For those who love this dish, there’s nothing like real, homegrown spaghetti
Many people are often puzzled by the fact that spaghetti is produced at such uniform length
The spaghetti weevil all but vanished in Spring 1957. The pest was nowhere to be found in Castagnola, a Swiss village in the foothills of Monte Brè. The small peak is rather modest compared to its surroundings – offering views of the far more majestic Pennine and the Bernese Alps – but the locals have loving deemed it “the sunniest mountain in Switzerland.”
And, indeed, the weather was perfect that year for a bumper crop. Following a historically mild winter for the region, the harvest reached maturity a full two weeks earlier than expected.
“The last two weeks of March are an anxious time for the spaghetti farmer,” broadcaster Richard Dimbelby explains, the shot panning down to reveal long strands of pasta draped in amongst the trees. “There is always the chance of a late frost which, while not entirely ruining the crop, generally impairs the flavor and makes it difficult for him to obtain top prices in world markets.”
Men and women in aprons carefully pluck spaghetti from the trees, gingerly placing the foodstuffs in baskets. Once enough has been gathered, the noodles are laid out in the sun to dry. In spite of the year’s large crop, it’s still a family affair, the BBC presenter explains in voice over. And the local cultivation certainly pales in comparison to the scale found in neighboring Italy – a country far more synonymous with the food.
Even so, the Swiss farmers still have a way with the staple. “Many people are often puzzled by the fact that spaghetti is produced at such uniform length,” Dimbelby explains. “But this is the result of many years of patient endeavor by plant breeders who've succeeded in producing the perfect spaghetti.”
After the news reel finishes, the respected and erudite anchor notes, “For those who love this dish, there’s nothing like real, homegrown spaghetti,” before signing off for the April 1st broadcast of the then-new current affairs program, Panorama.
The segment caused a stir.
Hundreds called and wrote into the network the following day. The British public, it seemed, was rather confused by what it had just seen. Spaghetti, after all, was still something of an unknown quantity in the mid-50s United Kingdom. BBC Director-General Ian Jacob was among the befuddled viewership, as he and his wife watched the broadcast at home. Decades later, he noted, “We had to look up three books before we confirmed it.”
The broadcast was played with the remarkable gravitas of a seasoned BBC broadcaster. Dimbelby – who had cut his teeth as a radio reporter broadcasting the horrors of the second World War – happily played it straight. The segment, which was shot on location for £100, found the crew draping cooked spaghetti on tree branches. The pasta that wouldn’t stick on its own was taped to the foliage.
Now regarded as the largest hoax perpetrated by a major news outlet, the spaghetti tree broadcast was the brainchild of BBC cameraman, Charles de Jaeger. He later claimed his inspiration came from his school days in Austria.
“Boys,” his teacher told the class, “you are so stupid, you'd believe me if I told you that spaghetti grew on trees.”
Sources:
BBC: Spaghetti-Harvest in Ticino https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tVo_wkxH9dU
Obituary: Lt-Gen Sir Ian Jacob https://www.independent.co.uk/news/people/obituary-ltgen-sir-ian-jacob-1457544.html
Let’s All Recall When The BBC Convinced People Spaghetti Grew On Trees https://www.huffpost.com/entry/spaghetti-tree-hoax-april-fools_n_56fe89e7e4b083f5c6077279