn’t matter where you are or you only have enough cash for the special, it doesn’t matter if it has ham or eggplant or both or neither. Ordering it makes us happy.
And with the state of affairs out there, we’d rather be tucked up in a cosy pub with a parmi right now.