the herb vendor |
We needed this cheese purchase
because Judy is something of a human steamroller who does not care to
interrupt her investigation of a foreign city by wasting precious time
at cafes. The best apples I ever ate in my life were crisp and candy-sweet
Golden Delicious, big as two fists, purchased at the Campo dei Fiori
and munched with Provolone while resting my poor, dying feet at lunchtime—for
a few
minutes, anyway.
There was also a young guy
who sold herbs and spices in bulk, explaining in sparse English how to
use them. We bought a blend he recommended as a topping for salads and
pasta dishes. I still don't know exactly what's in it, but it's full
of hot pepper seeds and makes everything I put it on taste more interesting.
I'll be sorry when it's gone. Maybe it will necessitate a return trip
to Rome, to get more?
An elderly couple presided
over a stall filled with clothing items and table linens. They, too,
spoke no English, but were courteous and seemed proud of their unusual
wares. Judy bought some luscious cream silk pajamas for her sister-in-law
and I bought a shimmering, translucent silk shawl, iridescent midnight
blue with a slinky fringe.
In the center of the Campo
dei Fiori stands the brooding figure of the philosopher Giordano Bruno,
who was burned in the piazza by order of the Pope in 1600, for the heresy
of suggesting the earth moved around the sun. He was later exonerated
and honored with this statue which glowers in the direction of the Vatican.
Judy got a nifty picture of him with a bird on his head.
In late afternoon the market
vendors clear out of the piazza, and by evening it is transformed into
a lively eating place as the cafes surrounding the piazza set out tables
and chairs for al fresco dining. My feet were always shot by evening,
so we didn't venture out of our neighborhood in search of dining experiences.
We just went to the Campo.
One place we tried was a new
business, with the unlikely Inglese name "Heartbreak Café" , owned
by a friendly multilingual Swede who welcomed us heartily. Service there
on opening night was a little disorganized. As we were looking over the
menu and debating the merits of red wine versus white, our waiter appeared
with a bottle of white, which he silently opened and poured, waited for
us to sample, then left. Since he seemed to speak no English whatsoever,
and we had not said a word to him yet, we could not figure out how he
knew we'd decided on the white. However, it was delicious, so we drank.
A while later we learned that we had been served someone else's expensive
bottle in error. The Swede was chagrined but apologetic and charged us
only the price of the house wine we'd been planning to order.
After ordering, huge salads
on 12-inch plates were brought—absolutely delicious,
full of peppery greens and fresh vegetables from the farmers market,
artistically arranged and accompanied by vinegar and olive oil, and fresh
bread. I had foolishly ordered first and second courses as well, but
I devoured my entire salad anyway. That's how good it was. The place
became a favorite because of those salads, and we dined there repeatedly.
By the end of the week the service was much improved and they knew us
as regulars.
Another restaurant we enjoyed,
on the Ides of March, was Pancrazio's, which is located in an alley at
one corner of Campo dei Fiori. Pancrazio's claim to fame is its building
site atop the ancient Theater of Pompey, where Julius Caesar was murdered.
The restaurant's owner has spent years carefully excavating below his
building and uncovering some of these ruins, which can be viewed by visitors.
He also has a tasteful display of interesting archaeological objects
and maps. The food is good, too.
On our last night in Rome,
we dined at the Grotte di Teatro di Pompeo, another restaurant capitalizing
on its location and association with the ancient ruins. Our waiter was
charming and gracious, but took an assertive sales approach to his job—a
fact we did not fully comprehend until we got our bill at the end, and
realized how many things he had talked us into. The food, however, was
sublime. Spinach crepes and seafood risotto to die for, among other things.
We will definitely
go back, but will be more careful next time. Our
hotel, the Smeraldo, was just a short stroll from Campo dei Fiori. Old but elegantly
decorated, situated in a cobblestone alley full of little shops, and with a nice
latteria conveniently located just across the way, it was the perfect lodging
for us. On future trips to Rome, there is no place I would rather stay; and most
of the reason is the Smeraldo's central-Rome location and its proximity to the
Campo.
© Verda Ingle
2001 | 
the cheese lady |
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