We have recently returned from Rome where it can only be said that nearly every meal was exceptional. However, For me to allow you to believe that it was just the food that made it so would be an injustice; it was the whole tradition and ritual of each meal that made every mouthful, every moment of it such paradise. Wooden paneled walls, rough marble topped ebony tables, rickety chairs, air heavy with buxom red wine and game sauces laden with perfectly al dente rigatone, loud busy waiters, grappa (oh the grappa!), lashings of tiramisu that seemed to whisper my name from the dessert trolley…the list is endless but not without quality. And this I say hand on heart.
I would love to mention every establishment we frequented but will dedicate this writing to my absolute favourite. Our evening started by pushing through a heavy shaded glass door in to a dimly lit room where it became immediately obvious that we were outsiders stepping in to a land that had absolutely nothing to do with us. Or so we thought. Within seconds we were swept over to a table greeted warmly by not only the waiter, but all the people seated happily around us and sipping on glasses of prosecco before we had time to realise where we were. The start to the meal consisted of a bowl of invitingly juicy Mussels in a Marinara sauce, with the tomato, garlic, chili and wine all in perfect consistency. Beautiful chunks of thick fresh bread were there to help us mop up the glorious sauce when the mussels had been devoured, and a delicious dry white table wine to nip away any sadness that the course was over was a lovely accompaniment.
True Roman dishes were a must (when in Rome…) so I chose rabbit poached in dry white sherry and plenty of garlic. It was a dream, so simple yet so complex. I want to shake the hand of the person who came up with the idea. Don’t get me wrong I adore a red wine and rosemary rabbit stew, but there was something so subtle and soft about the flavours and texture combined that it is truly something worth mentioning. The added beauty was that it was all the rabbit meat, offal included, so the range of texture and flavour varied across the plate. My dining partner ordered the Oxtail, that came in a mouthwatering tomato and basil sauce. Sometimes such heavy sauces can drown their accompaniment, but this was beautifully laid over it, so it did not drown out the oxtail flavour, and yet you could taste its freshness, its pureness exactly, a knowing nod between you and the sauce that it had been made from the best ingredients by loving hands that day for you.
Although it was nearly impossible to imagine allowing another morsel in to my mouth after a much needed grappa, my eyes fixed on the tiramisu at the next table, and I decided I should partake in dessert. My dining companion agreed to share the dessert (I was a little relieved, and a little annoyed), and we had pretty much finished it off before the plate was put down on the table. I have experienced some pretty poor and rather insulting versions of tiramisu in my time but this was certainly not one of them. On the contrary this was so divine I can still taste it if I try hard enough, in fact I am trying right now.
So should you ever be in Rome and wonder where my idea of Utopia is, drop me a line first and I might just tell you…
Here our some other places and links we like to hoot about:
http://www.thecrownonthegreen.com/
http://www.stjohnrestaurant.com/
http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/video/2011/feb/02/heston-blumenthal-dinner-video
http://news.bbc.co.uk/earth/hi/earth_news/newsid_9401000/9401733.stm
The Owling Supper Club 