Even after living here for almost three years, I still have days and moments—lots of them—where this city continues to blow my mind.
Here, five reasons I'm loving Rome right now.
I once had a Cambridge professor call wisteria "garish." He'd be appalled at the sight of Rome these days. Wisteria, wisteria everywhere… even here, in the Roman forum.
A cupcake from Made Lab, a new-ish American-style-ish bakery on Via dei Coronari. I'm obviously a sucker for cupcakes, so discovering these guys this week was a thrill. Also, the cupcakes were damn good.
Gelato season has arrived. And there's perhaps no prettier place to enjoy super-fresh scoops than at Gelateria del Teatro, tucked just off Via dei Coronari (yes, I indulged in both gelato and cupcakes on my stroll there this week).
Although I am not, in general, a fan of the street performers that turn some of Rome's prettiest piazzas and heritage sites into circuses, I can't help from adoring this man. (The song he performed before this one, by the way, was "Old MacDonald Had a Farm."
When I first walked into Fraschetteria Brunetti*, a stone’s throw from Piazza del Popolo, I thought all of my senses were under assault.
If the bright-red walls and yellow tablecloths weren’t enough, they were covered in notes and hand-drawn pictures left by particularly appreciative (or drunk) clientele. Tables were jammed so closely together, and so packed—with people who kept jumping up and down to go out for smoke breaks or to call friends on their telefonini—that elbow-room wasn’t so much a commodity as something nobody had ever heard of, never mind required.
And then there was the noise. Want to have a conversation with your dining companion? Nah. Between the blaring pop and the equally-loud diners, you might as well be whispering at a discoteca.
If all of that sounds annoying… it was.
It was also completely, quintessentially—and, yes, endearingly—Roman.
Forget checkered tablecloths. If you want to experience “authentic Rome”—the Rome of young men shouting “OH, bell-ohhh” at their friends and of girls wearing Nike Airs and shiny jackets, the Rome of youth and fun and noise, of Romanaccio and worn-out, smoke-spitting scooters—then this is the place to come.
What’s that? The food, you say? You want me to write about the food?
Right. The food. In the celebration going on around me, I almost forgot to order. Never mind eat.
The food is… fine. There’s a cheap, fixed-price lunch menu from Mondays to Fridays—€9 for a primo, or for an antipasto and a secondo, each with a drink, coffee, and bread. Otherwise, an enormous antipasto of meats and cheeses came to €10; pastas are €10, and main courses €12—good prices for the area and for the amount of food (the portions were huge), less-good for the quality (granted, I did order a pasta with sausage and broccoli, but it was even greasier than I’d expected).
But perhaps the huge portions and the oiliness were all a part of the strategy. It seemed like at least three-quarters of the other diners were here to eat away their hangovers or, alternately, to keep the party going. (To be fair, it was early afternoon on a weekend. It might be far more staid on a weekday. Although the exuberant scrawls from former diners, hanging all over the restaurant, make me think it’s always like this).
Want to check the place out for yourself? Just make sure you bring your humor. After all, the Rome you’re diving into is “authentic”—but it might not be the one you’ve been picturing. And note: We did not receive a fiscal receipt here (just another way this place was super-Roman…). If you go, make sure you request a ricevuta fiscale.
Fraschetteria Brunetti is located at Via Angelo Brunetti 25b, right near Piazza del Popolo. Phone: +39 06 3214103.
*I’ve linked to the restaurant’s website for information’s sake, but I’m flabbergasted by the photos. Is that really what the place looks like without all the people packed inside? It’s almost… downright… sober-looking!
Tax evasion is a huge problem in Italy. By knowing how important a fiscal receipt is, and what it looks like, here’s how tourists can help.
Everyone knows that tax evasion is one of the biggest issues facing Italy's economy. But very few tourists to Italy know that they have the power to do something about it.
And should.
That's because tax evasion in Italy doesn't just happen in accountants' offices behind closed doors. It happens every time a product, meal, or coffee is sold. Why? Because Italian stores and restaurants have a book of "fiscal receipts" issued by the government—and legally, they need to give the customer a fiscal receipt (ricevuta fiscale) for each interaction. Each time they use a ricevuta fiscale, the government knows about the purchase… and the interaction is taxed.
Without issuing that ricevuta fiscale, it's like the interaction never happened. And, therefore, it's untaxed.
And so, guess what: You hardly ever see fiscal receipts in Italy. Especially if you're a tourist.
Restaurants and stores know that tourists have no idea what a fiscal receipt looks like versus a non-fiscal receipt. They also know that tourists have a tendency to think it's "cute" when their waiter does something like, say, scribble the total on the tablecloth or a napkin. Guess what? That's not a fiscal receipt. And that's not cute. It means that your meal isn't being taxed. It's going right into the owner's pockets, tax-free.
This has been a huge issue for, well, ages. It's something everyone knows, but—until recently—that nobody publicizes. It's part of a system that many Italians mistakenly believe benefits everyone: After all, it obviously helps owners, in the short term, especially since taxes are so high in Italy. And as a customer? If you're a regular, you know that, if you don't ask for a fiscal receipt, your local restaurant or drycleaner or whatever will give you a discount. Everybody wins.
Except, of course, that they don't.
In 2009 alone, Italians evaded about 120 billion euros in taxes—that's almost four times the value of Monti's new austerity budget. If Italy were as strict in collecting taxes as the U.K. and the U.S. over the last 40 years, economists have calculated, then the country's national debt would be 80 percent of GDP, not 120 percent.
Doesn't the government know about this, you ask? Aren't they doing anything? Well, sure. There's something called the Guardia di Finanza in Italy—think the IRS with guns—whose sole job is to make sure that fiscal interactions are done legally. Occasionally, they'll get a tip on a restaurant or shop. The problem? Because Italy is what it is, the establishment usually gets a tip-off that they're coming. And so, surprise! When the Guardia check the receipts they're issuing, they're suddenly fiscal.
With Monti's new government, though, things seem to be improving. There have just been several big stings that have shown just how bad tax evasion was—and not just in the much-maligned south, but in the supposedly-so-civilized north, too. In December, 80 tax inspectors swooped in on the tony ski town of Cortina d'Ampezzo in Italy's Dolomites. In the wake of the inspection, declared profits were suddenly up 400 percent from the previous season (gee whiz, how'd that happen?). In mid-January in Rome, an inspection of 292 businesses in one day found that 52% were in violation. And last weekend, the Guardia di Finanza targeted Milan. In the days after their blitz, reported income went up by 44 percent.
So. Well and good. But government can only do so much.
Consumers have to help, too.
Italians have started calling for boycotts among establishments that aren't issuing fiscal receipts. One of the leaders of the pack is Rome's own Puntarella Rossa, who has launched the campaign "No scontrino, no party" (no receipt, no party), encouraging diners to ask for fiscal receipts every time they eat—or to boycott the restaurant. Even more effectively, the restaurants in violation are being named and shamed. Citizens took the campaign seriously this week in Bari, for example, sending photos of the receipts they received, with the restaurants' names, to both the Guardia and to La Repubblica's blog on Bari.
It's a fantastic idea, and one that needs to spread. But it can be expanded to tourists, too. Because, with as many non-Italian diners and customers as there are in Rome and the rest of Italy, everyone needs to be a part of this for it to succeed.
So, folks: When you're dining in Italy, always ask for a "ricevuta fiscale." Don't accept hand-scribbled scraps of paper as receipts, and don't accept a receipt that says, at the top, "NON FISCALE" (not fiscal). Unless, that is, you don't mind supporting Italy's tax evasion—and the huge issues it's causing for not only Italy's economy, but the worldwide economy, too.
You could even take it a step further: Snap a photo of the illegal receipt and email it, with the restaurant's name, to puntarellarossa@hotmail.it.
Sometimes, I feel like I'm slaggingoffon Rome's restaurants more than anything else.
However. There is fantastic food in this city, and honest people serving it. You just have to know where to go.
When I need a no-fail, top-notch, not-too-expensive Italian meal (like when guests are in town), these are the three restaurants I now turn to. The food is fantastic, the service good, the atmosphere untouristy, the prices moderate. And I haven't found something surprising added to my bill. (Yet).
My top picks to eat in Rome…:
With a group of friends or family: Flavio al Velavevodetto
I was a little late to the Flavio al Velavevodetto lovefest, having been preceded by, among others, Slow Food founder Carlo Petrini. But I'm so glad I arrived.
Tucked into Monte Testaccio (if you don't believe that the hill comes from an enormous pile of Roman amphorae, thanks to being a dump in ancient times, just check out the restaurant's glass wall, above), Flavio al Velavevodetto serves up all the traditional Roman dishes, but in a way that makes even your 100th amatriciana taste almost, well, new. Don't miss their fritti, vegetables so lightly fried they remind me of tempura.
The other bonus of Flavio is the ambience. It's elegant and understated, and the interior is much roomier than at crammed little trattorie in the center. In the summer, you can dine out at the lovely terrace upstairs, a particularly good bet if your crowd is on the loud side. Plus, the serving staff is unfailingly polite and pretty fast—rare things for Rome.
Flavio al Velavevodetto is located at Via Monte Testaccio 97, a short walk from the Piramide metro stop. Or you can, of course, take the ever-present number 3 "foodie" bus to get there. Call +39 06 5744194 for reservations.
On a date: Da Danilo
I first stumbled into Da Danilo because it was just around the corner from my first apartment. Until the newspaper articles on the walls tipped me off, I had no idea that the place was a local legend. Even now, two years later, it remains legendarily good. And surprisingly local. If a bit on the expensive (and, at night, crammed-together-tables) side.
The small, so-intimate-you're-bound-to-knock-knees trattoria serves up Roman dishes, but with such fresh ingredients, they hardly compare. Don't miss the carbonara (top of post), with one of the most delicious, smoky-crispy-perfect pieces of guanciale I've ever encountered. Not to mention this carpaccio, dressed with puntarelle or truffle shavings.
Da Danilo is located at Via Petrarca 3, a stone's throw from Piazza Vittorio Emanuele and its metro stop. Call +39 06 77200111 for reservations.
Here's where to go when the idea of more cucina romana, or of checkered tablecloths, makes you want to get on the next plane to anywhere. Yes, the food is Italian—but it's Umbrian. With a twist. No amatriciana on the menu here; instead, look for deliciousness like stewed wild boar in a sweet wine sauce.The atmosphere is sleek and modern, the staff professional, and the prices good. If you're pinching your pennies, you also can't beat the 3-course €12 tasting menu at lunch.
L'Asino d'Oro is located at Via del Boschetto 73 in the heart of Monti, a short walk from the Forum or Colosseum. Call +39 06 48913832 for reservations.
If you want to eat at the best restaurants in Rome, you need to get out of the touristy center. And that's when most travelers to Rome balk.
But they don't have to. As overwhelming and confusing as Rome's public transport system can seem, there's only one bus you really need to know in order to hit nearly all of Rome's best food neighborhoods. Ladies and gentlemen… let me present:
The number 3.
Now, there are many things I don't like about the #3 bus. It makes lots of stops. It gets super-crowded around rush hour (avoid it from about 7am-9am and 5pm-7pm). And like any bus in Rome, it can be erratic, sometimes coming every 5 minutes, sometimes every 20.
But I find myself hopping on it again and again, just because, for the price of one euro, it takes me to nearly all of my favorite restaurants.
Update, 9/2012: The #3 bus is now a… #3 tram! (It actually started out that way, so I guess it's going back to its roots). The good news: There is now much more room, making the ride much more comfortable. And trams are fun. The bad news: The tram now stops in Testaccio, at Piazza Ostiense. From there, you have to switch to the bus to carry on to Trastevere. But if any neighborhood is worth stopping in, food-wise, it's Testaccio!
The #3 starts (or ends, depending on your point of view) at Thorvaldsen, a stop in the Villa Borghese right near the Galleria Arte Moderna. It then hits:
Parioli, a well-heeled neighborhood that's starting to come alive with equally-upmarket restaurants
San Lorenzo, a student quarter that has excellent, cheap trattorie and hip, grungy bars alike
the Porta San Giovanni down to the Colosseum
the Celian and Aventine hills
Testaccio, one of Rome's best food neighborhoods for cheap, traditional cucina romana
Trastevere, another great food neighborhood with both higher- and lower-end dining
But it's not just food that you can explore by hopping on and off the #3. There are sites, too—and (bonus) a lot of them are the slightly more off-the-beaten-path and, in my opinion, rewarding kind.
So… let's get on the #3 and see where, exactly, it takes us. (The neighborhood names are rough generalizations; I've just used them to make everything easier to visualize).
Parioli: Thorvaldsen to Viale Regina Margherita
Eat: End with dinner in this 'hood if you're looking for something a little more upscale and creative. The top restaurant is probably All'Oro, a pricey but excellent Michelin-starred restaurant serving up creative dishes like risotto with artichokes, vanilla and roasted calamari (they offer a tasting menu for 55 or 70 euros); it's a 10-minute walk from the Rossini stop. For something more moderately-priced, check outAnatra Grassa, which serves up Venetian-influenced food (get off at the first stop on V.le Regina Margherita after Buenos Aires). And if you just want a break from Italian, Duke's California Bar & Restaurant offers Angus steaks, sushi, foie gras, and other not-so-easy-to-find foods in Rome.
Do: From the first three stops on the line (Thorvaldsen, Galleria Arte Moderna and Aldrovandi), it's easy to stroll around the beautiful Villa Borghese, taking in museums like the Galleria Arte Moderna, Villa Giulia, and, of course, theGalleria Borghese. From Liegi, the 5th stop, you can explore the Villa Ada, one of Rome's largest parks, and walk to the Catacombs of Santa Priscilla, one of Rome's least-visited but most-rewarding catacombs.
San Lorenzo: Policlinico to Piazza di Porta Maggiore
Eat:Gritty and graffiti-filled, San Lorenzo couldn't be more different than Parioli. And since the diners around here tend to be a little on the more money-saving side (read: lots of students), the restaurants are much cheaper, too. One of my favorite traditional Roman spots is Trattoria Pommidoro, which has particularly good game meats, along with pastas (I love their pasta alla gricia); I've also heard good things about Tram Tram, a traditional and well-priced favorite decorated with pieces of, you've got it, a vintage tram. On the trendier and much more expensive side, there's Pastificio San Lorenzo, a restaurant located in an old factory that's an art gallery by day, serving up gourmet Italian dishes. Top it off with some chocolate at Said, a chocolate factory that's been around since 1923. And all of these eateries are a stone's throw from the Reti stop.
Do: Get off at the Verano stop to visit the Basilica of San Lorenzo fuori le Mura (below), a gem of an ancient church, and its atmospheric cemetery. At the Piazza di Porta Maggiore stop, check out Porta Maggiore, a monumental 1st-century Roman gate, and the huge 3rd-century Aurelian Walls. Don't miss the Baker's Tomb, an extremely unusual—and unusual-looking—tomb of an ancient Roman baker, honeycombed with holes that it's thought symbolize units of grain.
Esquiline: Santa Croce in Gerusalemme to Colosseo
Eat: On the higher end, Agata e Romeo is a Michelin-starred (and very expensive) Roman restaurant just a 10-minute walk from the Manzoni stop. For something more moderate, check out Tempio di Iside, one of the best seafood restaurants in Rome (get off at the first Labicana stop). But my favorite pick has to be Da Danilo, a fantastic, moderately-priced Roman trattoria just a 5-minute walk from the Manzoni stop. Whatever you do, don't miss their carbonara (above). Finally, after visiting the Basilica of San Clemente (see below), make a stop at Ciuri Ciurifor some of Rome's best cannoli and other Sicilian goodies (right at the 2nd stop on Labicana).
Do: Aside from, obviously, seeing the Colosseum, visit the Basilica of Santa Croce in Gerusalemme, a church dating back to the 4th century that has a number of bizarre relics, including thorns from Christ's crown of thorns, wooden pieces of the cross, and (they say) the bone of the finger of St. Thomas that he put in Christ's wounds after he rose from the dead. Get off at Porta San Giovanni to stop at the Basilica of San Giovanni and the Holy Stairs. Or (my favorites) get off at the 2nd stop on Labicana to pay a visit to the Basilica of San Clemente, a 12th-century church built on top of the 4th-century basilica built on top of ancient Roman ruins (incredibly, you can descend down to see all of the layers), and to the nearby Church of Santi Quattro Coronati.
From the Celian hill to the Aventine
Eat: If it's the weekend, get off at the 1st Aventino stop and walk along the Circus Maximus to the Campagna Amica food market, a great place to sample local foods and even enjoy a cheap, delicious lunch. Just around the corner, pop into Cristalli di Zucchero, home to some of Rome's best gourmet (and not just Italian) sweets, pastries and macaroons.
Do: Get off at the Parco Celio site to (you guessed it) stroll through the lovely Celian park (in summer, you can catch jazz concerts here), as well as to check out the Case Romane; if you cross the street, you can access the Palatine and its ruins of the Roman emperors' palaces. At the 1st Aventino stop, take in the Circus Maximus or stroll around the Aventine hill, one of Rome's oldest and prettiest residential neighborhoods. Don't miss the incredible ancient basilica of Santa Sabina, the lovely Garden of Oranges with its view over the city, or everyone's favorite keyhole: the one at the Piazza of the Knights of Malta, where you can see the Knights' property, Rome, and St. Peter's—three countries in one glance.
Testaccio: Porta S. Paolo to Emporio
Eat: Testaccio is one of Rome's best, most authentic neighborhoods for food. Make the most of it. Check out the market at Piazza Testaccio, where locals go to buy their produce (along with shoes and sundry items). Right on Via Marmorata, where the #3 stops (twice), grab a Sicilian pastry or cannolo at Sicilia e Duci (above) or some (pricey, but delicious) cured meats or specialty cheeses at foodie favorite Volpetti. If you're in the mood for a full meal, beeline to Da Bucatino (one block from Via Marmorata) for classic Roman fare,Nuovo Mondo orDa Remo for pizza, or my latest favorite, Flavio al Velavevodetto, which serves up excellent food for moderate prices.
Do: Get off at Porta San Paolo to check out the pyramid of Caius Cestius, a tomb built to a magistrate in the 1st century B.C. that looks like a bizarre little piece of Egypt among Roman traffic. From here, you also can explore the Protestant Cemetery, resting place of expats like John Keats. Take one of the stops on Marmorata to head to the MACRO, a contemporary art museum in a reconstituted slaughterhouse.
Trastevere: Porta Portese to Staz.ne Trastevere
Eat: Like San Lorenzo and Testaccio, Trastevere is full of well-priced, good-quality Roman restaurants—but it's also got its share of tourist joints, so go prepared. Get off at the Porta Portese stop and walk north to enjoy delicious pasta, served fresh in the pan, at Taverna Trilussa, or grab cheap, traditional pizza at Ai Marmi(above). Le Mani in Pasta, a surprisingly elegant hole-in-the-wall, is another local favorite, while L'Asino Cotto serves up creative Mediterranean fare. On the highest end, Glass Hostaria is a super-modern (and expensive) Michelin-starred restaurant in the heart of Trastevere.
Do: If it's a Sunday morning, check out the goods (and junk) at Porta Portese, Rome's biggest flea market. Otherwise, get off at the same stop and walk over to the Basilica of Santa Cecilia, which boasts 13th-century frescoes by Pietro Cavallini, a sculpture by Maderno of Cecilia's incorrupt body as it was found in 1599, and excavations of two ancient Roman houses below that you can visit. Further in the heart of Trastevere, check out the Basilica of Santa Maria in Trastevere along with the Villa Farnesina, home to some of Raphael's loveliest frescoes.
With Sicilian bakery Ciuri Ciuri, I thought I'd found the best stop for cannoli in Rome. And then I discovered Sicilia e Duci.
The pasticceria opened less than two weeks ago in Testaccio, making the foodie-friendly neighborhood that much more of a must on any committed eater's itinerary. It's run by a Sicilian owner who, if his discussion with me about the finer points of cannoli shows anything, definitely knows his stuff.
But even if you're not in the mood for pastries (something I and my sweet tooth couldn't possibly understand, but I hear that it happens), pop your head in just to gawk. Because these pastries, from marzipan in stunningly-realistic fruit shapes to elegant cakes and pastel cassate siciliane, are simply beautiful.
Luckily, though, the taste lived up to the looks.
Sicilia e Duci is located on Via Marmorata 87/89, a stone's throw from that other (if overpriced) foodie haven, Volpetti.
I had lunch today at a Rome restaurant I'd never eaten at before: Divinare, a chic (and cleverly-named) wine bar in Testaccio. The food was delicious, from a pasta with fiori di zucca and guanciale (above) to a super-fresh and gourmet salad.
But I can't recommend Divinare to hungry travelers. And boy, is that frustrating.
It's not that they did anything that I haven't seen a hundred times before. But I'm just too sick of it by now to put up with it any more, even the smallest instances of it.
Familiar with Rome's food scene? Then you know where I'm going with this.
Like one of my favorite restaurants in Rome, L'Asino d'Oro, Divinare has a lunch special: 13 euros for a primo, glass of wine, water, and coffee. Not a bad deal. And there's no mistake that that was supposed to be the total; the menu clearly says "servizio e coperto incluso" (service and cover included). My companion and I even commented to each other how much we liked the rare sight of a restaurant that didn't charge coperto.
He ordered the special; I had a 10 euro salad. We also ordered the (included) water for him, plus one for me, asking for due acque piccole. Our very polite and friendly server, who also may have been the owner, brought one large water instead. That made sense. He also brought bread. This made sense, too.
What didn't make sense? Our bill. Thirteen euros for the menu (correct). Ten euros for the salad (yep). A charge for my coffee (fine). Plus… a charge for the whole bottle of water, plus a 2 euro "pane" charge (wait, what?).
It was a difference of three or four euros. Still, I didn't understand where it came from. We should have been charged for half of the one large bottle of water, and for no "bread and cover" at all. When we said something, the server/(owner?) tried to "explain" to us how Rome restaurants charge for bread separately. Yes, we said, but if you bring the bread without us ordering it, which you did, it seems that would be part of the "coperto" charge. Which should be included.
And what about the water? Oh, he said, it's always tough to figure out these things when one person gets the full menu and one person doesn't. (Really? It seems pretty simple: Just charge for half the two-person bottle).
To be fair, he was nice about it. He knocked the charges off for us. And, for all I know, he always charges for "bread," the lack of clarity on the menu is an honest mistake, and nobody else has ever said anything. It's definitely possible.
But, needless to say, we still left a delicious meal with a bad taste in our mouths. And what a shame that is.
I don't mean to lay all the blame on Divinare. Because here's the thing. This "tacking on" of extra, not-quite-corretto charges happens all the time. Food blogger Katie Parla has written about the selective service charge at Grano that's applied to tourists only, and she just wrote about how Roma Sparita has started sneaking a 15% servizio onto tourists' bills, although their menu clearly says service is included. Similarly, Roma Sparita didn't charge me for service or coperto in June, proving their sometimes-charge is an unfair sleight-of-hand for unsuspecting tourists that's led me to update my own blog post about Roma Sparita accordingly. At other restaurants, waiters lean over when tourists are paying to "remind" them that service wasn't already included on their bill (hint hint hint!).
As for most others I've spoken with, it's not the automatic inclusion of a charge, whether servizio or pane e coperto, that bothers me. It's the shady way that it's never clear if it's going to be added or not—even when the menu seems to make it so clear. And it's the way that it seems to be targeted primarily at English speakers, although Italians can feel free to correct me on this point.
So look, Rome restaurants: I have a request. For the love of your own business, cut the bullshit. Please. You know what's fair and what's not. Charging for bread, when it was brought to a table without being ordered and the menu says coperto incluso, is shady. Charging for a large bottle of water for two people, when one person was supposed to get their water included, is not right. Charging some people service, when the menu says servizio incluso, is not okay. But what's crazy is that you already know that. And guess what? So do many of your clients!
Sure, all of this is small-change stuff. Three or four extra euros is hardly the end of the world. But, when it comes to restaurants with great reputations like Roma Sparita and Divinare, that's part of what blows my mind the most. You'd really rather go to the trouble of making a client an amazing meal and still risk them leaving less than 100% thrilled with their experience… just for the sake of some pocket change?
And, dear restaurants, here's something else you need to keep in mind. You might think that, if your client is a tourist who's in Rome for a day, it doesn't really matter if they love your food or think the bill is fair. But guess what? Tourists, too, have brains, friends… and access to TripAdvisor and Chowhound. Plus, with smartphones and iPads becoming more and more prevalent, future would-be clients now can access lousy reviews online more and more easily while they travel.
Not to mention that, every once in a while, that "tourist" happens to be a Rome-based blogger, travel journalist, or guidebook writer. Or even all three.
So please. You're smart people. You've figured out how to start a business in one of the world's most challenging countries for entrepreunership, not to mention a food establishment in one of the most restaurant-saturated cities on earth. So you tell me. Is it really worth the small change?
The best restaurants right at Rome’s tourist sites, including near the Pantheon, Spanish Steps, and Colosseum.
I’ve said it before: When you’re looking for good restaurants in Rome, get thee away from the city’s tourist centers. The farther from the Colosseum, Pantheon, or Spanish Steps you are, the better and cheaper — in general — the food is going to be.
That said? Sometimes, after a day of sightseeing, your feet are just too tired, or your stomach too darn loud, to walk the extra 20 minutes, or wait for the bus, that’s required to wind up in a less hit-or-miss food zone like Testaccio. But that doesn’t mean all is lost.
Here, suggestions for where to eat in Rome’s most touristy locales. Even if they won’t all blow your mind (although some will), they’re reliably good food, good value, and within a 5-minute walk from the given site. (Just to make sure, I used the ever-objective Google maps to see how long “walking directions” took).
To help you visualize how close these really are to Rome’s major sites, here’s a helpful map of them all. Print it all out to save your feet, and your stomach, when you’re in Rome.
This post covers where to eat when you’re at the Spanish Steps, Colosseum, or the Pantheon. (Above: An awesome mozzarella-di-bufala-egg-combination thing from Palatium, a top spot near the Spanish Steps).
Look for an upcoming post on where to eat when at the Vatican, Trevi Fountain, or Piazza Navona!
Where to eat at… the Colosseum
Taverna dei Quaranta. Via Claudia 24, a 3-minute walk from the Colosseum. I didn’t quite believe it when a friend of mine said that this place was any good. But then I went. And it is. Despite being located just 2 minutes’ further down the road than all of the terrible, touristy places that directly overlook the Colosseum, Taverna dei Quaranta is a different story. The cacio e pepe here is fantastic, the spaghetti alle vongole tasted super-fresh, and a pasta alla norma (with eggplants, tomato and salted ricotta) decided my next return for me. The restaurant also offers traditional Roman secondi (oxtail, fried baccalà), a pizza menu, and, my friend says, a kick-ass tiramisu. At about €8 for a pasta, the prices are also good for the area. +3906 7000550, www.tavernadeiquaranta.com/en. Open for lunch and dinner daily.
Trattoria Luzzi. Via di San Giovanni in Laterano 88, a 5-minute walk from the Colosseum (and a 1-minute walk from the Basilica of San Clemente). As I’ve written before, Luzzi isn’t the best food you’ll eat in Rome — but it is some of the cheapest and, thanks to its nutty waiters, the most fun. Its amatriciana or fettucine alla bolognese are reliably okay… and both set you back just €5.50. The pizza (above) is also very good, although don’t order it at lunch: The official pizza chef isn’t on then, so what comes out instead is a sad excuse for a Roman pie. Another bonus? Unlike many of the places in this quarter, the guys at Luzzi don’t try to screw you. That said, I’ve noticed more complaints about rudae service at Trattoria Luzzi, and had one bad experience so far myself — but it seems always to be from people sitting indoors, and at dinner only. For the best experience, grab an outside seat. +39 06 7096332. Open for lunch and dinner every day except for Wednesday.
Li Rioni. Via dei SS. Quattro Coronati 24, a 5-minute walk from the Colosseum (and a 2-minute walk from the Basilica of San Clemente). One of Rome’s better pizzerias, this is also a local favorite, a place that’s filled (and loud) with Italian families and babies by 9pm. (Come at 7pm, of course, and you’ll see mostly tourists). The pizzas are how Romans do them — crispy, thin and piled with fresh ingredients — and cheap, to boot.The service can be a little spotty, especially on busy Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights, but it’s all part of the fun. The name “Li Rioni,” by the way, comes from the fact that the pizzeria is right on the border of two of Rome’s famed rioni, or quarters — Monti and Celio. +39 06 70450605. Open for dinner only every day but Tuesday.
Where to eat at… the Spanish Steps
The Via della Croce pastificio (lunch only). Via della Croce 8, a 1-minute walk from the Spanish Steps. Time your sightseeing to land you in the Spanish Steps area between 1pm and 2pm, and lunch is all set. That’s because that’s when a pasta shop, located a stone’s throw from the famous staircase, starts offering “samples” — i.e., big trays — of hot, handmade pasta. The price, with water and wine included? Just 4 euros. Check out my previous blog post on the Spanish Steps pasta shop for more info. Open for lunch every weekday.
Palatium. Via Frattina 94, a 5-minute walk from the Spanish Steps. I’ve sung the praises of Palatium elsewhere before, and with good reason. A foodie favorite, Palatium is run by the Lazio Regional Food Authority—which, while it might not sound sexy, means that all of the ingredients are home-grown in Rome’s Lazio region. The menu, which changes frequently, features Rome favorites with a twist, like ricotta-and-mint ravioli. The prices are great for the quality, with pastas around €10 and mains €15. Just keep in mind that this isn’t your traditional, checkered-tablecloth trattoria (photo above). +39 06 69202132, reservations recommended. Open for lunch and dinner every day but Sunday.
Enoteca Antica. Via della Croce 76, a 3-minute walk from the Spanish Steps. This isn’t the best value you’ll find in Rome, but it is one of your best bets if you don’t want to stray from the Spanish Steps (if you can’t get in at Palatium, that is). A wine bar and restaurant, the atmosphere is lovely, there’s outdoor seating, the food ranges from fine to good, and the prices aren’t terrible. Just make sure you double-check your bill: Several recent clients have noted that staff has been sneaking in higher prices than the menu calls for. Never hesitate to point out any mistakes you see, and to be firm. +39 6 6790896. Open for lunch and dinner every day.
Where to eat at… the Pantheon
Armando al Pantheon.Salita de’ Crescenzi 31, less than a minute’s walk from the Pantheon. Since 1961, Armando’s has been serving up traditional, Roman dishes right next to the Pantheon — and he’s been making it in the guidebooks, too. The constant mentions of Armando’s make it all the more surprising that both the food, and prices, remain good. Look for pasta e ceci (pasta with chickpeas) on Fridays, and don’t miss the damn-good torta antica Roma (above) to finish everything off. +39 06 68803034. Open for lunch and dinner all week except for Saturday night and Sunday.
Trattoria da Gino. Vicolo Rosini 4, a 5-minutes’ walk from the Pantheon. Hidden on a side street north of the Pantheon, near the Parliament building, da Gino is authentic Roman cuisine at its best. The handmade pastas are excellent, as is the antipasto spread. Since it’s a tiny place and a favorite of locals, make reservations if you can. +39 06 687 3434. Open for lunch and dinner every day but Sunday.
Trattoria da Ugo e Maria. Via dei Prefetti 19, a 5-minute walk from the Pantheon. Don’t expect a big sign welcoming you to this no-frills, family-run restaurant: The only sign says “Trattoria,” and the curtains and door are often closed. Enter, though, and you’re walking into an authentic Roman experience. The hand-written menu changes daily, pastas are handmade and prices are moderate (about €8 for a pasta). +39 06
6873752. Open for lunch and dinner every day, except Saturdays and Sundays. If you liked this post, you’ll love The Revealed Rome Handbook: Tips and Tricks for Exploring the Eternal City, available for purchase on Amazon or through my site here! I’m also free for one-on-one consulting sessions to help plan your Italy trip.
It's hard to find a good fiaschetteria, or steakhouse, near Rome's center; it's even harder to find an artisanal birreria.
The little-known restaurant Al Grottino is both a fiaschetteria, birreria… and pizzeria. (No, I couldn't believe I hadn't discovered this place until a couple of months ago, either).
Located a 10-minute walk from the San Giovanni metro, Al Grottino looks, at first glance, like any average Roman pizzeria. It's got the red-and-white checkered tablecloths, the bustle of locals, the anything-but-impeccable service. (Don't come right when the pizzeria opens, or you might have to wait nearly an hour for the oven to heat up and your pizza to be made, like I did on my first visit).
And yet… Al Grottino isn't quite the same. For one, they're trying—maybe a little too hard—to seem techno-savvy. Instead of a normal beer menu, for example, you get an iPad to flick through. And, yes, it's a little gimmicky. And, no, there aren't enough iPads for every table, making it a bit less convenient than, I don't know, a real menu. Still, in a town where most menus are still handwritten, it's an interesting (albeit expensive) way to try to set a place apart.
The real reason to go to Al Grottino, though, is for the (cheap!) food. The pizza has fresh ingredients and a thin, charred-just-right crust. The fritti are done like Japanese tempura, a nice alternative to the heavier fry-ups you usually see at Rome's pizzerias. The steak was thick, juicy, and cooked rare, just as we'd asked. Plus, it came with Argentinian-style chimichurri sauce, rarely seen with steak in Rome. Heck, even the salmon-and-pesto bruschetta (a special of the day) was better than we expected.
And when I say the food was cheap, I mean cheap. A pizza margherita is €5; bruschetta, €2.
The real draw, though, is the beer. Al Grottino has more than 40 kinds, including lots of Belgians, and bottles come with a snazzy ice pouch to keep them cold in the Rome heat.
Al Grottino: the trendiness of artisanal beers and iPads, combined with old-school Roman prices, pizza, and (hmm) service. It might not make sense, or feel cohesive. But when you don't want the gruff traditionalism of, say, La Montecarlo, or the trendiness of Open Baladin, Al Grottino strikes a nice middle ground.
After more than a year of silence, I’m going to let you in on Rome’s best-kept gelato secret: Rome’s best gelato isn’t at Grom, at San Crispino, or even at Ciampini (although that’s still my favorite on-the-beaten-track gelateria, for when you just don’t have time to make a voyage out to, say, Vice).
Instead, Rome’s best gelateria is a little place in the centro storico’s business district, a short walk from Repubblica.
Its name? I Caruso.
(Update, Dec. 2013: Actually, not any more. I Caruso is still excellent. But just around the corner is what I think is the new best spot for gelato in Rome…).
If you haven’t heard of I Caruso, you’re not the only one. So far, it’s escaped notice even by Rome’s myriad foodies and gelato lovers, never mind guidebooks. In fact, it didn’t even make it onto any of the recent lists I’ve seen of Rome’s best gelato shops (including these otherwise-great round-ups by Tavole Romane, Katie Parla, and NileGuide).
That said, if I Caruso is a local secret, it’s one of the most popular local secrets I know. Every time I go, the place is crowded with Italians. Men in suits fresh from their work at one of the nearby banks, families, well-heeled women — they’re all here. And with reason.
About a year and a half old, I Caruso is truly artigianale; not only is everything made on-site with fresh ingredients, but you can watch them make the gelato through the glass. The panna, in either normal or zabaglione flavors, is the best I’ve had in Rome. It’s whipped fresh right there.
And the gelato itself? It’s out of this world. The extra-dark chocolate is the creamiest, richest I’ve ever had. Balanced off with a fragola that tastes like a just-picked strawberry, bursting-with-flavor melon, or with I Caruso’s famous pistacchio, it’s the perfect cup. Other options, which change seasonally, include mandarin orange, almond, and fior di panna.
Meanwhile, the servers are friendly, the place is super-clean, and the prices (€2.50 for a small, €3 medium, €3.50 large) aren’t bad. You can also get gelato by the kilo here… a pricey option, but I can’t imagine a better way to be a hit at a party. (Below, where the magic happens).
Another bonus? The location. A 10-minute walk from the Repubblica metro stop, it’s much more convenient than many of the other artisanal gelaterias in Rome. I Caruso is also right around the corner from Piazza Sallustio, so if you don’t want to take advantage of one of the benches on the street, you can wander over and enjoy your gelato while checking out some great ancient ruins: the remnants of the villa built by the Roman historian Sallust in the first century B.C.
In fact, I’ll be honest: I Caruso is so good that, for a long time, I didn’t want to be the one to “out” this place. After all, as we all know, once an establishment in Rome gets popular, it starts to go downhill. Plus, my original source had begged me to keep the place a secret.
But out of devotion to my readers, and commitment to helping those on their honorable search for Rome’s top-quality gelato, I decided it was time.
So there you are. Rome’s best gelato. Just in time for summer.
Want more local secrets on Rome’s best food, sights, and more? Check out The Revealed Rome Handbook: Tips and Tricks for Exploring the Eternal City, now available for purchase on Amazon, below, or through my site here!
I once had a Cambridge professor call wisteria "garish." He'd be appalled at the sight of Rome these days. Wisteria, wisteria everywhere… even here, in the Roman forum.
A cupcake from Made Lab, a new-ish American-style-ish bakery on Via dei Coronari. I'm obviously a sucker for cupcakes, so discovering these guys this week was a thrill. Also, the cupcakes were damn good.
I've been lusting after this handcrafted bracelet ever since seeing it at Galleria Ashanti in Monti. Oh, which reminds me: the artisans on Via del Boschetto are amazing.
Gelato season has arrived. And there's perhaps no prettier place to enjoy super-fresh scoops than at Gelateria del Teatro, tucked just off Via dei Coronari (yes, I indulged in both gelato and cupcakes on my stroll there this week). 
