Dhis text is a bit of diplomacy – that’s why it’s not so easy. It’s a text about which my boss previously said: “Actually, as newspaper people, we are skeptical about the word ‘I’ – but here it doesn’t work without it.” I naturally see it differently, after all I belong to the upper-ego generation par excellence (millennials), in addition, in the text before that, which is also the subject here, there was also an “I”, without any need.
But rewinding: an email from the Italian embassy to me says whether I still want to reply to last week’s invitation. Including an official-looking seal, if something like that sent by e-mail can even look official, and an invitation to an “evening reception” at the embassy in Berlin. The Italian Minister of Agriculture is also coming. can this be real is this fake I answer vaguely: “Could I think about it?” The answer: “Yes, but not for too long.” I can bring one person with me.
I’ll be in Berlin anyway and call the embassy without further ado. The number turns out to be real, as does the invitation. But why me? Most recently I wrote about the beautiful side of life, as a society editor I sometimes touch on the dark side, but I don’t really have much to do with agriculture. “A mix-up?” On the other end of the line, a friendly woman clears her throat and says with a slight Italian accent: “We read your article. Ms. Dürrholz, our panettone doesn’t taste like foam rubber!”
I don’t think it’s appropriate to correct them (I actually wrote that panettone tastes like expired foam, but oh well). “Maybe we can change your mind,” says the nice woman. The minister for agriculture, it turns out, is also the minister for “food sovereignty”. It’s all so embarrassing for me that during the two-minute conversation, I affirm several times that I love Italy and Italian food anyway and that we’re incredibly Italian-loving in our editorial office. “But not you, right?” asks the woman and laughs. “I love Italy,” I say again. But that is not enough. It’s clear: I have to go to the embassy and mediate. I not only angered the panettone bubble, but half of Italy.
Food is emotionally charged – a Christmas cake even more so
Here’s how it came about: Before Christmas I had published a rather harmless little gloss about a harmless little cake called Panettone. Sure, food is emotionally charged, traditional food like a Christmas cake anyway, but this text shouldn’t be more than a little fun. But the few lines have excited people’s minds, there’s no other way to put it. Even in the editorial office, there was disagreement, and some colleagues only speak of “conflict cakes”. When I opened Twitter the day after it was published, I felt doom. “Panettone” was right at the top of the trends. What had I done? I thought, somewhat overdramatically. Things didn’t look any better on Instagram. By then a few trolls had started posting comments about my looks on all my pictures and sending me lewd messages, including a few threats, but of course mostly insults about my competence (As what actually? As a panettone taster?) . I set my profile to private and went to work.