When in Rome...

(Vittorio Emmanuele monument)

We have arrived in Roma, the Eternal City.  We've been feeling the exhaustion of vacationing (oh, poor us!) and so we didn't want to do much after the 4 1/2 train ride.  We met our host at the hotel (yes, it's called a hotel, even though there's only 7 rooms....on the 4th floor of course....with no elevator of course....I can really pick 'em!).  He is such a jolly fellow, and he wanted to share some tips about his amazing city.  Imagine this conversation with a heavy Italian accent and a beaming smile.  It went something like this:

Would you lika my teep about veesiting my city?  When you wanta to eata, you go
away from the tourista placees.  Go downa little streets.  Eef you finda someone asking
you to coma in, you go away.  Notta good place.  Looka for a place wis da menu
only Italian.  Looka for a mad Italian waiter....he is not mad....he is wanting to be
at hees home, on da coucha, watching da soccer.  Dis is gooda place to eat!

Well, we followed his sage advice.  We walked to the Piazza Navano (ugh!  lots of hawkers and uber-touristy) and then walked away down the side streets.  We came to a place with a grouchy looking Italian grandma.  We thought, "Dis is gooda place to eat!"  And was it ever!

First, we have to gain admission.  I greet the grouchy grandma with a "Buona serra!" and ask for a table for two the best way I know how, "Dui?" She rattles a response in Italian and I look baffled.  She looks me up and down and gestures towards a chair and says, "Fivea minutes!"  I obediently comply...don't wanna upset grandma.  O.K.  five minutes sounds good, but I remember the last trip we took to Rome and how the "5 minutes" phrase means five to fifty-five minutes.  Oh well we'll wait, after all, "Dis is gooda place to eat!"

Next a French couple walks up.  The French woman does not greet the grandma, or attempt any Italian, she just asks if the grandma speaks French.  The grandma gestures rudely down the street and says, "Fivea minutes!".  Obviously, they did not meet the standards of the inspection.

After waiting our five minutes, the grandma turns friendly and remains so for the duration of the evening.  Such a charmer!

(Grandma)

We sit at a table and the waitress rambles in Italian and the only words I pick up are "vino" and "blanco" which is enough for me.  "Si, blanco!" I respond (I'm sooo Italian).

We wait for menus.  None come.  Hmmmm...but then food arrives.  We are served five appetizers...which were delicious ("Dis is gooda place to eat!") and wonder what will happen next.  We watch the table next to ours to get a clue.  Seems pasta is next.

(antipasti)

Again, with no menu or inquiries, our next course is served....pasta with two sauces...yum!  I wonder what our bill we be?

The next table is getting meat, bocconcini (small fresh mozzarella balls), vegetables, and potato chips.  Potato chips??  Yep, that's what's served for the next course.  I am getting very curious about this wonderful place and decide to venture towards the restroom to spy for clues.  I find a handwritten menu on the door....25 euros per person...four courses and drinks.  We've found "da gooda place" for sure!

(hard at work...perhaps Grandpa??)

After the main course, dessert (a lemon torte), limoncello, and coffee are served.  Then our bill is announced...no wasting paper here, you're just told "52!" (at least they speak that much English).  What a fun and appetizing experience.  When you visit Roma, be sure to follow our friend's advice and you will find a "gooda place to eat"!