“Something With Plenty of Gravy”: A Thanksgiving Memory Through Goldoni

“Good, good. Let's have something with plenty of gravy that we can sop the bread in. [A knock at the door.] Oh! someone is knocking. Smeraldina, see who it is.”
—Pantalone in Carlo Goldoni’s The Servant of Two Masters

In 1977, I was part of the faculty team that directed and designed Goldoni’s The Servant of Two Masters at Samford University. We hadn’t planned on doing Goldoni at all; the original play we intended to produce fell through. But stumbling upon this rambunctious comic masterpiece opened the door to an over 40-year love affair between me and commedia dell’arte.

In my book Theatre Is My Life!, I write about another play with a feisty Beatrice: Much Ado About Nothing. And here we are again with a spunky heroine of the same name. In our Servant production, we used Italian pronunciations—so she was Bay-a-tree-chay—and she arrived in Venice disguised as her dead brother. As with all great commedia pieces, the story swirls with the familiar elements: disguise, lazzi (the deliciously silly physical business), masks, wily servants, dopey fathers, and lovers stumbling through emotional chaos.

And at the center, of course, is Beatrice’s skinny, ever-hungry servant: Truffaldino. His constant search for food drives much of the plot—and his harebrained scheme to serve two masters, Florindo and Beatrice, at once. His frantic attempts to juggle messages, money, and responsibilities for both employers nearly expose him several times. When asked repeatedly to deliver something “to your master,” he develops a nervous stammer, unsure which master is meant.

One of the most famous scenes in all of commedia is Truffaldino’s dual-service banquet. He must serve meals to Beatrice and Pantalone in one chamber and Florindo in another. A parade of soups, boiled meats with gravy, rissoles, fricandeaux, and puddings emerges—each dish promptly mixed up or mis-delivered. At one point, eyeing a bowl of soup, Truffaldino wonders whether it is “worth eating.” He pulls a spoon from his pocket, declaring proudly: “I always carry my weapons about.”

And yet, for all the comic food-chaos in that scene, it’s a simple line from Pantalone in the very first moments of the play that has stayed with me:
“Let's have something with plenty of gravy that we can sop the bread in.”

That line pops into my mind often—maybe more often than it should. My family is blessed (or perhaps cursed) with Truffaldino’s longing for rich, comforting food.

I’ve always loved it all: the smell of something simmering, the kaleidoscope of textures, the pleasures of sour, bitter, sweet, and pungent, the colors, the creativity, the comfort. When my granddaughter Emmeline was just beginning to eat solid food, she greeted every bite with a delighted, rhythmic “Mmmmm. Mmmmm! Mmmmm!!” She would try anything—salad, shrimp, spinach, sweet potatoes—with unhesitating joy.

Fortunately, I love to cook as much as I love to eat. Planning meals, wandering grocery aisles, hunting down new spices, discovering and then loosely following recipes—it’s all part of the pleasure. And almost weekly, as I’m sketching out menus for the coming days, I hear Pantalone’s voice in my head reminding me:

“Let's have something with plenty of gravy that we can sop the bread in.”

This week, with Thanksgiving upon us, I think I’ll give in to him. After all, it’s the perfect season for a little delicious, sustaining gravy.