The Italian Ministry of Agriculture has a recent history of operating at the curious intersection of neofascism and culinary purism. Zaia’s “zero-tolerance policy” on food fraud became famous with his 2008 bust-up of cheating Brunello di Monalcino producers, which was hailed as a victory for consumers. But in a less-reported crackdown the following year, Zaia, a member of the extreme-right-wing Lega Nord—the political party that has advocated the seccession of Northern Italy—also instituted, with Berlusconi’s backing, a policy banning new “ethnic” restaurants from opening in certain northern Italian cities, including Lucca and Milan. It was a move that the left-wing newspaper La Stampa called “culinary ethnic cleansing.” Reporting on the policy, the Times of London quoted Lucca city spokesman Massimo Di Grazia as saying that “French restaurants would be allowed”; he was “unsure, though, about Sicilian cuisine. It is influenced by Arab cooking.” Continued the Times: “Asked if he had ever eaten a kebab, Mr Zaia said: ‘No—and I defy anyone to prove the contrary. I prefer the dishes of my native Veneto. I even refuse to eat pineapple.’” This, from the country’s Minister of Agriculture.

Sometime in 2001 or 2002, I recall meeting, and discussing pure-ingredient fervence with, Giorgio Alemanno, who was Italy’s Minister of Agriculture at the time (this was two Ministers ago). The man talked about wine with great passion. And like Zaia, he was also an absolute right-wing zealot. As mayor of Rome, Alemanno was famous for praising Mussolini, expelling immigrants, and mowing down gypsy camps. “Upon his election,” reported the Telegraph at the time, Alemanno “was greeted by crowds of supporters, among them skinheads, who chanted ‘Duce! Duce!’ and raised their arms in a fascist salute.” It’s interesting to see Zaia, with Berlusconi’s backing, continuing in this tradition.

Certainly, when we buy mozzarella di bufala—or Brunello di Montalcino—we want to get the real thing. But if we’re enjoying what’s sold as Brunello or bufala, and feel like we’re getting our money’s worth, is the cow/Cab crime really so great?

I’ve previously discussed the thorny issue of the overzealous advocacy of a traditional recipe to the exclusion of all others. In response to Florence Fabricant’s claim, for instance, that “for any pasta all’amatriciana to be authentic, it must be made with guanciale (pork jowl),” not bacon or pancetta, I responded that “too many food writers construct a counterfactual Italy of culinary dogmatism, a population of finger-wagging guanciale zealots, a nation…harrumphing around about how the world is going to shit now that people are making amatriciana with pancetta…People and recipes aren’t anthropological tokens. They’re living things, the products of neural assemblies and proteins and chemicals bouncing across the ages. Narrow your gaze and squint your eyes too tightly in the search for authenticity, and you might miss that whole, beautiful landscape.”

Perhaps I should revise this statement: clearly, there are some finger-wagging guanciale zealots in Italy. They tend to gravitate, it seems, toward the Ministry of Agriculture. The question of whether “zero tolerance,” when it comes to food, is fascist, patronizing, noble—or all three—is certainly one for further contemplation.

It’s one thing for a food writer to opine about which pizza style is his or her favorite—everybody seems to do it, whether in New York, New Haven, or Naples.

But it’s a breathtaking mistake for a seasoned food writer like Alan Richman, in his widely read new GQ evaluation of the top 25 pizzerias in America, first to completely misstate the definition of Italian DOC pizza; then to imply, without evidence, that the whole Italian population supports that misstated definition; and, finally, to use that misstated definition as the basis for a condemnation of the entire pizza culture in Italy. He writes:

“ITALIANS ARE WRONG. Not about cars or suits. About pizza, and they’re not entirely mistaken about that, only about crusts and buffalo-milk mozzarella…the Italians are proudest when they can substitute fresh mozzarella from the milk of buffaloes and label their pies Margherita DOC…In my opinion, buffalo mozzarella is pizza’s second-worst topping, exceeded only by whole anchovies… All that excess liquid has to go somewhere, which is why the bottom crust turns to mush, not that it was ever particularly crispy…this is why Italians need a knife and fork. This is why our pizzas are better than theirs.”

“The Italians are proudest” when they can substitute in buffalo-milk mozzarella and “label their pies Margherita DOC”?

The Italians aren’t wrong—Mr. Richman is, about just about everything. First of all, Margherita DOC doesn’t require buffalo-milk mozzarella. The rules set out by the Associazione Verace Pizza Napoletana allow for either (1) mozzarella di bufala from Campania (water-buffalo-milk mozzarella); (2) mozzarella STG fior di latte appennino meridionale DOP, (a regular cow’s-milk mozzarella that can come from Campania, Molise, Basilicata, Calabria, Puglia, or Lazio); or (3) another cow’s-milk fior di latte. This from the statutory definition:

“Mozzarella: mozzarella di bufala campana D.O.P., mozzarella S.T.G. fior di latte dell’appennino meridionale D.O.P. o altro fiordilatte certificato.”

Ditto for the rules for pizza Margherita as set out by the Italian Ministry of Agriculture, which not only states that either bufala or fior di latte is acceptable, but even gives a different name to a bufala pizza. Under the Italian Ministry’s definition, the regular “Napoletana Margherita” has fior di latte, not bufala; then there’s “Napoletana Margherita Extra,” which calls for bufala:

“Agli ingredienti base devono essere aggiunti, per la «pizza Napoletana Marinara», l’aglio e l’origano; per la «pizza Napoletana Margherita Extra», mozzarella di bufala campana DOP, basilico fresco e pomodoro fresco; per la «pizza Napoletana Margherita», la mozzarella STG o fior di latte Appennino meridionale e basilico fresco.”

But Mr. Richman doesn’t stop at getting the definition wrong; he also suggests that all Italians, if offered the choice, would choose bufala—implying that they embrace, or somehow aren’t bothered by, the sogginess of the crust. Is Mr. Richman—who has “traveled 20,000 miles” in researching this extensive set of pizza rankings—unaware that the fior di latte-vs.-bufala crust-moisture debate is a raging, unsettled controversy in Italian gastronomical circles, both inside and outside of Naples? This is one of the world’s great food cultures we’re talking about, and its culinary community deserves better than the naïve assumption that they all just like their crusts soggy.

“I’ve eaten in Naples,” explains Mr. Richman. But he must not have eaten at (arguably) the city’s most famous pizzeria, Da Michele, which uses only fior de latte d’Agerola, and never mozzarella di bufala; they don’t like the excessive liquid that drips from bufala. And although there are many pizzerias in Naples that do put bufala on pizza, just about all of them also offer fior di latte, and customers are divided between the two options. In other regions of Italy, in my experience, the use of bufala is even less common.

To misunderstand the cultural norms of a foreign country is forgivable; we’ve all been guilty of that at some point or other. But to flippantly trash another country’s food culture on the basis of a set of statutory rules that one hasn’t even looked up is irresponsible journalism.

I think a retraction should be in order.