A PARMONENT FEATURE
Valencia has its Paella. Athens is proud of its Kleftiko. Castelnaudary boasts its Cassoulet. Teesside is now famous for its Parmo! So much so that we now have The Parmo World Championships! Last week, an old favourite restaurant of mine, Borges, in Stockton won the coveted crown of the best Parmo in the world! Yes, the world, because there was even an entry all the way from Australia!
This dish has been talked about in papers, on radio and television, but what is it? Some say that it is heart-attack material, others even refer to it as gourmet food!
Personally, I only once fell for the hype and ordered one in a busy Linthorpe Road restaurant. I nearly fell off my chair when the waiter arrived carrying what looked like a bin lid with, at its centre, a gigantic breaded ostrich breast topped with a mountain of melted orange cheese.
In all my years of consuming solid foods, I have never once knowingly betrayed my motto of “quality over quantity”. And the sight of a mound of food on my plate has never appealed to me. On that instance, confronted with what is Teesside’s plat-de-résistance, and, in an attempt to impress my grandson, I put on my spiked climbing boots and my helmet and began the ascent. I gave up 25 minutes into the climb, having only managed to chip away at a quarter of this monster.
That was the last time I partook in a Parmo orgy.
As with all foods, the Parmo has its lovers and its haters. Some put it on a par with that old greasy kebab one has at 4am after a skinful. Something to soak in all the alcohol consumed since the day before.
Others can recite poetry over this international delicacy. They will also have a secret list of all the restaurants and takeaways that excel in the production of their favourite staple. Speaking of staples, I am told that there was once an overweight young man who, despite of having his jaws wired up to lose weight, had his Parmo liquidised and consumed through a straw!
When I worked at a Newcastle pizzeria in the early eighties, and later at the Coliseum in Peterlee, we served a breaded chicken breast with a tomato sauce. The dish was called Pollo Milanese. I was told by an Italian that anything in breadcrumbs came from Milan.
In the early days of Krimo’s at Seaton Carew in the late eighties, that dish regularly featured on our menu. Every now and then, a customer would ask for some cheese on top “like a Parmesan”. At first, I found the idea revolting and, for years, wondered where that fashion of mixing chicken and cheese originated. Then bit by bit, Chicken Parmesan lovers began to affectionately call it Parmo, and this led to just about every single restaurant on Teesside and even beyond, serving its own version.
As usual, a few adventurous chefs started adding their own twist to the dish. Nowadays, Parmo can come topped with chillies, mushrooms or even pineapple among other ingredients.
Despite its detractors, the Parmo is sure to outlive all the health-conscious gurus that call it a heart attack on a plate and become a permanent feature of world cuisine.
But, just like with everything else, moderation is the name of the game.