There is a certain poetry to an awkward translation. Especially if you imagine it said by a
strapping, dark wavy haired, suntanned and oiled señor. With a dimple in his chin. I am researching the country of Chile,
preparing myself for a mid-winter escape to warm beaches and cold beer. Finding information on the country, not the
bean dish, leads me to many websites in Spanish. But, tadah, the wonderful web provides a
translation. Language translation on the
web is really a miracle of some sort. It
allows so much more information, translated from a native tongue, so one hopes
maybe a little more honest. But also
with awkward cadence, misarranged sentences and some pretty shocking
translations.
Take for example a little exploration into Chilean
cuisine. I’m preparing myself to order
off a menu intelligently (and to avoid something similar to our ill fated
“gristled ear” adventure in Spain). From
what I can see we will have marvelous dining on seafood pies, pork boiled in
pig leather and drunken chicken. I was
however leery of the “Children Involved” listed in the beef category. Bouncing back to the Spanish, Ninos Envueltos
must be related to the meat stuffed rolls I’ve made in cooking classes in
Sicily and Italy. From what I recall the
name comes from the word “envelope” for the pocket that is made for the herbs
and breadcrumbs inside. But in this case
an envelope becomes “involved” and what is probably a veal cutlet becomes
child. In the actual recipe it gets
further from the truth, calling for “12 scallops seat small” which I assume are
small escallops of veal, not scallops of the sea. The list of ingredients looks wonderful
(chard leaves, white wine, garlic, bay leaf, cumin, vinegar and bacon). All is pretty understandable and lovely until
the last direction. Quite frankly you
are to: “Serve two children wrapped with their sauce per person, accompanied
with a good creamy mashed potatoes (sic).”
The lilted, stumbling sentences manage to portray a romantic
image of beaches, sunsets, harbors and birds.
Even mention of trash on the beach is not so bad. I give you this: “The sector of the Vatican is, after a
beautiful pine forest, Los Pescadores beach. Ask for the name is something
more: five beautifully painted boats rest on the shores of a small bay
surrounded by rocks. There is a route that follows here northward and, using
rocks, arrives at the famous Punta Lacho, listed as the best viewpoint on the
Central Coast for having panoramic from Isla Negra to Cartagena. However there
are some problems: the memories of the human presence who forget to bring their
trash.”
It all sounds so peaceful (minus the trash) and the elusive
romantic in me stirs as I envision the heat, the Malbec wines, walks on the
beach, shots in a local bar. Someone
that my “powerful air” won’t scare away.
His name may be Don Nicanor.
Finally: “ Las Cruces is seaside resort all year round. Autumn rains,
fog or sudden sunny give you a powerful air. Winter is in full solitude and
spring with migratory birds, announces that the heat is about to return. If
walking around here, hopefully he greets don Nicanor. Meanwhile, the song of the sea never stops.” (Chile.com)
