ON "TUSCAN" THINGS

Having never seen a meal so bizarre
He cannot help but smile, for indeed
A Tuscan would have to travel far

From Arezzo or Grosseto just to feed
On ample Tuscan seasonings as these;
Oregano that to him looks like weed. 

Asking for BREW-SKEH-TAH, saying please
Angelo is corrected, it's BREW-SHETTUH,
though he's clearly speaking natively, with ease.

Artichoke and Spinach dip, a chicken "wrapetta?"
Called Tuscan, not Italian to avoid
Associations with mob vendetta.

Why Tuscany? It's making him paranoid.
Not Lombardy or Lazio or the Marches?
Instead each time it's Tuscany that's employed,

Almost as commonplace as golden arches,
All's Tuscan, from ciabatta to wheat bread
Risotto, pastas, all the other starches

Called Tuscan, they'll stick in your head
As something new, refined, or genuine
To villas, under suns, numbed minds are led

By reputation of its unfailing wine.
The land of saltless bread, bistecche, and beans,
From market squares where no one forms a line

Now gives its name to restaurants in Queens
In an attempt to make the place more metropolitan
When few in fact could care what Tuscan means

They know it's not Barese, or Neapolitan.