Rome Part One.
DB Bahn you have competition. Trenitalia knows how to do it. Complimentary prosecco for those in 1st Class, 24 hr wi-fi for one cent. Our train from Venice put us into Rome late afternoon. We got our introduction to the Rome metro, descending upon escalator to escalator into the recesses of the ground to be whisked quickly across the city towards our hotel, a twenty minute walk from the Vatican.
We were hot. We were sweaty. We still had the pizza from Mestre in our minds. We kicked off our boots and took a walk. One of the recommended spots were found was a place called La Gatta in the Monteverde backwoods. We were just eager enough that La Gatta wasn't even open by the time we got there. We killed some time chowing down on some cannoli and grabbing a drink at a bar across the street. I was introduced to an Aperol spritz, which is a lot of orange and a lot of fun in an stemmed wine glass.
La Gatta specializes in thin crust pizza, when in reality apparently they keep a foot in either camp of paper thin Roman crust and fluffy, chewy Neopolitan. The crust in Mestre was paper thin, floppy almost. La Gatta had the crust that you saved to eat after the pizza was done. We tried a margherita pizza, as part of our research project using Mestre as our benchmark, and a pizza bianco (meaning no tomato sauce) with mushrooms, mozzarella and sausage to finish. Mestre won. The decision was really quite quick. La Gatta's pizza, excellent. For places to eat in Rome, especially pizza places, I would recommend La Gatta in a heartbeat though don't rely on GoogleMaps to get you there. But Mestre had a furious hold on us.
The next day, with ready bellies we headed out. Armed with our map, we wandered the riverside. There is a reason they call Rome the Eternal City because it would take you an eternity to see everything. When you are there for a limited amount of time, you limit what you want to see. You pick the big things and you forget the things that just won't fit. But if you had the time, you could walk Rome FOR DAYS. Taking from our time in Venice, we wandered and figured things out as we walked. We saw the Spanish Steps, which lead from Piazza del Spagna which lead to Piazza del Monti. We took in what is supposed to be the best cannoli in Rome at Dagnino, which tasted like a donut and the flavour lingered in your mouth long enough that you contemplate walking halfway across Rome for another one.
You happen upon the Trevi Fountain as if it's just another street sign, the reach of Poseidon so much larger and the movement of the horses so much more dynamic than pictures can even suggest. A couple swats and elbowings through the crowd and an eventual climb over the railing, one can arrive at the edge of the fountain and flick a coin in for good luck. You get past the pizzerias hawking 11 euro pizzas to the famished Trevi Fountain seekers and you come upon Hadrian's Mall, the massive remnants of the first shopping mall. Down the steps and round the front, you are spit out in front of Monumento Nazionale a Vittorio Emmanuele II, affectionately called "the typewriter", a monument to the first king of a unified Italy, Vittorio Emmanuele II. Most Romans hate it, thinking it to be an eyesore. It's either too white, too big, or it's the unfortunate reality that part of historic Capitoline Hill was destroyed in order to build it. You can wander for hours without a map and see half of the things you were looking for by accident.
We replicated pattern we have created thus far on this trip which is Moozh finds the best off-the-beaten-track foodie gem, and I take us to the Jewish Quarter. When doing our preliminary foodie research on Rome, we got pretty excited. No matter what you're in the mood for, or what your budget it, Rome will have your expectations beat. Salumeria Roscioli, located in the Centro Storico neighbourhood, tucked away behind the Argentina line and minutes away from the river, is what could crudely be described as a deli. I slap my own hand as I say that because it is so far beyond any deli you have ever seen. Upon entering, the right wall is lined front to back, floor to ceiling with local Italian wines, everything from plummy Barolos to chocolately, warm Sardinians, spicy Valpolicellas to inky Super Tuscans. What lies along the left side is what seizes your attention. Full legs of pancetta, proscuitto hang along the back wall. Balls of fresh buffalo mozzarella bob in water. Bowls of marinated artichoke hearts, roasted red peppers and wheels of cheese the size of sidewalk blocks. We wandered around, mouths agape until one gentle man behind the counter wrapped some goodies in white paper and gestured towards the bakery, their sister restaurant, down the next lane. We didn't bother with bread. We didn't bother with sitting before we tore the packages open. A salty wedge of pecorino romano, translucent slices of proscuitto and two marinated artichokes kept us busy as we planned our next move.
The No Reservations episode of Rome is a perfect example of just what The Travel Channel will do for Anthony Bourdain. They'll dress him up. They'll showcase his wife. They'll film the entire episode in Black and White, as his tribute to Federico Fellini. But while Bourdain, though sometimes on the obnoxious side of eccentric, still knows how to choose 'em. After our artichokes, we sauntered along the river, shaded in the speckled light, past Trebi Island, towards the upwardly cool and popular neighbourhood of Trastevere. We were on the hunt for Roma Sparita. Again, in our eagerness, we were forced to kill time until it opened. We wander around Santa Cecilia just in time to see a wedding spill out, a blissful new couple doused in happiness and airborne rice. We got married in the summer so we are fully aware of what wedding traffic looks like in the summer months. (We know people who got married each day the weeks leading up to and following our wedding, as well as someone on the same day.) We have wandered into someone wedding photos by accident in nearly every European city we've been in.
We head to what I figured would probably be my haunt if I lived in Rome, a tiny bar aptly called "The Hole".We take in two classically Italian aperitifs, a Negroni and a Sbagliato, as the light turns peachy and Roma Sparita is open for business. Roma Sparita specializes in pasta, and it was to be our one, and only, deviation from our pizza 'research'. It keeps to the classics and does them right. Moozh had the amatriciana, a sauce of tomato, pecorino cheese, and pork, slathered on tube-like noodles. I had the cacio e pepe, or cheese and pepper pasta, served in a playful parmesan cheese bowl with some seasonal fried squash blosssoms as well.
Walking Trastavere at night is like stumbling across one thing after the next, lit in spotlight. Up Via Guisseppe Garibaldi, we stumbled upon the Panoramio, which lived up to it's name, an uninterrupted 360 of Trastavere to the Vatican. Rounding the corner, you find Pontificio Collegio San Pietro Apostolo, another large monument centuries old that is now functioning as the centre of a traffic circle. From there onwards, we quickly realized that Roman streets aren't really meant for pedestrians. We walked the entire Aurelia Antica, the entire 6 km of it, on a six inch shoulder. And with Italian drivers, like all European drivers, we certainly got an earful of what they thought.
Next stop, the Colosseum .Rome served us up a greyish day to see what of it's most famous landmarks. But even without sun the structures are no less majestic. Climbing the steps to the Capitoline, you see a replica of the oldest equestrian statue in the world, of Marcus Aurelius on horseback. Passing another wedding where the bride loves big hair, we passed under an archway to a panorama of the Roman Forum. Moozh figured out how to drink from the fountains that we've been seeing everywhere in Europe. The whole time we had been slurping from the palm of our hands, splashing our entirety with water, when had we simply plugged the spout of the faucet, there is a small hold drilled at the curve of the faucet that turns it into an easily accessible stream. Go figure. Tourists, oy.
Passing the gates to the Palatine and the Roman Forum, the Arch of Constantine rises in front of you with the window laced facade of the Colosseum. We had invested in a Roma Pass that garnered us to jump the line at the Colosseum and free public transit in the city, as well as free entry to one other museum in the city. The transit pass definitely made a difference to us as we were staying a little bit outside the historic centre of the city. But it really came in handy as we were walking up to the Colosseum to see a healthy line of people snaking through the admissions line outside. A quick scan of our pass and we were in. From the outside, the Colosseum is huge. But once you get inside, it feels much bigger. The rows and rows of seats that must have existed at one point is staggering but the tunnels below ground, which would have held gladiators, lions, bears and large pits truly is an engineering marvel. Gladiator wasn't lying.
Next was what used to be one of the last free historical sites in Rome, the Roman Forum. It has now become part of a package, in which you pay for the Colosseum and can then see the Roman Forum and the Palatine museum. The fact that some of these ruins are still in existence given the time and history that has past in the meantime puts it so much in perspective. They can start to just look like a bunch of crumbling rock. But then you realize the age of each of these things, and their purpose back in their day. That's when you realize how small you are. And how impermanent.
We headed from the Colosseum back over to Centro Storico to try out Roscioli's sister restaurant, Roscioli Al Forno, with high expectations for their pizza bianco. Closed on Sundays. Ok. Across the street, Chowhounders had raved about a pizza place with cheap margherita pies called Pizza Florida. Closed Sundays and Mondays. Hmm. With Roscioli Al Forno closed for the day and no Pizza Florida, we took in pizza al taglio, which means pizza by the slice, at a small joint called Pizza Art. Now 'pizza al taglio' is a common way that 'fast food' pizza joints do pizza in Rome. These places put the whole concept of pizza by the slice to shame. Slabs topped with goats cheese, pancetta and artichoke hearts or squash blossoms and fresh tomatoes, the pizza is cut and then priced by weight. This is not thin crust pizza. This is a focaccia-like crust, piled high with delicious toppings. You can try as many different kinds, slices of any size. We could have stayed there all afternoon. But it's good we didn't.
Any preconceptions I had about gelato from the stuff we had in Venice was blown out of the water. Gelateria del Teatro is by far the best and most inspirational gelato I have EVER had, anywhere ever, and will ever in my life. It was like going to Pierre Herme and having the skies part and Saint Honore herself billow down to hand me something that would so redefine and inspire my desires for my pastry career. Now I have mentioned before that I have a bit of a bizarre palate. I love flavour combinations, presentation methods and ingredients that surprise me, intrigue, that make me want to pursue them. I had Lavender and White Peach along with Basil and White Chocolate. Moozh had Sicilian Wine Cream and Raspberry and Garden Sage. Each flavour had balance and beautiful freshness. I would have gone back to try everything they had. The softspoken shop owner was generous and patient while I slobbered all over the glass. Moozh dragged me out by my fingernails.
Make some pasta. Add some cheese. Add some pepper. That's all you need. And maybe some wine.
Things I learned in Rome:
Pizza al Taglio = bomb dignity.
When in Rome, always keep your eyes open or you will miss something that is just hidden enough.
Quote from Rome Pt 1: Moozh: "Babe, you do this weird chicken thing when you talk. It's like you're pecking your point across."
Runner Up: Moozh: "You know why Rome wasn't built in a day. Because nobody here knows what the f*** they're doing."
Rome Pt 2
At this point, I'm trying to figure how to move to Rome. And maybe how we can get 'lost' near Gelateria del Teatro. What we knew we had to take in while in Rome where their markets. The produce in Italy tastes unlike produce you get back in Canada. Pomodoro tomatoes, completely unadulterated, adorn pizzas across the city. They're dumped in pots, merely heated with some pork cheek and slathered on pasta. They are bitten into after a quite polish with the corner of your shirt on a street corner. You taste it and can only think, "What IS that?" But Italy has a market that can kick the ass off of any Whole Foods or Trader Joe's nonsense. Eataly was founded by the same guy who kind of led charge of the Slow Food movement. Eataly was his response to the first McDonalds arriving in Rome. He believed it was so against Italian culture, so against what they stood for and what they were capable of. So he started a market where everything is made fresh, many things are made in house, without preservatives, by hand. He even brought in the guys who make Dogfish beer to make their house brand beer. They have a pizza bar, a pasta bar, a specialty coffee bar (which in Italy is no joke), fresh buffalo mozzarella, charcuterie, ciabatta. Ciabatta, focaccia, schiacciata, the Italians have been rather productive with bread I'd say. They have a friteria, which is a fried food bar, where they freshly fry squash blossoms, arancini (risotto balls), etc. Fresh olives and produce cover the bottom floor. They have an olive exhibit for your education. After I had fogged up the glass of the buffalo mozzarella kitchen, where freshly pulled mozzarella was bobbing in twenty gallon tubs, and Moozh had been brushed away from the charcuterie pavilion and wiped the slobber from his chin, we grabbed some Cerginolas and headed to the bus stop that would take us to the Catacombs.
Due to tourists, we weren't able to see the Parisian catacombs so we were determined to preplan for Rome so as not to miss their catacombs. The catacombs differ quite a bit. The Parisian Catacombs run beneath the entirety of the city. Nearly ever street in Paris has a catacomb tunnel running beneath it, some of which have caved in, some of which lead no where but many of which are used often, legally or otherwise. The catacombs in Rome lie on the outskirts of the historical centre and are mostly connected with a church that date back to the time of the early apostles in the first and second centuries.
This is where "All roads lead to Rome" began. There are numerous different catacombs that you can take in. San Callixtus seemed to be the most popular but we were advised if we wanted some less busy to try out the San Sebastiano. It lived up to everything said about it. The Church attached to San Sebastiano isn't anything magisterial, aside from the fact that it has A BERNINI IN IT. Bernini's last work, a bust of Christ, sits in a backlight enclave just inside the church. Not anywhere did we read anything about the sculpture. The Church itself is free. It's only the tour of the catacombs that comes with an admission price. Photos are allowed free of charge. There is also a sculpture of Saint Sebastian that was designed by Bernini but completed by someone else. Saint Sebastian was an early apostle of Christianity who spread the gospel throughout the Roman Empire. He was a soldier in the Roman Empire, which seems like a conflict of interests to say the least, and he was expelled from the army and shot with arrows. He survived the shots, was nursed back to health, began to travel with the gospel before he was found again by Roman soldiers, tied to a tree and beaten until dead. He was made a saint and a martyr so as to make all that effort worth it. Within the catacombs, where there are no photos allowed, there is the site of the original underground church that was built there, with mentions of the apostles Peter and Paul having been there. There is something about the catacombs where I had to somehow tell myself I was not where I was. I am mildly claustrophobic. By mildly I mean I become apoplectic if you hold a blanket over my head, and I can't watch National Geographic scuba diving specials. You keep descending into the catacombs, level by level. They are pleasantly cool, though, and our group was only five strong. The catacombs are beautiful and reveal a gorgeous burial history. Entire families would be buried together, at times in a mass grave, not only to conserve space but also so that surviving family members could visit the tomb and create a kind of shrine.
Back in the city, we were spit out near the Termini station and decided to take in what is said to be the best porchetta in Rome. The family at Er Buchetto has been serving up porchetta on a crusty bun since 1890. Moozh said he had had better, at Meat + Bread in Vancouver no less, and then began to talk about how he would do it better. THAT made me want a porchetta sandwich. Porchetta, bare bones. We stopped by Dagnino for another cannoli -it's all research on this trip folks- as we waited for Santa Maria della Vittoria to open. Another church, on the other side of the fountain, caught my eye because of some cool artwork on it's door. Large brass door with moulded figures leaping out front their surface. Santa Maria Angeli dei Martiri contained some of the coolest artwork we saw in all of Europe inside a church. After San Sebastiano, we had learned that some of the most beautiful artwork can be found in the most unlikely of places. Had della Vittoria been open, I would have snapped a shot of the Angeli dei Martiri altogether and miss everything it had. I would absolutely recommend it as a stop worth seeing to anyone going to Rome. You get tired of the 'typical' angelic statues. Everything was truly massive. We did still go Santa Maria della Vittoria, which we had to stop into because it contains another Bernini statue, tucked and hidden away, the Ecstasy of Saint Theresa. Elaborately gilt with copious marble and slate, there was something about it that seemed somewhat underwhelming after Angeli dei Martiri.
The next day began with Piazza Navona. Which lead to the Pantheon. A temple originally built in the first century as a temple to the gods, which was later rebuilt by Emperor Hadrian (his stuff LASTS), it later became a Roman Catholic church dedicated to Saint Mary and the Martyrs. Which led to impromptu limoncello tasting at a small shop along the way. Which led to teaching two other travellers how to drink from the fountains and a four year olds best attempt at sing talking-street music. The real thing.
Next stop was the Capuchin Crypt. It used to be free, which it is no longer, and they now have a much stricter no photos policy. They have added a museum to the crypt, which is likely where the new cost comes in. Also make sure you have something to cover your shoulders with. The museum was interesting but all I really wanted to see was the crypt. Intricate and elaborate sculptures and tableaus sculpted out of the skeletons of monks. You would expect it to be slightly...morbid. It is certifiably eerie, but simultaneously elegant. It's a recommended stop even given the new admission cost.
At Al Forno Roscioli earlier we had swung by their vineria and picked up a bottle of Sardinian wine, Lillove. Back in May when we were taking our second level wine certification, WSET, we tried a Sardinian wine, Cannonau, that was the definition of putrid in my opinion. It smelled of sweat and earth, with what I thought was a bland palate. In general, I was not a fan. Moozh liked it so much he took the bottle home with him. Being a Pinot Tragic, he loves the funk and earthen, 'forest floor' characteristics. He has a palate that I trust implicitly and am infinitely impressed by. Thusly, I wanted to give Sardinia another chance and Lillove, or L'il Love as we deemed it, was a chocolately rich antithesis to the Cannonau. It was rich and round with black currant and black fruit. With the sky opened up in colour, we headed back towards the Colosseum to make up for the pictures we had taken a few days earlier. What a difference a blue sky makes.
Another nondescript hideaway in Rome is the Santa Maria del Poppolo. A block off from the Flamino metro station, we slid (and I quite literally SLID) through it's door on a soggy day on our way to the Borghese Gallery. Santa Maria del Popplo is one of many places in Rome where you can see Caravaggio paintings free of charge. Caravaggio being Moozh's favourite, and considering that we were paying to see a handful of other Caravaggios at the Borghese Gallery, it was worth the stopover. del Poppolo is located in the beautiful Piazza del Popolo, a piazza we definitely would have hung around to see more had the weather not been so waterlogged. Inside, the church was somewhat reminiscent of Angeli dei Martiri, with some more traditional artwork paired with more interesting, modern pieces. Tucked in the back left corner, Conversion on the Way to Damascus and The Crucifixion of Peter.
Rome's underground metro is probably one of the best we experienced in Europe. They can take that to the bank. Their tram service sucks. And of course we came to this realization on a day that POURED. The Villa Borghese occupies a large piece of real estate in the centre of Rome. The Borghese Family is one of old wealth, with noble and papal ties. Way back when a family led army overthrew the papacy in Rome, the Black Nobility sided with the Pope, who confined himself to Vatican City as a prisoner in a way to refuse the new, coup-enforced rule. Their black clothing was a symbol of their mourning his confinement. All that is to say, in Rome, the Borghese hold sway. They also have a TON of stuff. When we were at the Louvre, many of the neo-classical statues and art pieces were on loan from the Borghese collection. The Borghese Gallery, which is held at the Villa, houses the remainder of their collection and there didn't look to be many empty spaces due to their generosity.
The Gallery contains the most of Bernini's statues of anywhere in the world. Bernini's works have something…else, something no other statues have. His statue of David has an expressiveness that goes beyond simply a moment. One of my favourites, his sculpture of Apollo and Daphne, describes the myth with so much movement, Daphne's fingers and hair turning to laurel branches and her toes reaching down into roots. The Rape of Proserpina, though a harsh myth, is a gorgeous statue. Pluto's fingertips actually leave indents in her thigh as he grabs her. It adds a fleshiness to the statue; it feels real. Caravaggio's David with the Head of Goliath has such a beautiful use of colour. There is a reason these men live beyond their own lives. They were able to convey moments in a way no one else seemed to be able to.
Last stop, the Vatican. The smallest sovereign state in the world, Vatican City is ruled by the Bishop of Rome, sometimes referred to as the Pope. The Vatican houses a massive museum of everything from Ancient Egyptian sarcophagi to fifteen foot square tapestries that chronicle nearly the entire history of the Catholic Church. Full scale frescoes by Michaelangelo and Raphael. It contains some of the most famous churches, not only in Rome but, in the world. Our day for the Vatican was similar to our day at Villa Borghese, cold and wet. We pre-booked tickets, available at one of the Post Offices within the Square, which allowed us to skip the massive cue that still wrapped around the entire wall of the Vatican even given the drizzle. The Vatican, because of it's sovereignty, has the right to it's own postal service. With Italian post being, from all accounts, notoriously slow, and the postal workers less than enthusiastic to assist you, many locals recommended that you send any post from the Vatican not only for the keepsake value of something arriving with 'Poste Vaticane' stamped on it but also for the likelihood that it will actually reach it's location.
The Modernist exhibit was amazing and a refreshing take on familiar themes. Our favourite, and a potential tattoo for Moozh, was Gerardo Dottori's "Crucifissione". Up a flight of stairs, you are ushered into what feels like small room that is VERY crowded. You are told to keep moving, and then you toss a glance upwards and are faced with Michaelangelo's fresco. The Sistine Chapel. It's all there, every piece of it that you've ever heard of. The walls are much higher, the room much smaller, and much emptier than I would have thought. But you can't stop staring. That is until you feel light headed and you need to sit down. Though there are small signs everywere saying that no photos are allowed, next to no one pays attention to that. Flashes going off everywhere.
Slipping through a door and down some stairs, we come around the North side of St. Peter's Basilica. My traction-less flip flops are hydroplaning on the rain-glossy marble. I am shooed away from the doors for wearing shorts. Granted, my shorts are definitely on the 'short' side of pants. Their on the 'short' side of anything within a hand's width of my knees. They didn't seem to mind Moozh's shorts and he thusly, channeling his best McGyver, wrapped my legs in his rain jacket to the guards approval and we moved inside. St. Peter's Basilica, in all of it's glory, is free to the public. It's already been paid for all of those who believed that they needed to buy their way into heaven. The sheer magnitude of it all, I have no idea how you would concentrate during Mass if that were your church. I am stopped in my tracks by a statue of white marble and emotion, Michaelangelo's Pieta. Christ draped over his mother's lap after his crucifixion. She holds him with such gentleness, her face conveying so much more than sadness, rather the complexity of a mother's grief.
Beneath one of the many large statues are stairs that spiral down beneath the basilica, leading to the Grotto, where the bones of St. Peter are believed to be buried. Many other Popes and other royal figures are entombed here but the tomb of St. Peter is entirely unique. It held Moozh's attention, without flinching, for easily fifteen minutes. Back above, you find another Bernini, this time a pavilion-type platform that is involved in the Eucharist service, called a baldacchino. In front of it is Bernini's Cathedra Petri, which is a piece he designed to display what was believed to be the Throne of St. Peter. Gold rays radiate out from behind it. From there we saw a nun texting while she was praying. I saw more than one woman throw a fit at the doors because they wouldn't let her in with shorts or bare shoulders. Three kids played tag around the baldacchino. You walk around feeling small in such a large place. But you watch the liturgy of those who have made the pilgrimage here for their faith, and you see that this is more than just a tourist jaunt for so many. Here it is a holy place, the genesis of something truly meaningful in their lives.
From there, it was our last foodie stop of Rome. One stop from the Vatican station, a mere block away from the Spagna metro, is a pizza al taglio joint called Pizzarium. Even the name is exciting. Gabriele Bonci is a chef in Rome making waves with his unique pizza toppings and phenomenal crust. Toppings from the elaborate, like foie gras and cherry or mortadella and black chickpea, to one of their most famous, and most simple, their pizza rosso, which is simply their pomodoro sauce and cheese. House wine comes cheap, poured from a coffee spigot into plastic cups. Those working the counter provided great rapport and are enthusiastic about the pizza. First we tried their 'pizza rosso' and a slice that appeared to have some kind of ratatouille on it. Phenomenal. Potatoes + pizza = always. Once those disappeared, a piece of Margherita, with fresh basil and newly pulled mozzarella, and another big seller, pecorino and potato. Again. Potatoes + pizza = always. Bonci recently came out with a cookbook, Il Gioco della Pizza, for his famous pizza crust if one simply can't make it to one of his pizza workshops. As soon as I have counterspace again that book is going on it. We left firmly knowing that Romans KNOW food. Like some people know their own children, Romans know food.
Things I learned in Italy:
Potatoes + pizza = always.
When in Rome, EAT.
House wine is a great way to round out an Italian meal and a surefire way to a headache the next morning.
Quote from Italy:
Moozh: "Babe you are like a fine wine. You are far better drunk."
Bohemian Recommends
Cacio e Pepe at Roma Sparita - Simple and delicious.
Salumeria Roscioli - Simply the best, better than all the rest.
Pizzarium - Pizza redux.
Colosseum at sunset.
St. Peters Tomb at St. Peter's Basilica
The Catacombs at St. Sebastiano
DB Bahn you have competition. Trenitalia knows how to do it. Complimentary prosecco for those in 1st Class, 24 hr wi-fi for one cent. Our train from Venice put us into Rome late afternoon. We got our introduction to the Rome metro, descending upon escalator to escalator into the recesses of the ground to be whisked quickly across the city towards our hotel, a twenty minute walk from the Vatican.
We were hot. We were sweaty. We still had the pizza from Mestre in our minds. We kicked off our boots and took a walk. One of the recommended spots were found was a place called La Gatta in the Monteverde backwoods. We were just eager enough that La Gatta wasn't even open by the time we got there. We killed some time chowing down on some cannoli and grabbing a drink at a bar across the street. I was introduced to an Aperol spritz, which is a lot of orange and a lot of fun in an stemmed wine glass.
La Gatta specializes in thin crust pizza, when in reality apparently they keep a foot in either camp of paper thin Roman crust and fluffy, chewy Neopolitan. The crust in Mestre was paper thin, floppy almost. La Gatta had the crust that you saved to eat after the pizza was done. We tried a margherita pizza, as part of our research project using Mestre as our benchmark, and a pizza bianco (meaning no tomato sauce) with mushrooms, mozzarella and sausage to finish. Mestre won. The decision was really quite quick. La Gatta's pizza, excellent. For places to eat in Rome, especially pizza places, I would recommend La Gatta in a heartbeat though don't rely on GoogleMaps to get you there. But Mestre had a furious hold on us.
The next day, with ready bellies we headed out. Armed with our map, we wandered the riverside. There is a reason they call Rome the Eternal City because it would take you an eternity to see everything. When you are there for a limited amount of time, you limit what you want to see. You pick the big things and you forget the things that just won't fit. But if you had the time, you could walk Rome FOR DAYS. Taking from our time in Venice, we wandered and figured things out as we walked. We saw the Spanish Steps, which lead from Piazza del Spagna which lead to Piazza del Monti. We took in what is supposed to be the best cannoli in Rome at Dagnino, which tasted like a donut and the flavour lingered in your mouth long enough that you contemplate walking halfway across Rome for another one.
You happen upon the Trevi Fountain as if it's just another street sign, the reach of Poseidon so much larger and the movement of the horses so much more dynamic than pictures can even suggest. A couple swats and elbowings through the crowd and an eventual climb over the railing, one can arrive at the edge of the fountain and flick a coin in for good luck. You get past the pizzerias hawking 11 euro pizzas to the famished Trevi Fountain seekers and you come upon Hadrian's Mall, the massive remnants of the first shopping mall. Down the steps and round the front, you are spit out in front of Monumento Nazionale a Vittorio Emmanuele II, affectionately called "the typewriter", a monument to the first king of a unified Italy, Vittorio Emmanuele II. Most Romans hate it, thinking it to be an eyesore. It's either too white, too big, or it's the unfortunate reality that part of historic Capitoline Hill was destroyed in order to build it. You can wander for hours without a map and see half of the things you were looking for by accident.
We replicated pattern we have created thus far on this trip which is Moozh finds the best off-the-beaten-track foodie gem, and I take us to the Jewish Quarter. When doing our preliminary foodie research on Rome, we got pretty excited. No matter what you're in the mood for, or what your budget it, Rome will have your expectations beat. Salumeria Roscioli, located in the Centro Storico neighbourhood, tucked away behind the Argentina line and minutes away from the river, is what could crudely be described as a deli. I slap my own hand as I say that because it is so far beyond any deli you have ever seen. Upon entering, the right wall is lined front to back, floor to ceiling with local Italian wines, everything from plummy Barolos to chocolately, warm Sardinians, spicy Valpolicellas to inky Super Tuscans. What lies along the left side is what seizes your attention. Full legs of pancetta, proscuitto hang along the back wall. Balls of fresh buffalo mozzarella bob in water. Bowls of marinated artichoke hearts, roasted red peppers and wheels of cheese the size of sidewalk blocks. We wandered around, mouths agape until one gentle man behind the counter wrapped some goodies in white paper and gestured towards the bakery, their sister restaurant, down the next lane. We didn't bother with bread. We didn't bother with sitting before we tore the packages open. A salty wedge of pecorino romano, translucent slices of proscuitto and two marinated artichokes kept us busy as we planned our next move.
The No Reservations episode of Rome is a perfect example of just what The Travel Channel will do for Anthony Bourdain. They'll dress him up. They'll showcase his wife. They'll film the entire episode in Black and White, as his tribute to Federico Fellini. But while Bourdain, though sometimes on the obnoxious side of eccentric, still knows how to choose 'em. After our artichokes, we sauntered along the river, shaded in the speckled light, past Trebi Island, towards the upwardly cool and popular neighbourhood of Trastevere. We were on the hunt for Roma Sparita. Again, in our eagerness, we were forced to kill time until it opened. We wander around Santa Cecilia just in time to see a wedding spill out, a blissful new couple doused in happiness and airborne rice. We got married in the summer so we are fully aware of what wedding traffic looks like in the summer months. (We know people who got married each day the weeks leading up to and following our wedding, as well as someone on the same day.) We have wandered into someone wedding photos by accident in nearly every European city we've been in.
We head to what I figured would probably be my haunt if I lived in Rome, a tiny bar aptly called "The Hole".We take in two classically Italian aperitifs, a Negroni and a Sbagliato, as the light turns peachy and Roma Sparita is open for business. Roma Sparita specializes in pasta, and it was to be our one, and only, deviation from our pizza 'research'. It keeps to the classics and does them right. Moozh had the amatriciana, a sauce of tomato, pecorino cheese, and pork, slathered on tube-like noodles. I had the cacio e pepe, or cheese and pepper pasta, served in a playful parmesan cheese bowl with some seasonal fried squash blosssoms as well.
Walking Trastavere at night is like stumbling across one thing after the next, lit in spotlight. Up Via Guisseppe Garibaldi, we stumbled upon the Panoramio, which lived up to it's name, an uninterrupted 360 of Trastavere to the Vatican. Rounding the corner, you find Pontificio Collegio San Pietro Apostolo, another large monument centuries old that is now functioning as the centre of a traffic circle. From there onwards, we quickly realized that Roman streets aren't really meant for pedestrians. We walked the entire Aurelia Antica, the entire 6 km of it, on a six inch shoulder. And with Italian drivers, like all European drivers, we certainly got an earful of what they thought.
Next stop, the Colosseum .Rome served us up a greyish day to see what of it's most famous landmarks. But even without sun the structures are no less majestic. Climbing the steps to the Capitoline, you see a replica of the oldest equestrian statue in the world, of Marcus Aurelius on horseback. Passing another wedding where the bride loves big hair, we passed under an archway to a panorama of the Roman Forum. Moozh figured out how to drink from the fountains that we've been seeing everywhere in Europe. The whole time we had been slurping from the palm of our hands, splashing our entirety with water, when had we simply plugged the spout of the faucet, there is a small hold drilled at the curve of the faucet that turns it into an easily accessible stream. Go figure. Tourists, oy.
Passing the gates to the Palatine and the Roman Forum, the Arch of Constantine rises in front of you with the window laced facade of the Colosseum. We had invested in a Roma Pass that garnered us to jump the line at the Colosseum and free public transit in the city, as well as free entry to one other museum in the city. The transit pass definitely made a difference to us as we were staying a little bit outside the historic centre of the city. But it really came in handy as we were walking up to the Colosseum to see a healthy line of people snaking through the admissions line outside. A quick scan of our pass and we were in. From the outside, the Colosseum is huge. But once you get inside, it feels much bigger. The rows and rows of seats that must have existed at one point is staggering but the tunnels below ground, which would have held gladiators, lions, bears and large pits truly is an engineering marvel. Gladiator wasn't lying.
Next was what used to be one of the last free historical sites in Rome, the Roman Forum. It has now become part of a package, in which you pay for the Colosseum and can then see the Roman Forum and the Palatine museum. The fact that some of these ruins are still in existence given the time and history that has past in the meantime puts it so much in perspective. They can start to just look like a bunch of crumbling rock. But then you realize the age of each of these things, and their purpose back in their day. That's when you realize how small you are. And how impermanent.
We headed from the Colosseum back over to Centro Storico to try out Roscioli's sister restaurant, Roscioli Al Forno, with high expectations for their pizza bianco. Closed on Sundays. Ok. Across the street, Chowhounders had raved about a pizza place with cheap margherita pies called Pizza Florida. Closed Sundays and Mondays. Hmm. With Roscioli Al Forno closed for the day and no Pizza Florida, we took in pizza al taglio, which means pizza by the slice, at a small joint called Pizza Art. Now 'pizza al taglio' is a common way that 'fast food' pizza joints do pizza in Rome. These places put the whole concept of pizza by the slice to shame. Slabs topped with goats cheese, pancetta and artichoke hearts or squash blossoms and fresh tomatoes, the pizza is cut and then priced by weight. This is not thin crust pizza. This is a focaccia-like crust, piled high with delicious toppings. You can try as many different kinds, slices of any size. We could have stayed there all afternoon. But it's good we didn't.
Any preconceptions I had about gelato from the stuff we had in Venice was blown out of the water. Gelateria del Teatro is by far the best and most inspirational gelato I have EVER had, anywhere ever, and will ever in my life. It was like going to Pierre Herme and having the skies part and Saint Honore herself billow down to hand me something that would so redefine and inspire my desires for my pastry career. Now I have mentioned before that I have a bit of a bizarre palate. I love flavour combinations, presentation methods and ingredients that surprise me, intrigue, that make me want to pursue them. I had Lavender and White Peach along with Basil and White Chocolate. Moozh had Sicilian Wine Cream and Raspberry and Garden Sage. Each flavour had balance and beautiful freshness. I would have gone back to try everything they had. The softspoken shop owner was generous and patient while I slobbered all over the glass. Moozh dragged me out by my fingernails.
Make some pasta. Add some cheese. Add some pepper. That's all you need. And maybe some wine.
Things I learned in Rome:
Pizza al Taglio = bomb dignity.
When in Rome, always keep your eyes open or you will miss something that is just hidden enough.
Quote from Rome Pt 1: Moozh: "Babe, you do this weird chicken thing when you talk. It's like you're pecking your point across."
Runner Up: Moozh: "You know why Rome wasn't built in a day. Because nobody here knows what the f*** they're doing."
Rome Pt 2
At this point, I'm trying to figure how to move to Rome. And maybe how we can get 'lost' near Gelateria del Teatro. What we knew we had to take in while in Rome where their markets. The produce in Italy tastes unlike produce you get back in Canada. Pomodoro tomatoes, completely unadulterated, adorn pizzas across the city. They're dumped in pots, merely heated with some pork cheek and slathered on pasta. They are bitten into after a quite polish with the corner of your shirt on a street corner. You taste it and can only think, "What IS that?" But Italy has a market that can kick the ass off of any Whole Foods or Trader Joe's nonsense. Eataly was founded by the same guy who kind of led charge of the Slow Food movement. Eataly was his response to the first McDonalds arriving in Rome. He believed it was so against Italian culture, so against what they stood for and what they were capable of. So he started a market where everything is made fresh, many things are made in house, without preservatives, by hand. He even brought in the guys who make Dogfish beer to make their house brand beer. They have a pizza bar, a pasta bar, a specialty coffee bar (which in Italy is no joke), fresh buffalo mozzarella, charcuterie, ciabatta. Ciabatta, focaccia, schiacciata, the Italians have been rather productive with bread I'd say. They have a friteria, which is a fried food bar, where they freshly fry squash blossoms, arancini (risotto balls), etc. Fresh olives and produce cover the bottom floor. They have an olive exhibit for your education. After I had fogged up the glass of the buffalo mozzarella kitchen, where freshly pulled mozzarella was bobbing in twenty gallon tubs, and Moozh had been brushed away from the charcuterie pavilion and wiped the slobber from his chin, we grabbed some Cerginolas and headed to the bus stop that would take us to the Catacombs.
Due to tourists, we weren't able to see the Parisian catacombs so we were determined to preplan for Rome so as not to miss their catacombs. The catacombs differ quite a bit. The Parisian Catacombs run beneath the entirety of the city. Nearly ever street in Paris has a catacomb tunnel running beneath it, some of which have caved in, some of which lead no where but many of which are used often, legally or otherwise. The catacombs in Rome lie on the outskirts of the historical centre and are mostly connected with a church that date back to the time of the early apostles in the first and second centuries.
This is where "All roads lead to Rome" began. There are numerous different catacombs that you can take in. San Callixtus seemed to be the most popular but we were advised if we wanted some less busy to try out the San Sebastiano. It lived up to everything said about it. The Church attached to San Sebastiano isn't anything magisterial, aside from the fact that it has A BERNINI IN IT. Bernini's last work, a bust of Christ, sits in a backlight enclave just inside the church. Not anywhere did we read anything about the sculpture. The Church itself is free. It's only the tour of the catacombs that comes with an admission price. Photos are allowed free of charge. There is also a sculpture of Saint Sebastian that was designed by Bernini but completed by someone else. Saint Sebastian was an early apostle of Christianity who spread the gospel throughout the Roman Empire. He was a soldier in the Roman Empire, which seems like a conflict of interests to say the least, and he was expelled from the army and shot with arrows. He survived the shots, was nursed back to health, began to travel with the gospel before he was found again by Roman soldiers, tied to a tree and beaten until dead. He was made a saint and a martyr so as to make all that effort worth it. Within the catacombs, where there are no photos allowed, there is the site of the original underground church that was built there, with mentions of the apostles Peter and Paul having been there. There is something about the catacombs where I had to somehow tell myself I was not where I was. I am mildly claustrophobic. By mildly I mean I become apoplectic if you hold a blanket over my head, and I can't watch National Geographic scuba diving specials. You keep descending into the catacombs, level by level. They are pleasantly cool, though, and our group was only five strong. The catacombs are beautiful and reveal a gorgeous burial history. Entire families would be buried together, at times in a mass grave, not only to conserve space but also so that surviving family members could visit the tomb and create a kind of shrine.
Back in the city, we were spit out near the Termini station and decided to take in what is said to be the best porchetta in Rome. The family at Er Buchetto has been serving up porchetta on a crusty bun since 1890. Moozh said he had had better, at Meat + Bread in Vancouver no less, and then began to talk about how he would do it better. THAT made me want a porchetta sandwich. Porchetta, bare bones. We stopped by Dagnino for another cannoli -it's all research on this trip folks- as we waited for Santa Maria della Vittoria to open. Another church, on the other side of the fountain, caught my eye because of some cool artwork on it's door. Large brass door with moulded figures leaping out front their surface. Santa Maria Angeli dei Martiri contained some of the coolest artwork we saw in all of Europe inside a church. After San Sebastiano, we had learned that some of the most beautiful artwork can be found in the most unlikely of places. Had della Vittoria been open, I would have snapped a shot of the Angeli dei Martiri altogether and miss everything it had. I would absolutely recommend it as a stop worth seeing to anyone going to Rome. You get tired of the 'typical' angelic statues. Everything was truly massive. We did still go Santa Maria della Vittoria, which we had to stop into because it contains another Bernini statue, tucked and hidden away, the Ecstasy of Saint Theresa. Elaborately gilt with copious marble and slate, there was something about it that seemed somewhat underwhelming after Angeli dei Martiri.
The next day began with Piazza Navona. Which lead to the Pantheon. A temple originally built in the first century as a temple to the gods, which was later rebuilt by Emperor Hadrian (his stuff LASTS), it later became a Roman Catholic church dedicated to Saint Mary and the Martyrs. Which led to impromptu limoncello tasting at a small shop along the way. Which led to teaching two other travellers how to drink from the fountains and a four year olds best attempt at sing talking-street music. The real thing.
Next stop was the Capuchin Crypt. It used to be free, which it is no longer, and they now have a much stricter no photos policy. They have added a museum to the crypt, which is likely where the new cost comes in. Also make sure you have something to cover your shoulders with. The museum was interesting but all I really wanted to see was the crypt. Intricate and elaborate sculptures and tableaus sculpted out of the skeletons of monks. You would expect it to be slightly...morbid. It is certifiably eerie, but simultaneously elegant. It's a recommended stop even given the new admission cost.
At Al Forno Roscioli earlier we had swung by their vineria and picked up a bottle of Sardinian wine, Lillove. Back in May when we were taking our second level wine certification, WSET, we tried a Sardinian wine, Cannonau, that was the definition of putrid in my opinion. It smelled of sweat and earth, with what I thought was a bland palate. In general, I was not a fan. Moozh liked it so much he took the bottle home with him. Being a Pinot Tragic, he loves the funk and earthen, 'forest floor' characteristics. He has a palate that I trust implicitly and am infinitely impressed by. Thusly, I wanted to give Sardinia another chance and Lillove, or L'il Love as we deemed it, was a chocolately rich antithesis to the Cannonau. It was rich and round with black currant and black fruit. With the sky opened up in colour, we headed back towards the Colosseum to make up for the pictures we had taken a few days earlier. What a difference a blue sky makes.
Another nondescript hideaway in Rome is the Santa Maria del Poppolo. A block off from the Flamino metro station, we slid (and I quite literally SLID) through it's door on a soggy day on our way to the Borghese Gallery. Santa Maria del Popplo is one of many places in Rome where you can see Caravaggio paintings free of charge. Caravaggio being Moozh's favourite, and considering that we were paying to see a handful of other Caravaggios at the Borghese Gallery, it was worth the stopover. del Poppolo is located in the beautiful Piazza del Popolo, a piazza we definitely would have hung around to see more had the weather not been so waterlogged. Inside, the church was somewhat reminiscent of Angeli dei Martiri, with some more traditional artwork paired with more interesting, modern pieces. Tucked in the back left corner, Conversion on the Way to Damascus and The Crucifixion of Peter.
Rome's underground metro is probably one of the best we experienced in Europe. They can take that to the bank. Their tram service sucks. And of course we came to this realization on a day that POURED. The Villa Borghese occupies a large piece of real estate in the centre of Rome. The Borghese Family is one of old wealth, with noble and papal ties. Way back when a family led army overthrew the papacy in Rome, the Black Nobility sided with the Pope, who confined himself to Vatican City as a prisoner in a way to refuse the new, coup-enforced rule. Their black clothing was a symbol of their mourning his confinement. All that is to say, in Rome, the Borghese hold sway. They also have a TON of stuff. When we were at the Louvre, many of the neo-classical statues and art pieces were on loan from the Borghese collection. The Borghese Gallery, which is held at the Villa, houses the remainder of their collection and there didn't look to be many empty spaces due to their generosity.
The Gallery contains the most of Bernini's statues of anywhere in the world. Bernini's works have something…else, something no other statues have. His statue of David has an expressiveness that goes beyond simply a moment. One of my favourites, his sculpture of Apollo and Daphne, describes the myth with so much movement, Daphne's fingers and hair turning to laurel branches and her toes reaching down into roots. The Rape of Proserpina, though a harsh myth, is a gorgeous statue. Pluto's fingertips actually leave indents in her thigh as he grabs her. It adds a fleshiness to the statue; it feels real. Caravaggio's David with the Head of Goliath has such a beautiful use of colour. There is a reason these men live beyond their own lives. They were able to convey moments in a way no one else seemed to be able to.
Last stop, the Vatican. The smallest sovereign state in the world, Vatican City is ruled by the Bishop of Rome, sometimes referred to as the Pope. The Vatican houses a massive museum of everything from Ancient Egyptian sarcophagi to fifteen foot square tapestries that chronicle nearly the entire history of the Catholic Church. Full scale frescoes by Michaelangelo and Raphael. It contains some of the most famous churches, not only in Rome but, in the world. Our day for the Vatican was similar to our day at Villa Borghese, cold and wet. We pre-booked tickets, available at one of the Post Offices within the Square, which allowed us to skip the massive cue that still wrapped around the entire wall of the Vatican even given the drizzle. The Vatican, because of it's sovereignty, has the right to it's own postal service. With Italian post being, from all accounts, notoriously slow, and the postal workers less than enthusiastic to assist you, many locals recommended that you send any post from the Vatican not only for the keepsake value of something arriving with 'Poste Vaticane' stamped on it but also for the likelihood that it will actually reach it's location.
The Modernist exhibit was amazing and a refreshing take on familiar themes. Our favourite, and a potential tattoo for Moozh, was Gerardo Dottori's "Crucifissione". Up a flight of stairs, you are ushered into what feels like small room that is VERY crowded. You are told to keep moving, and then you toss a glance upwards and are faced with Michaelangelo's fresco. The Sistine Chapel. It's all there, every piece of it that you've ever heard of. The walls are much higher, the room much smaller, and much emptier than I would have thought. But you can't stop staring. That is until you feel light headed and you need to sit down. Though there are small signs everywere saying that no photos are allowed, next to no one pays attention to that. Flashes going off everywhere.
Slipping through a door and down some stairs, we come around the North side of St. Peter's Basilica. My traction-less flip flops are hydroplaning on the rain-glossy marble. I am shooed away from the doors for wearing shorts. Granted, my shorts are definitely on the 'short' side of pants. Their on the 'short' side of anything within a hand's width of my knees. They didn't seem to mind Moozh's shorts and he thusly, channeling his best McGyver, wrapped my legs in his rain jacket to the guards approval and we moved inside. St. Peter's Basilica, in all of it's glory, is free to the public. It's already been paid for all of those who believed that they needed to buy their way into heaven. The sheer magnitude of it all, I have no idea how you would concentrate during Mass if that were your church. I am stopped in my tracks by a statue of white marble and emotion, Michaelangelo's Pieta. Christ draped over his mother's lap after his crucifixion. She holds him with such gentleness, her face conveying so much more than sadness, rather the complexity of a mother's grief.
Beneath one of the many large statues are stairs that spiral down beneath the basilica, leading to the Grotto, where the bones of St. Peter are believed to be buried. Many other Popes and other royal figures are entombed here but the tomb of St. Peter is entirely unique. It held Moozh's attention, without flinching, for easily fifteen minutes. Back above, you find another Bernini, this time a pavilion-type platform that is involved in the Eucharist service, called a baldacchino. In front of it is Bernini's Cathedra Petri, which is a piece he designed to display what was believed to be the Throne of St. Peter. Gold rays radiate out from behind it. From there we saw a nun texting while she was praying. I saw more than one woman throw a fit at the doors because they wouldn't let her in with shorts or bare shoulders. Three kids played tag around the baldacchino. You walk around feeling small in such a large place. But you watch the liturgy of those who have made the pilgrimage here for their faith, and you see that this is more than just a tourist jaunt for so many. Here it is a holy place, the genesis of something truly meaningful in their lives.
From there, it was our last foodie stop of Rome. One stop from the Vatican station, a mere block away from the Spagna metro, is a pizza al taglio joint called Pizzarium. Even the name is exciting. Gabriele Bonci is a chef in Rome making waves with his unique pizza toppings and phenomenal crust. Toppings from the elaborate, like foie gras and cherry or mortadella and black chickpea, to one of their most famous, and most simple, their pizza rosso, which is simply their pomodoro sauce and cheese. House wine comes cheap, poured from a coffee spigot into plastic cups. Those working the counter provided great rapport and are enthusiastic about the pizza. First we tried their 'pizza rosso' and a slice that appeared to have some kind of ratatouille on it. Phenomenal. Potatoes + pizza = always. Once those disappeared, a piece of Margherita, with fresh basil and newly pulled mozzarella, and another big seller, pecorino and potato. Again. Potatoes + pizza = always. Bonci recently came out with a cookbook, Il Gioco della Pizza, for his famous pizza crust if one simply can't make it to one of his pizza workshops. As soon as I have counterspace again that book is going on it. We left firmly knowing that Romans KNOW food. Like some people know their own children, Romans know food.
Things I learned in Italy:
Potatoes + pizza = always.
When in Rome, EAT.
House wine is a great way to round out an Italian meal and a surefire way to a headache the next morning.
Quote from Italy:
Moozh: "Babe you are like a fine wine. You are far better drunk."
Bohemian Recommends
Cacio e Pepe at Roma Sparita - Simple and delicious.
Salumeria Roscioli - Simply the best, better than all the rest.
Pizzarium - Pizza redux.
Colosseum at sunset.
St. Peters Tomb at St. Peter's Basilica
The Catacombs at St. Sebastiano