I just can’t help myself—I’m endlessly fascinated by travel programs where a chef, journalist, or explorer shares the story of a culinary journey somewhere around the world. One of my all-time heroes is Stanley Tucci, with whom I share an absolute love for all things Italian.
I feel as Italian as I do British or French, and when someone I admire romanticizes la dolce vita, I can’t help but binge-watch whatever trip they’re on.
This week, Disney Channel launched Tucci in Italy. I knew what to expect: probably some charcuterie, a few cuts of meat (especially veal- it is hard to watch but I can take stomach it) but also the sweetest tomatoes, pungent basil, countless pasta shapes, traditional cakes… you name it.
Fast forward to Episode 2, and suddenly I realize that the Stanley Tucci I adore—admire, even vénère—might actually be hiding a slightly sadistic streak.
Let me set the scene: Stanley visits a part of Lombardy where a sturgeon farm has been established. He’s shown around and sees these huge, slightly prehistoric creatures (his words). They’re 20-year-old female sturgeon who’ve been confined to a manmade lake for two decades. Stanley doesn’t bat an eyelid—he finds it remarkable. Uh-oh. Something’s not right.
He’s then told these female sturgeon will soon have their eggs harvested. Stanley beams: he loves caviar.
Now, as a chef, I know there’s a difference between loving caviar and loving it while knowing how it’s actually made. Stanley is about to find out.
Anyone with an ounce of compassion might ask: are these fish going to die just so their eggs can be taken? Stanley doesn’t ask.
Next scene: we’re in a lab where these 20-year-old mother sturgeon are being killed. Their bellies are carefully sliced open to reveal thousands of eggs. Stanley is stunned—not because it resembles a crime scene where mothers are being gutted and their eggs stolen. No, no. Stanley can’t believe each of those bellies contains at least $50,000 worth of caviar.
In fact, Stanley looks thrilled. What strikes me most is that he shows zero emotion for these dead mothers.
Cut to: Stanley enjoying caviar in a fine-dining setting. He’s shown how to eat it from the side of his hand. He swallows, smiles, and turns to the camera:
“This is the greatest day of my life.”
BOOM. It’s official: Stanley has no heart. No compassion. And, most worryingly, zero ethics.
So much for the near-papal aura I had projected onto him. His true color? The black of death. He feels nothing for the poor mothers who waited 20 years to lay their eggs.
Stanley, aren’t you better than that?
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