When in Rome...Eat
The Missus is a consummate planner. Every day she’s in her “Command Center” planning for a host of events from grocery shopping to European vacations. Oh, it’s not like I’m clueless. When trip plans are afoot, we confab. Like our latest trip to Rome. I’ve wanted to go to Pompeii ever since I saw that issue of National Graphic with the petrified pup on the cover in 1964, it was hauntingly tragic. She wanted to go back to the Vatican and climb to the top of St. Peters just like she did over 50 years ago just to take a photo she could compare to the one she had.
We discussed these and other ideas and she planned it all: a tour of the Vatican, a day trip to Pompeii, a food crawl in the Trastevere neighborhood, a tour of the Borghese Gallery, another of the Colosseum, a cooking class, a day trip to Tivoli, and finally Sunday Mass…oh yes and prodigious consumption of Italian cuisine…and wine.
Finally, it was go time. We flew to Charlotte then to Rome. In an absolute first, I slept on the plane. I nodded off when the little plane on the screen was just south of Nova Scotia and woke up as it poked its little nose into southern France. So, I wasn’t quite the zombie I usually was. Peg always naps. She’s been flying since the early 70s. Customs was a breeze. We found our car service, and we were on our way to Maison Tritone, our home away from home for the next twelve days.
They upgraded us to a more spacious room. That it was directly off the breakfast area gave me pause but I quickly discovered it would not be a problem. Breakfast was included and quite good. We ate there every morning. Very European with a lot of choices, different coffees, fruits, breads, pastries, eggs, yogurts, and meats. The only hitch was the 68 steps leading to the room. I worried about the knee, though excepting those days that involved a lot of walking, I managed. I had my ice pack which they kept frozen for me every day. Consistent tipping helped. We unpacked, freshened up and then left for a walking tour Peg had arranged.
We discovered almost immediately crowds were ubiquitous. Even though this was the ‘off season’ getting around was a challenge. We arrived where we thought the meeting point would be but never connected. Ultimately, we had to move on. As we made our way back to the room, we paused to look at a menu. It looked good so we dove in. There were a lot of “It looked good, so we dove in..” moments. No matter where we went this was the gloriously consistent condition. The only variable was it was better the further from the crowds we got.
There was Carbonara here, a Bolognese there, an Amatriciana over there, and raviolis in a white sauce, a red sauce, or with a little garlic, lemon, and olive oil somewhere else. One place served a credible Salade Niçoise. All with great wines. There’s some links to some favorite places at the end of the piece.
These meals were the epitome of the saying “The fewer the words the better the prayer”. More about this later.
One such experience involved the Negresco. It was towards the end of our trip. We were at a grocery store near the Spanish Steps. Peg was shopping for gifts. I was exploring. I noticed a man, several years my senior, but a dapper dresser, wandering the store with his hands clasped behind him. He noticed me about the same time I noticed a tiny pin on his lapel, in the shape of the state of Alabama. It started a conversation. His name was Federico and he owned Negresco just up the street from the grocery store. In the 90s he met a man from Alabama at the restaurant and struck up a similar conversation. The man talked about his daughter’s upcoming wedding and, as many Southerners do, invited him. He went, surprising the man, who, much like Southerners do, welcomed him to the celebration. As the man was of substantial means (he flew his daughter and newly minted son-in-law to Miami for their honeymoon in a chartered helicopter) he made every effort to make Federico comfortable arranging him a stay at a condo in Destin for ten days. In any event Federico invited us to his place for lunch the next day. Our last full day.
The next morning, due to the fact that Peg was suffering through an allergic reaction she had to some medication she used earlier, had to go to the emergency room. We arrived at 9:50 am and departed 7:30 pm. Suffice it to say it was an arduous experience. Upon her release she still wanted to go. So, we did. (This woman is a real trooper). We took a cab to the place. He was there and happy to see us. When he heard what had happened, he took us under his wing. Of course, the staff took notice. He sat with us for a bit sharing a glass of wine before dinner which was made so much better due to the service which was sublime.
The next morning, we left for Philadelphia.
Next up, the activities.