Al contadino non far sapere quanto è buono il cacio con le pere
Keep someone (in this case a poor farmer) in the dark about a secret that could somehow, if revealed, come back to haunt those who have not been able to preserve it. Basically… the farmers produced both pears and cheese. If they had known how good this pairing was, they would have ended up giving the bottom of all the pears and all the cheese, to the detriment of the owners’ tables, who instead… knew… but remained silent… damn! Although I have a doubt… what if it is ironic? What if the farmers had always known? Who more than them knows the secrets of good food?
Sometimes, following a statement, it is almost natural to give a certain answer, often ironic or full of a more or less veiled sarcasm. The answer (or joke or comment) is therefore served on a silver plate. So we are put, by our interlocutor, in a position to give an answer that seems almost necessary, or at least strictly consequential. This teaches us to evaluate our words also in relation to the consequent response that could arise, so we should decide whether or not to serve the answer on a shiny silver plate.
Childhood memories! It happened that mom or dad would take you to play in the park. Rome has wonderful green spaces, called “villas” because it was once the private residence of princes and dukes counts and marquises… usually in Italian families a strict rule of education imposed the consequent threat of retroactive punishment in case of some outdoor prank with the purpose to put the naughty infant in line.
An uncomfortable situation. Maybe we dared too much? Sometimes putting your feet in two shoes is not the best attitude, the risk is not to get anything good if you are not clear and straight. Popular wisdom always brings good advice.
Interesting story … it was said in Rome in the once upon old times. “To eat the soap” that is, making bubbles from the mouth. Bubbles = Air (scented by the way). Lack of consistency. To say nonsense. Flatter. Cheat. And so it happened that, during Fascism, the Duce, engaged in diligent movements of entire neighborhoods, promised new and sparkling houses to the evacuees, built in the hilly village of Primavalle. This valiant Roman neighborhood, a little higher than usual than the rest, earned the nickname of “soap mountain”, due to the scam with which the jaw-dropping dictator had deceived them. So … those who come from the soap mountain are naive, a little gullible, and more generally an unaware victim (at least at first since the Primavallesi soon realized how empty they were, as always, the words of politicians).