Giorno Tre

So, we attempted to visit the Vatican museum (for the art) but forgot that of course it wouldn't  be open on a Sunday. So  we went to see the Ara Pacis instead which was absolutely beautiful. I'm really rather glad that the Vatican wasn't open now, as it gave us the chance to see this! Then up we walked to Piazza Popolus  via Via Cavour where leggy coiffed women in fur and handbags were swooping like vultures on the Armani and D&G sales. Exhausted men followed weighed down with bags, wallet and phone in hand coming when called. 

We only stopped for a quick look as we had to catch the metro to Tiburtina in order the get the bus to Siena. We arrived to find out that contrary to the online timetable and that given to us at the tourist office, our bus was not at 2pm but 3.30pm. So we had to settle for lunch in cafe Gemini next to the station which is the best looking of a bad bunch. We try to take as much time over our paninis as possible so as to have somewhere to sit whilst waiting, away from the exhaust fumes and smokers. They don't look bad, we have bread with sesame seeds and olives, and a filling of grilled courgettes and aubergines, cheese and salad accompanied by a cold peroni. They are certainly not the most thrilling of sandwiches I have ever eaten, particularly compared with the ones we had near the forum.  We can't decide whether it is a good thing that they are only hot on the outside due to the salad in the filling or whether the cold grilled vegetables are worse that hot salad.

We eventually arrived in Siena and Senem had kindly taken the four quails from the freezer for me. I wanted to make the same dish as I had done before with Josh, of ginger, lemon and vin santo but I didn't have fresh ginger or lemons so substituted garlic and ground ginger.  I then very inexpertly prepared the quails with the other ingredients and made a stock from their necks and an onion. As you might expect, the same brilliant effect could never be recreated with ground ginger but it wasn't a bad dinner accompanied by peas ( the only vegetables in the house) and a glass of vin santo.

Lessons learnt and ready for bed!

#http://en.arapacis.it/

Giorno due

Fresh from the wonders of the colosseum where human blood from the unlucky ones was drunk (believed to be remedial), and the lesser mauled parts of animal flesh sold afterwards (inedible parts given to the next batch of wild creatures to eat) we climbed up to the Palatine hill with its beautiful Boni gardens where the only oranges left in the grove were too high for scrumping. So we ate half a luxurious chocolate square each made by a little known chef in Blandford (Caroline!) to silence the pangs.

After visiting the Casa di Augustus with it's famous wall paintings we opted for lunch  at about 3pm at same cafe as yesterday. Pizza this time of prosciutto, mushroom and eggs which was again a good choice.

Onwards to the oldest bridge in Rome,the Ponte fabricio and the isola in the middle of the great river. Across the bridge we found a part of Rome with an alternative atmosphere, Trastevere. We are fans of this type of area and Trastevere has realised that we are not the only ones, it takes full advantage of the current fashionableness of its boutiques, artisans and eccentric  restaurants. Despite the expensiveness of some places, we found some bargain gems - I bought  a mohair,wool and acrylic mix oatmeal jumper whilst Mum bought a silk, wool mix top too in a shop called Habana. It's all about the feel of the fabric in this case, soft, warm and light -  as a fabric snob, I will never accept more than 50% manmade fibres at most (unless its the most fabulous thing ever, see the next boutique we visit - after all, rules are made to be broken!)

When we reach Campo dei fiori  sadly all the fruit and veg stalls are packing up so we move on and make a beeline for Punta Gelato to cheer ourselves up.  Mum has  marrons glacé with ricotta stracciatella, a subtle and velvety combination. I have  a classic chocolate and orange with grand marnier scoop and and out  of curiosity  something called pino mugo. Rather than burning my mouth with the flavour of floor disinfect or assaulting my nostrils with the headache inducing smell of pinefresh air fresheners  pino mugo is rather more like a sophisticatedly herby aperitif. Whilst the flavour is distinctive and lingers on the tongue, I am captivated and refreshed by it, and if an ice cream can feel healthy, this is it.  The extracted and distilled resin from mountain pine cones boasts many qualities, to list but a few, it is known to be an antiseptic and mucolytic, aid circulation, combat muscular cramp, rheumatic pain and strengthen the immune system.

After a cursory visit to the Vatican City, we headed back to Trastevere. On the way we found a fabulous  vintage place called  "Bohemienne vintage", I had tried to tear myself away from the window but being a complete addict, it was inevitably impossible. This is another thing I love about Italy: the shops are often open in the evenings, making shopping feel much more romantic - a dangerous thing, I know. Anyway, we entered and were immediately welcomed by all within. Two tall Italian women whirled about two young American girls who giggled amiably as they were dressed up in various equally stunning modes. Having quietly sifted in the background for a while, a black and red floral dress drew my eye. Missing nothing, the modelesque proprietor pulled it from the rail and enticed me to try it on. I countered that it wasn't 'me', I'm not brave enough for bold colours and prints. But we were enjoying ourselves and feeling adventurous, anything the women suggested for the Americans had worked instantly, so on it went. And yes, I fell in love with  a dress made from mostly polyester and a bit of spandex! Now all I need is an occasion and no Swansea, not you, the hemline is far too low. Siena? Yes, but I now find myself lusting after an appropriate pair of heels to match, for the dress demands them.

So, it was a long day of discoveries and we found ourselves near the end of it with very tired feet and on the verge of collapsing before finding the right restaurant having turned down a few. This time it was to be the  Osteria/Enoteca ditta Trinchetti, next door to the one with the sign outside saying "we hate war and tourist menus" which had looked to be good but on closer inspection was more interested in selling its political ideas than great food. So their understated neighbour got the go-ahead and in we tiredly traipsed to find a wonderfully  relaxing yet quirky atmosphere  with balls of wool hanging from the ceiling and Katie Melua playing gently in the background. 

 Having seen a man get served a vibrant looking dish of king prawns, I decided that I had to have whatever it was and I wouldn't be put off by his brawling demand in American English for the ingredients of the dish which are stated on the menu. Later I discovered that he must have been capable of speaking Italian, his friends spoke nothing but - how perplexing and very rude. But this is the one thing you can't rely on in restaurants, the other diners. I suppose you could (and some do) filter them, but I don't agree with that sort of elitism and I don't believe it works either - some people just pretend to have manners and some people think they are above them. Perhaps this is why if you enjoy good food, you should at least try to make it yourself, for holding your own dinner parties is by far the best way of ensuring your evening isn't marred by disagreeable people!

Any way, the antipasto of gamberoni (king prawns) on chickpea soup was a sensation to my tongue (two in a day!) with a surprising delicacy to the texture and taste of the chickpeas which complimented the prawns perfectly. Mum had a very eye-catching plate of octopus ravioli in lemon sauce. Each raviolo bore a snappy stripe of black ink and resisted being overpowered by the lemon. We had a jolly half litre of good house white between us which also suited our choices well and left in search of Sicilian Cannoli for pudding from a stall we had spied earlier on the way home. These are fantastic creations that appear like a brandy snap on the outside ( but of thicker fried and unflavoured pastry) and contain masses of creamy, sweet ricotta. The ends of ours were dipped in chocolate shards but there are many variations, such as pistachio or candied fruit. Messily we ate them whilst falling contentedly asleep at the hotel.


#Habana, Via dei Giubbonari 

#Punto Gelato, Via dei Pettinari, 43  http://www.puntogelato.info/

#Bohemienne Vintage, Via dei Cappellari, 96

#Osteria/Enoteca Ditta Trinchetti, Via della Lungaretta, 76 http://www.dittatrinchetti.it/Ditta_Trnchetti/Ditta_Trinchetti.html

Giorno Uno

Having spent an entire morning wandering around the Colonna Traiana, Monumento Vittorio Emanuele II (also scathingly referred to as the wedding cake or typewriter) and Museo Capitalini (amazing!)  we suddenly found ourselves feeling very tired and very hungry. Thus we were attracted to a particular cafe for lunch by it's superior and mountainous sandwich display. For Mum it had to be the tramezzino of spinach and mozzarella, for me a mouthwatering mixture of some of the things I am most partial to - a panino overflowing with prosciutto, cheese and sundried tomatoes.

Happily refueled, we went in search of the Roman Forum, Colosseum and Arco di Constantino, all of which were absolutely awe-inspiring. As the light was fading, we took a detour to the metro via part of the Domus Aurea, Emperor Nero's old pad which once extravagant in scale and rich decor is now ruined and decaying so onward we went to the famous Spanish Steps which were invisible for the tourists. So onward again through decadent streets with hotels boasting uniformed doormen and shops where you are seated and brought clothes to try on (we are scared of entering such shops, sadly it makes me feel like an impostor) en route to the Trevi Fountain. Although sublimely beautiful it is again blighted by the sheer numbers of tourists and bothersome hawkers.We throw our pennies in backwards in the hope of returning one day and head off for Piazza Navona by way of the Pantheon. On reaching the Piazza we orbit the three fountains for a bit, guessing which spout of water represents which great river and them succumb to sharing a fat-drenched, sugar coated ciambella - badly good.

Unsurprisingly though this is only temporary sustenance and hunger strikes again fast. Unwilling to be drawn to the first restaurant we find, we bypass a 'touristy restaurant street' with waiters employed specifically to lure you in (read 'deter us') and spot the Macelleria Maxela Ristorante. It fills the criteria: Menu in Italian, casually stylish and within our price range providing we don't go for any of the big numbers like steak fiorentina.

We are greeted with a candle, good bread mysteriously wrapped in a brown paper bag and a surprise welcome treat of elegantly presented pork skewers with a homemade tomato sauce. Mum orders beef tagliata with caramelised pears and balsamic vinegar. as we've decided that one of us just HAS to have it. It more than lives up to expectations, the beef is done to still-pinkish perfection, the vinegar is of the deliciously thick matured variety and there are flowers of salt dotted around it which lift the other flavours occasionally without overpowering them. I plump for chicken with aubergine and prosciutto crudo which is again a beautiful combination, perfectly cooked and seasoned. The red Syrah wine of Lazio that we drink with it is also lovely and suits both dishes well. Our appetites our satisfied but we decide to share a pudding again nevertheless (when in Rome...) and go for the one we've never heard of before. We are presented with a plate of things that appear much like the ciambella we ate earlier but are intrigued to find that they are actually much more. Some of the soft, fried 'biscuits' contain a milky filling with hints of lemon and vanilla whilst others  bore Nutella providing a contrast of both texture and flavour. Delicious.

We left feeling warm at heart not just thanks to the fantastic food but also the great service from softly-spoken, smiling waiters. The occasional loud cleaving of meat from the in-house butcher doing  his thing in the background just added to the quirky character of the restaurant and was a reassuring demonstration of the quality of the meat being served.


#Ristorante Macelleria Maxela, http://www.maxela.it/ristorante_roma2.htm

Dinner Numero Uno

I am twenty one, and sitting at a restaurant table in Rome having just ordered my first ever martini with my mother. She is sipping appreciatively at the aperitif 'della casa', a refreshing combination of Prosecco and what sounds like Aperol (at a guess - neither  my knowledge of Italian or of spirits is extensive enough YET) when I ask the waitress for a description. Mum says that my expression reminds her of a time when I was much, much younger tasting my first solid food, a carrot. Such joy and surprise.

We talk of food for the majority of our dinner, and the times when we do not it is because the food that we were talking of has evoked other memories of people and places past. This particular dinner will become one of those great memories, for we have stumbled upon together, an unassuming type of place down a side street where we are the only two foreigners in a room brimming with Italians. This can only be a good sign. I am marveling at the mushroom and pea sauce enveloping the succulent meat on my plate before I have even discovered the gem at the heart of it, ossobuco (marrowbone). Another first, and it is fantastic - I cannot believe how rich and delicate this forgotten substance is! Across the table, my mother gasps at the tenderness of her artichoke stalk, and we laugh over how one should eat such a thing, but it doesn't matter here.

For pudding, we can't resist and share a Mont Blanc as I have only my imagination to guide me on what this infamously named dessert entails. Of course, my mother knows. The waitress doesn't understand us (or is perhaps snubbing the french by pretending not to...) when we pronounce it "monblon" rather than "monblank". I am childishly excited to see mountains of cream and chestnut meringue arrive although it isn't quite the pyramid peak in shape as we had envisaged. Very sweet and unnecessary really after such a rich main course but still greatly enjoyed!

Having realised over this dinner together how central good food is to my life, I have started this blog in the hope of sharing a few good things.





#ristorante La Taverna dei Monti, Via del Boschetto, 41 (Via Nazionale)
http://www.tavernamonti.info/

#http://www.aperol.com/aperol/#