You could do worse than “Al Pompiere.” In the heart of the Jewish Ghetto, the restaurant has been around since 1962 — no mean feat for an eatery anywhere in the world, but especially in a city with culinary competition as stiff as Rome.
In particular, it’s a place to come when you’re looking for classic cucina romana. What Rome-based food writer Katie Parla calls “the holy trinity of Roman pasta dishes” all make their appearances on the menu. My carbonara tasted a little undersalted and didn’t play quite enough on the pecorino’s (or the pepper’s) zing, but the consistency was perfect and the pasta fresh.
The biggest draw to Al Pompiere, though, is its fried offerings. The carciofi alla giudia (Jewish-style artichoke) had just the right crunch; the filetta di baccalà (fried salt cod) was soft and flaky on the inside, crisp on the outside. Then there were the fiori di zucca ripieni (stuffed zucchini flowers), which were, quite simply, grossly delicious: There’s nothing like squishing a piece of food with your fork and seeing grease spurt out. (All three are pictured above. Just looking at the photo makes you feel like you’re hurting your arteries, doesn’t it?).
What the restaurant lacked, though, was atmosphere. Set on the second floor of a palazzo and nearly empty for Saturday lunch, it felt awkwardly roomy — and with tablecloths covering the tables, a tad too elegant for the down-to-earth fare. With not an Italian dining in sight, I had to doubt Fodor’s claim that it’s a “neighborhood favorite.” Maybe I caught it on an off day. Or maybe it’s simply been around too long.