Why Elizabeth Gilbert found it necessary to visit three countries to Eat Pray and Love I do not know, as I found Rome facilitated all three just fine. I am gonna do three separate posts about Rome, the first entitled EAT...
Our first night in the eternal city my mum and I headed out late and were really only interested in being fed and watered and heading back to bed. We chose a restaturant I had found recommended on the web called Antico Casale. I felt like I was in an Italian film - vespas in the background, checked tableclothes, a coltish alley cat wrapping itself around the table legs in the hopes of a few scraps. Not a tourist in sight, our limited phrase book got good exercise as we tried to italian our way through the menu. Our tongues, loosened by a pleasant 3 Euro caraffe of casa de vino, butchered the names of our dishes, but the waiter listened patiently.
Upon the arrival of our meals I realised how the English speaking world has misinterpreted pasta - instead of being about endless ingredients, spices and herbs, the key here seemed to be simplicity and freshness. My gnocchi (perfection) was served with cherry tomatoes and sticky, creamy tuscan cheese and was a revalation of earthy tastes, while my mum had a hearty portion of spaghetti with prawns and zucchini, both rich flavours harmonising, without being stampeded by a tomato or cream base. Heavenly, and so simple. We finished with a shared scoop of italian gelato - creamy and tasting perfectly of nut truffle.
As we discussed our meals - bowled over by the purity of the food (Oh god, I sound evangelical and we are not even on the PRAY post yet...) - we realised that the combinations were simple enough, it was the quality of the ingredients that we don't have in the rest of the world.
Our other highly notable culinary experience was on day 3. After a tiresome morning of touristing around Rome the mater and I made a beeline for Obika, a bar with a difference. Pointed in this direction by fabulous foodie Jo, Obika is a mozzarella bar - the first of it's kind. It's got a Japanese zen feeling to it, and after the chaos of an infinite number of trattoria it's simple menus of mozzarellas and accompaniment seemed a blessing.
There was a choice of four buffalo mazzarellas, ranging from strong and smoky to creamy and sweet. I opted for the sweet and creamy variety, partnered with basil pesto and beautiful cherry tomatoes, while mum decided on a stronger version with salami and fresh basil. Mine arrived in a riot of the Italian tricolore, beautifully laid out and looking all freshly picked. The best word for this meal would be LUSH. Some divine combination of Italian sun and soil seems to render this sort of produce some sort of platonic ideal. The tomatoes become worthy of Pablo Neruda poetry, the mozzarella conjures up scenes of pastoral bliss and all served with a crisp white wine - I felt certain this was how food was meant to be. I managed to barter some tomatoes and pesto for some salami and was so glad I had. All round it was the most different and best meal I had in Rome. I hear one has opened in London, a hard act to follow but I am going to give it a shot.
And so that ridiculous amount of adjectives brings to a close the EAT post.
