That sounds like a pub name in a Terry Pratchett novel. But perhaps it is something more profound.
But let’s not dismiss it as a typo. Let’s treat it as a riddle. scala marinara inglese
Somewhere in the Amalfi Coast, a restaurant owner with a wicked sense of humor printed a fake dish on the "English Menu" to troll tourists. Scala Marinara Inglese is actually just a plate of fish sticks and ketchup, served with a cup of tea and a biscuit. When asked, the waiter winks: "Very traditional. From Manchester." That sounds like a pub name in a Terry Pratchett novel
Imagine the 19th century. The British Royal Navy, masters of hardtack and rum, meets the Neapolitan fleet, masters of sun-drenched tomatoes and dried oregano. A hybrid cuisine is born in the galley of a joint warship. The Scala Marinara Inglese is a layered casserole: a ladder (scala) of sliced potatoes or eggplant, climbed by a rich tomato marinara, finished with a creamy, custard-like top (a nod to Zuppa Inglese and British pudding culture). It’s not a sauce. It’s a construction —a stairway to flavor, bridging the Channel and the Mediterranean. Let’s treat it as a riddle
Scala Marinara Inglese is the Bigfoot of food writing. It doesn’t exist, but the search for it is far more entertaining than the recipes that do. If you ever find it on a menu, do not order it. Frame the menu. And order the pizza.